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There lived a greyed, an old bald man At sixty of age in a squalid barn So rich that he could not feed his home His colleagues outshined to beat their glome He helped his men to mend their mouths But had his own reeking at shouts So rich, he could not treat his pot belly His big nose villagers have turned telly When children saw him roaming the streets They play'd his bald head tapping with beats To them he cautioned shouting "the heck!" They started laughing his needle neck One day, left he, his wooden shed With flies aloft his podgy head To eat overseas he flew away His home behind in care of hay Afterwards, came the baldie to his dome With butt like bowls in Ancient Rome He remembered he was sixty years old Gathered his home, celebration to hold This greyed himself was Everyman Of dreams and deeds in futile plan Some cared to show their loving sense But all they did was all pretence.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

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Date: 10/18/2022 4:35:00 AM
Great satire and irony. "So rich that he could not feed his home", "So rich, he could not treat his pot belly" - Great! The last stanza tells everything. Welcome to Poetry Soup.
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Date: 10/15/2022 5:38:00 AM
Thanks for sharing this. Welcome to Poetry Soup. I welcome you with the love of the Lord, expressed by John 3:16 of the Bible, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." God bless you.
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