When we're young
Full of aspirations
Full of time
Full of ability
But actions delayed
Like most of the politicians
When we're old
Too little aspirations
Too little actions
Because too little time
Too little ability
Like the common people
But aspirations and actions
Are parts of a bond
Or a pair of lovers
That can't be separated
As politicians and people
Are closely related and dependant
Politicians got the power and authority
For actions
People got the votes
For aspirations
And fair and square indeed
The world first created by God
You are my church
I am on my knees for you
Bowing my head
I pray I pray I pray for your peace
I throw coins at your pleas for reconstruction
Your congregation look at me with sympathetic eyes
I make sacrifice after sacrifice
Because I have faith
I am your church
You beg for forgiveness
Knowing my doors are always open
You find comfort and shelter
And repent your sins
The familiar scent of incense and woodwork that has withstood centuries of turmoil make you feel immortal
But one more tear of wax from the candle
May finally set this shrine ablaze
I need your embrace
I need the warmth that you give
Only love I've known
Mr and Mrs private first class stationed
in Augsburg 15th battalion
second Calvary division canteens and sea rashins
were being distributed while we had four more
court martials. lined outside of the jag office
after a deferred payment plan failed again
der banke of Munich we settled in the
chaplains office to speak with der Bishop
to discuss baq. barracks and housing quarters
allowance why living on a no payment status
allowance covered wodka Cognac and three
kartens of cigarettes food and clothing
not allowances while preparing the family
to relocate again to Berlin havoc broke out
chaos arose thee Iraqi embassy under attack
der wand was stille covered in graffitii I retrieved
three stones as my chanook arrived it read
apo. new York Kennedy our convoy flew over
Kremlin and the eastern shores
he'd put his foot in his mouth before he'd swallow his pride,
fed from the silver spoon, though his plate is full, they pour
sympathy from their pockets, till his cup runneth over, he's
bit off more than he can chew, but a taste of reality he has
yet to sample, champagne taste, not even a beer budget,
his pallet developed, by the fruits of their labor, thirst never
quenched, appetite never satisfied, he bites the hand that
feeds him, now a glutton for the toxins, still they help
wash them down with a spoonful of sugar, sweetened just enough
to mach an antidote, his last supper is in the offing,
and together they set the table.....
Waking up in the morning with you near me,
Making your favourite toast and your black tea,
Hugging me I hear your words "Good morning my love",
With a sweet kiss , I say "I want more now".
Holding your hands and helping you walk,
I love to hear, your cute and lovely talks.
Combing you long snowy hair,
Washing your face ,making you more fair.
Feeding you food with my own hands,
Taking you for a walk into dreamland,
I completed you in everyway,
Why then did you leave me and go away?
What should I do alone in the old age?
In front of your photo , stand and gaze?
You felt you freed me of your burden..
No Darling, not you, it was me,on you who was dependant.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.