Arise in the morn as the Sun commands
To trudge and toil for human demands
Work the fields with reaper and scyth
All effort and strife met with others blithe
Sell pounds of wheat for ounces of coin
And drink into the night where others join
Callous your heart from lovers quarrels
Biting your tounge to hide lost morals
And as you dream at night to lose all breath
Sleep will be a brief yet guiltless death
-
Author:
MKS (
Offline) - Published: March 20th, 2025 12:50
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
Offline)
Comments2
Intriguing comparisons and thought provoking ideas in this poem. Lovely
I get the sense of someone working thenselves to the bone and dying for nothing, enjoyed the read
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.