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French Simmonds Poem
In moments like these you remember your faults
you remember your struggles when life gave you halts
In moments like these you cherish your gifts
your achievements, your gains your vibes and your wits
In moment like these time shows you no mercy
no sliver of patience no penance you see
For time is unforgiving and brutally ungiving
But time is a gift for those who've found another
a blessing from God one which only He could deliver
The days as they pass etch memories so sweet
the challenges you face together you will defeat
The weeks they are gold they give fresh perspective
on the life you've nurtured and endeavoured to live
the months they are joyous no heartache can stain
the love you show for each other can only be ordained
the years have been good your journey grows strong
the very things you should cherish Is moments like these
Copyright © French Simmonds | Year Posted 2017
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Details |
French Simmonds Poem
Instances of need I answer the call
Desire to fulfill your every need
Only to feel like fruitless seed
Not that I could not feel
The signs that take forever to heal
When I stare at you your state and your plight
And I feel obligated to win your fight
Needs or wants they coincide
They leave me so empty on the inside
To whom can my feelings scream
On whose ear will their whisper gleam
But yet I temp myself blissfully
Ending in despair so wistfully
Understand my nature
Surety to deliver
Endless favor and compassion
Dealing blows that drive my passion
Copyright © French Simmonds | Year Posted 2017
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Details |
French Simmonds Poem
What am I, what is my role or purpose
does it even exist a connecting between us.
My stampede of memories to your whimsical thought
the many lessons a life of disappointment taught.
A bond made nothing holding the seams
but broken spirits and tormented dreams.
Actions spoken, deceits served full course
I swallow every breath you utter by force.
Devotion used, abused, neglected that's it
the truth's been clear, ignored, I missed that bit.
Hopes that lingered, encouraged were coddled
to be dropped, dismissed and bottled.
Worn out and tired, my soul it cries
grasping at straws my heart it dies.
Miles at a time my mind it races
confused and driven into clustered spaces.
I consider the pain the hurt I endure
so why do I still care even more.
I recognize, I remember the disinterest in me
but it baffles me I still can't see.
What am I, what is my role or purpose
does it even exist a connecting between us.
My stampede of memories to your whimsical thought
the many lessons a life of disappointment taught.
Every time a day a week may pass
the thought of me is a but a glimpse in the past.
Your friendly greetings continue the persisting lie
it leaves me to wonder WHY.
Copyright © French Simmonds | Year Posted 2018
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