Denis Barter Poet Rhyme

A Small Lump of Clay, With a Transient Name

From the dust of clay, we are born,
a naive newcomer to an earthly morn.
From small beginnings in stature we grow,
not knowing to where our life will go.
With probing footsteps, some take it slow
others will step fearlessly and boldly go,
fearing naught of what may lie ahead!
Some blessed by circumstance, lightly tread,
whilst others burdened with a heavy load
will wearily trudge their preordained road,
ever determined to enjoy life to its fullest.
However be we brilliant or a plodding dullest,
all mortals are fashioned from the same clay.
Later when comes that fateful, future day:
then we must return, from whence we came.
A small lump of clay with a transient name!

Rhymer.  March 25th, 2017.

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Doug Vinson March 25, 2017 at 9:10 PM So nicely done, Denis. : ) People are nuts - with this title, everybody at least has to read! When I first moved to Canada, I walked down the road and get really drunk in a bar, then came out and fell into a ditch. Fearlessly, I guess you could say. Went through a half inch of ice or so, into a foot of muddy water. Then had to get home, soaked, like 10 degrees Fahrenheit, over a mile to go; shaking so bad it took minutes to get my key in the lock. Whew... Good times.