The ability of fertility, with agility brings future peace and stability.
The virtuous find torturous very arduous and cernuous.
My mind in time, sublime without reason or rhyme.
Beckons mine with a hymn and a chime stopped dead on a dime.
Stopped dead like a ball on a wall in sight of them all.
And their senses like nonsense laments in the pretense.
As they bow and smile with slight of brow like the grass to the cow.
Or the hey to the horse, neighing its way through a trickery course.
This is the path, different in turn brings everyone man what they live and every one man what they yearn to have learned.
-
Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 18th, 2025 13:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
Offline)
Comments2
Great internal rhyme in this piece that helps in the flow. Very nice.
Nice, an adventure to read out! 🙏🏻🕊
Thank you for the compliment
You are welcome 🙏🏻🕊
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.