"fory" poems
I was never told
To behold
The tears
Carrying all my fears
To let them flow
For the glow
To pay the price
For snatching the prize
To let someone die
On the mere roll of the die
I was never told
To behold
The dance of the fairies
Amongst fires in the prairies
Of the sacrifice
For the fool’s paradise
I was never told
To behold
The danseuse death
In her fight with fate
The glory bequeath
With the fory dead
I was never told
To prepare myself
To fight herself
To wrench my prize
From someone her size
I was never told
To behold
People’s fate
In someone’s gait
To let the decision
Be forsaken of vision
I was never told
To behold
The dance of the dead
As if they had never bled
Their waking up again
Out of deign not disdain
I was never told
To behold
The history being rewritten
And the mysteries being smitten..
Jan 14, 2021
Jan 14, 2021 at 12:14 PM UTC
Up pops the blue hat out of his hole
Bop goes the bopper on in the game called
Whack a mole.
Its a teasing game. And a game of chance
If you stand out from
The group and pack.
Chances are you are gonna get whacked.
But that is the price that one must pay
If you plan to succeeed and go on your way.
Standing pat or sitting still can work at times
And keep one safe.
Standing your ground is sound stratigy.
But what works fory ou may not work for me.
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 9:54 PM UTC