They rise like poppies in the field
Plucked off as they bloom
Their beauty just an illusion
Still the people swoon
Hell has them in confusion
Rich men weep and howl
Other get the show
Punishing the past
As if they really know
Forefathers rest in their graves
A few generations
We all became slaves
Professing to be wise
Only fools
Leave out the one who counts
Not understanding there are rules
The land is full of idols they worship the work of their hands
Praising one another
They really don't understand
He will have them in derision
And laugh at all their plans
Where is his glory
It's all a sham
A work of fiction
Written by man
Not understanding the sincere milk of the word
In contradictory terms truly absurd.
-
Author:
Valiantstar (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 24th, 2024 03:13
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: LP2187, Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments2
Reminds me of somewhere.......
Nicely done. A fine write.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.