Fleece Rave
. for public domain
Socrates died joyfully.
Although Justice did not win,
His voice rang truly in a world,
of so much gibberish and din.
Vengeance is mine, says the Lord,
Yours is all but Vanity,
but hold not that all Life is Nil,
for then you speak profanity.
Live well all that you believe,
prosper in your war and peace,
put to the pit the Golden Calf,
pursue for your own the Golden Fleece.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
