Anil Deo Poet Rhyme

Dying a Little Every Day

Not the matter of morbidity (matter does matter there!)
But of humanity pushing inhumanity on the Other
We die a little; we die more when we loved the "other" before
Avarice, Impatience, Unkindness, Arrogance ... all that ego
Kills word by word, thought by thought; slashes and red gashes echo
(The Potter's love for clay and art; we pretend we do not care)
We die to Spirit every day with unkind bombs ... word daggers we say

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Paula Goldsmith December 19, 2021 at 2:40 PM WOW!!! What a write. Words do hurt and cannot be taken back. One needs to think first then speak. Sometimes that is hard to do. Guess it is all part of life. Saying sorry may help. I just had this done to me and they will not say sorry. Oh well...... Have a Blessed Christmas and 2022.......................

Mystic Rose Rose December 2, 2021 at 2:19 AM Dear Anil, word daggers are the worse, if only people would realize what bombs to the soul they are, they'd think twice, we poets belong to the mush pile, don't we, where we have been softened by poetry and sensitive heart, stay brave and beautiful my brilliant friend of old :) Anil Deo December 2, 2021 at 4:56 AM Blessings for your most welcome visit & encouragement Dear Mystic. shalom, shalom (I pray I can use self-control & not dish out the same menu I am dished).