The Man He Was Not
We don't know what age the master lived in. Yet when ever there was something that caught his fancy he would be so happy he would forget to eat. His dwelling was in shambles providing no protection against wind and sun.His coarse clothes were full of holes and patches. His plate and pitcher always empty. He is at peace. He forgot all about gain and loss and in this way he lived out his life. When we reflect on his word suspect that he may have been been such a man. Writing poems to satisfy his inclinations.
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.
