Hunger
We hunger for wonder
When appease is the disease.
Fill to the gill with swill and still
miss the bliss.
Settle for what’s peddled
Yet crave beyond the grave.
Beware of despair
And reverse the curse.
Hold out for the knock out.
Don’t compromise for the downsize.
And look crosswise when you surmise your demise.
The miracle is in the spiritual.
Not the estate we await.
Copyright © John Grindle | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment