Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.147.72.31

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

The deliberate hurt is
a wound never healing,
forgiveness may be granted
to that soul expiring;
and as the trembling lips  
close, serenity descends.
To have loved such a person
would have been wrong, not smart;
nothing honorable and pleasant
came out of that foul mouth.
Some realize the demonic force
that was behind it to cause animosity
towards the kindest of hearts;
then is anger the curse of the unforgiven,
not to fully and sincerely apologize?
It's wiser to bear offense than to offend,
so that the guilt is not concealed inside,
but open to unfair criticism
rather than visual humanism;
and would one cope with implausibility? 
Along our path, we may see roses...
smell their aroma and cherish their loveliness,
but beneath them there are many thorns
ready to poke those who rush judgment;
and they will bleed for not having been cautious,
or at least avoided the useless torment!
I have bled in my utter blindness,
putting everything at risk, sparing no mercy
for a quest to uphold my integrity
by being too complacent, and not showing kindness.  
And ignoring that anger is the curse of the unforgiven,
I beat hard on my chest to feel the acute pain...
remembering the hostile voice putting me down;
embarrassing me of such a vulgar mannerism,
making me despise and hate any exhibited egotism!
The longest time has passed to shorten the brevity of compassion,
to make me aware that to have none is a denial of self!
Weep and mourn for shutting all doors on fairness, cruel soul;
sleep not, for remorse is a plague inflicted upon the unmerciful
who see themselves less useful than those discerning death!     


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required