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There lived a greyed, an old bald man
At sixty of age in a squalid barn
So rich that he could not feed his home
His colleagues outshined to beat their glome

He helped his men to mend their mouths
But had his own reeking at shouts
So rich, he could not treat his pot belly
His big nose villagers have turned telly

When children saw him roaming the streets
They play'd his bald head tapping with beats
To them he cautioned shouting "the heck!"
They started laughing his needle neck

One day, left he, his wooden shed
With flies aloft his podgy head
To eat overseas he flew away
His home behind in care of hay

Afterwards, came the baldie to his dome
With butt like bowls in Ancient Rome
He remembered he was sixty years old
Gathered his home, celebration to hold

This greyed himself was Everyman
Of dreams and deeds in futile plan
Some cared to show their loving sense
But all they did was all pretence.

Copyright © Clement Abayomi | Year Posted 2022

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Date: 10/18/2022 4:35:00 AM

Great satire and irony. "So rich that he could not feed his home", "So rich, he could not treat his pot belly" - Great! The last stanza tells everything. Welcome to Poetry Soup.
Date: 10/15/2022 5:38:00 AM

Thanks for sharing this. Welcome to Poetry Soup. I welcome you with the love of the Lord, expressed by John 3:16 of the Bible, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." God bless you.