Email Poem

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Poem

I stand like roses
Wilted in despair,
Lost in the station
Of life giving breath
As tragedy strikes 
And strips my soul bare;
I walk as I talk
My life's living death.

Now God's will, be done,
I hope to endure,
By proffering poems
At all common marts
Or tout to the crowd
My latest sure cure
For illness acquired
From faded old tarts.

Yes I cast false pride
A way to survive,
A belly once starved
Shall sweat for a feast;
Though hard is my heart
Still beating to thrive
I walk with beauty
Not crawl with the beast.

I've carried my cross
Down dusty old roads
Crossed pastures of dung
With sharp bladed fence;
I've carried my share
Of heaviest loads
Guilelessly gifted
My own common sense.

Watched the grand falcons
In clear lofty air,
As silent they glide
Past steep mountain height;
Caught the golden tresses
Of God's braided hair;
Sanctified meadows
As eagles took flight.

Passionate vipers
Still feed me, indeed!
Yet, in my honor,
I've burst through the bars.
Tasted temptation
From sin's fertile seed;
And Loved with a love
That moved Sun and Stars

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