"naysayers" poems
The banana is an inside joke
from God
It is His calling card
And you can call home
if you would hold it to your ear
and speak directly to Him
Just kidding
Bananas are for the belly
He would have used perforated edges
but naysayers would be in an uproar
"How could your God think us so stupid!"
For they always imagine
that God reflects their own stupidity
And the atheist too
would have a fit
and a slew
of jokes about how the real evidence of God
has banana split
But just like little children know
mother puts the best food in the lunchbox
Humble believers can tell you
good loving means good grubbing
on the inside of the banana peel
And that's real
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
Hope arrived... limping severely.
The journey had been quite long,
Searching for Something to hold on to.
Hope was weak but would not give up,
There is always hope, no matter how small.
For: ”Hope springs eternal”.
Faith was greatly weakened and vulnerable,
Wounded by the words of discouragement.
Naysayers of the day were chipping away.
Faith needed help to overcome Doubt.
Lurking close by... and closing in....
Keep the Faith Baby!
Love felt lonely and threatened.
In need of some friends to lean on.
The days were long and dreary with
Hate knocking at everyone's door.
Love glimpsed Faith approaching and knew
Hope was not far behind.
Hope, Faith, Love;
Together, they formed a bond and
Began flourishing once again!
Together, they opened the door
of the heart in need of repair.
Together, they rescued a heart,
Filling it to overflowing.
Love began to grow and blossom,
Bringing Light to the darkened heart.
Hope, walking tall and standing straight,
Began to breath deep again.
Faith leaped forward with renewed vigor
to guard the Heart's door
The Three Musketeers... together...
Unstoppable... Conquer the world.
Aug 16, 2010
Aug 16, 2010 at 3:12 PM UTC
Master the art of
Flipping your L's (losses) into lessons
Because more often than not,
They are disguised blessings
If they sort of set you back
It's for you to bounce back
Like a catapult or slingshot (or Big Sean)
But never lose sight of your mission
The flying beautiful butterfly
Once crawled as a caterpillar
Think about the trees,
They never give up during the wintry days
They only shed their leaves
(For humans, drop the extra baggages)
But trees bounce back during spring
Sometimes, you just gotta
Take a deep breadth
And exhale peace
Ensure to keep breathing
And you'll sure get back on your feet
Calm the nerves,
Take a deep sleep
But don't sleep in the deep
You didn't fail
You only found ways that would not work
Credit to the man that invented the lightbulb
Take the blows but get back up
Very soon, the hardwork will pay off
Put in more work
And relent not
Naysayers will always talk
Don't be discouraged to put in work
Your success will soon prove them wrong
There is light at the end of the tunnel
As there is light within your spirit
Flick it on
And you'll be on a winning spree
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 10:49 PM UTC
Compromise and decay are difficult things to digest. Striking like gravity on the spine, slow and sure. They are as inevitable as my need to avoid them. All the lust, passion, and greed I wish to swim in for an eternity dies with the same cancer that eats my body away. The maggots, flies, desperation, and despair, all attack me simultaneously and with an unstoppable desire to thrive on my remains.
They are relentless and I am not.
Make like a good boy and lie down, ready to decompose with acceptance and grace. I'll place a bag on my head for decency and my wallet on my chest for convenient identification. Perhaps some intelligent future civilization of the cockroach's descendants would like to know about my sad demise. I know the humans won't.
"Misguided", they will say. "Not enough Jesus in his soul to beat back the demons", will say the child ******* priests. Spit on by a hundred million naysayers, in between their ************ and repenting. Given billions of one star reviews because zero stars isn't an option. Oh , I miss the the maggots, the flies, the devastation, and the despair. They were my enemies, and now my only friends.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 1:49 PM UTC
The naysayers
The doubters
Sea to shining sea
Change is coming
The voice
One America
History's defining moment
Change is here
Oct 27, 2009
Oct 27, 2009 at 12:45 PM UTC
There are bloggers and selfie-takers,
Know the difference.
There are noisemakers and peacemakers,
I can show you the evidence.
There are admirers and haters.
Be especially mindful.
There are well-wishers and supporters.
Be very careful
The are naysayers and yeasayers
Always be aware.
There are brothers and brother's keeper,
Always ready to take care.
There are destroyers and fixers,
Separate them.
There are mixers and blenders,
We need them.
There are writers and publishers,
They need each other.
There are readers and proofreader.
Both read for different reasons.
There are bystanders and onlookers.
Both will be watching.
There are movers and shakers,
One of them has the edge.
There are dreams snatches and vision busters,
Be on the lookout.
There are ghost whisperers and Ghostbusters,
Both have connection to a ghost.
There are buyers and sellers,
Each one benefits.
There are singers and there are dancers.
Everyone provides some entertainment.
©IvanBrooksPoetry
21/8/2018
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 1:59 PM UTC
my throat aches for food
my stomach and mind shout
naysayers
heavy with
the clock, she won't stop chattering
nervous tic
aching shoulder, from laying on my side
staring
waiting for
one new message
crooning songs echo
in my shallow veins
beard of dunedin
oh to stand in manufactured rain
cleanse together
hot steam breath collide with
(well)
****** scenes dance heavily
salty
sweet soapy soft silky
soaked..
i feel so alone.
what life would crawl over my skin?
what lips caress these dead eyelids?
what fingers traces these cold curves
like tree limbs next to the curb
i am living trash
but I still want to make you
wet
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 5:37 AM UTC
In an unforgiving world
of naysayers
and backstabbers
and depraved liars
and false prayers
where
you have to look around you
before
you can dare to look ahead
in an unforgiving world
where the pitchforks are raised
at the slightest of mistakes
in this unforgiving world
I possess
a poison
far more potent
it's called love.
and darling,
you're not getting any.
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
I AM
just a poet.
young
naive
anxious
sensitive
fearful
and beautifully
uneducated.
Yet, eloquent
with words
as art.
Writing is the
red blood
which pumps through
my black heart.
So presumptuous *******
before you judge me
have mercy
and remember
**"she is only but a ******* poet"**
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC
Tingly under the daisies;
Glassy-eyed, glazed, greasy;
Shaking, shivering, shuddering,
Wishing, wandering, whimpering,
Westernizing—
Romanizing—
Constitutionalizing—
Institutionalizing—
Perpetually searching
And dying
And living,
Watching Death survive
And scythe the frolickers,
The prancers,
The rompers,
The merrymakers.
A rose clamped between his
Grinning teeth glistens brightly,
And he dances so joyously.
“Yes!” say the naysayers,
Confused are the soothsayers,
Lost are the cartographers.
Oh, Utopia!
The monks are extravagant;
The meditations are a farce!
The preachers are beggars
And swindlers and chargers,
And Machiavelli fulfills his wishes!
Babies are stillborn, stabbed, and
Ritualistically sacrificed,
And their blood is spilled, drunk,
Slathered over the ***** man.
The evangelists scream and lie:
“You are all predestined to die!”
Oh, hail Utopia!
Wedded are the girls to the girls;
Wedded are the boys to the boys;
Wedded is Death to Death,
Life to Life,
And Life to Death.
Wedded are the living to the existent.
And the milking babes are slaughtered
Ceremoniously,
Surreptitiously,
Ostentatiously.
Oh, hail great Utopia!
We are all dead and unintelligent:
Laugh, laugh, Einstein, at your
Stupidity.
Laugh, laugh, Temple Grandin at
Your retardation.
Laugh, laugh, laugh!
Look at the sluggard, thou ant;
Look at the boy, sobbing wolf;
Aesop was drunk,
Aristotle was delusional,
Michelangelo was blind,
Beethoven could hear,
Poe was sane.
And I can't read.
They ramble,
I watch.
They sleep,
I watch.
They dream,
I watch.
They sleep-talk,
I watch.
They scream,
I watch.
They choke,
I watch.
They suffocate,
I watch.
Stone-faced, I stare;
Raspingly, I breathe;
Uncontrollably, I twitch;
Inwardly, I rage.
I hope you die, I hope you die.
I hope you bleed, I hope you die.
I want you begging and crying,
I want you blubbering at my feet,
I want you gnashing at my ankles,
I want you writhing in pain,
I want your arm twisted off,
Cracking with the snapping sinews, I want your beating heart in my hands, I want your genitals uprooted and stuffed in your throat, I want your stomach so I can eat the still-digesting food, I want your shrunken head and I want to force my thumbs into your unblinking eyes and I want to tear your face in two and I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, I want you to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die, to die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die and die.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
Dear Mr. President
This is a letter from me to you. There are many who are displeased with you....but I'm actually quite proud of you.
You helped the automotive industry get back on track......even though you had the naysayers upon your back.
I feel many people put too much of the blame on you.....especially when there are other's involved. You can't achieve success alone....you need a team. Just like Dr.King.... I know you also have a dream.
I recall your visit to my state and eventually my city. You blessed my neighborhood with your presence. I saw people of different ethnicities standing as one. Everyone was smiling even the sun.
You bellowed words of inspiration into the mike. My family was gathered on the sidewalk and for once everything seemed to be alright.
I like how you are just a regular guy and love to play ball. I admire the fact that you get to play with the superstars who will eventually enter the Hall of Fame.
Your name has been etched in history .....I'm honored because I never thought I would see this in my lifetime. An African American giving The State of the Union Address in primetime and granting interviews on Nightline.
I love the example of marriage and fatherhood that is on display. It is often stated that "we" don't commit and are dead beat dads.....from what I've witnessed you aren't doing bad. Thank you for the positive image you have provided me.....it's a form of motivation for me.
I saw a picture where you had your feet on the desk and you were on the phone....but I knew that you were a hard worker from the hole in the bottom of your shoe. You were about the people and walked where we lived..... not in Hollywood or Rodeo Drive with your finger in the air doing your redition of ' Staying Alive."
Mr. President...the thing that really gets me upset....is the blatant form of disrespect. They continue to call you by your last name....You earned the title of President yet they deliberately leave it out. I often hear Mr. Obama or Barack.....how is this cool when you are obviously on the clock.
They showed respect to President Clinton and George Bush.....both of them even though he tried to steal a whole state....but no one will discuss that issue.....I guess I'm a few years too late.
You are highly educated and intelligent more than the media would like to say. I'll make sure to add you to my list of leaders when I pray.
Thank you President Obama for the example you have been. I believe that you deserve the opportunity to do it again.
Sincerely.......a struggling poet.
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 1:09 PM UTC
Love is the greatest force of all mankind...
of all cosmos, of all movement
of all that is wild and deranged
held safe in a locket, clandestine,
casually singing reigning from clouds of rain
sonnets of seismic sound sway trees
encouraging sodded fields grow greener than yesterday
yet sprightly and anew
soon
nudging the node
of the naysayers neighing,
bulging out their blue button ups
cramping, beastly belly's brooding to feast
on the blooming young,
the callow of a courageous continuum
trooping along gaily with gallantry
on trails, heralding gnarled roots
but this is rhythm
and rhythm is rhyme
and rhyme reconciles reasoning
"i love you for no other reason
but i love you"
says the tales of two
seeking singularity,
soaking in the sauna of one,
sovereign sun.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC
Pray for me,
God knows I need your prayers.
Amen.
Wish better on me,
God knows I'm beat down by naysayers.
Amen.
Eyes and hearts so vacant,
Starlet-smile empty shells.
Amen.
Easy words, complacent.
Open lips and full-up hells.
Amen.
Amen.
God is love, take me to church.
He knows I need something in my heart.
Hallelujah.
Accept me, catch me in this downward lurch.
God save the poor broken thing, this heart.
Hallelujah.
God is light, take me to church,
Darkness never scared me this much.
Hallelujah.
Please, don't hurt me, aide this search.
I can't think over the loudness, it's too much.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
Poems are known to be depressing
And that is the truth
Everyone knows it
Everyone has written one.
I will admit I have written several
It just makes you feel like you are doing something more productive
than wallowing in self pity
But what about the happy ones?
The ones that instead of making you shed a tear
Make you smile from ear to ear.
The ones that rhyme
and talk about a love that's lasted the length of time.
The ones that make you warm
And in your stomach butterfly's swarm
And everything seems colorful
and life is plentiful.
The ones that talk the greatness of life
O'how grand it is and always has been.
How possibilities are endless and
Dreams can come true.
But there are naysayers
But there are people who prefer darkness
But there are people who despise light
But they don't need to twist your thoughts.
Their thoughts can drag you down with them
They can twist our minds.
But.
Get rid of the negative thoughts.
Try bringing them up with you
Show them lightness and how if you dream hard enough
The sun can shine!
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 6:59 PM UTC
Year after year
--at daylight savings--
he kept moving his clock backward,
but never forward,
until he wound-up in the wrong century.
He then slept in masks,
his dreams repeatedly
disbanding and reforming,
as if in someone else's show,
but it was his hallucinating set-list, for sure.
He lived at the call of the void,
feeding off peppermint sticks
and clusters of chokeberry,
to help ease the pressure.
One phantom summer,
he read The Joy of Euthanasia
from cover-to-cover, over and over,
until he could recite death.
He poured his heart
into his new work
as an artist of tacenda,
--yes, he kept a lid on it.
And when the pretty young bees
buzzed about underneath
their brazen parasols,
he'd smile up at the sun
for her complicit glow:
the warmest days
always drew them out to him,
like honey on the tongue.
Now naysayers may keep
him out of Canton,
but one day, like most serial killers,
they will name a school after him
and his hijinks.
Nov 6, 2019
Nov 6, 2019 at 2:21 PM UTC
Following the path less taken
Over all the low roads and
Routes plummeting towards the craven
Gateways of Hell takes the travelers
Into enlightenment. Those who avoid Satan's
Vengeance and forked whispers
Emerge from the waters of the lake in
Nature's womb veiled in holy layers
Encompassing their soul. This ache in
Society seeps into the bones of naysayers
Slandering the purging powers of equal pardon.
Jun 24, 2019
Jun 24, 2019 at 12:17 PM UTC
Those beautiful flowers, I envy
People get to pick them at a glance
They usually have thorns
They never would have mind
What it feels like to be a ****
When forces of cliches
pull you out of hate
A pride that burns like a weep
could this be a mayday haste?
or just another fate doomed to be upstaged
The elbows that are fused
And the unforgotten triangles of loops.
Nonetheless we know.
With all the drums of war
And the roots beneath the willows-
Though large it may sound!
Misplaced and Escaped-
written in the naysayers hand
And a smile that doesn't at all rhyme.
Sure we all have died somehow
But this is the only place
A folly tree can fly.
Jun 13, 2011
Jun 13, 2011 at 8:20 AM UTC
Yea verily
The Movers and Shakers are society’s paveway makers.
They recognise a need, feel a cause and initiate action.
These people make things happen, they are the driving force in our society.
By virtue of their very nature, they are rarely perfect,
they have backgrounds and have, invariably, at some some stage of their life,
trodden on the daisies.
Our society could not do without these people.
They are a rare minority and because of their positivity and momentum
They make enemies.
The enemy of the Movers and the Shakers are the Naysayers and the Finger Pointers.
The Naysayers and Finger Pointers are the reactive side of society.
They rarely initiate and rarely expose themselves to the spotlight.
They fester in the shadows in their masses and froth into braying criticism
Which may, or may not, develop into righteous finger pointing and condemnation.
(Depending, of course, on the issue at hand and the degree of hysteria generated.)
The Naysayers and Finger Pointers are society’s negatives.
(They would say that they are society’s necessary checks and controls…
Which perhaps, to some degree they are.)
The realm of the Tall Poppy Syndrome is the perfect territory for Naysayer/Finger Pointer operation.
It provides the right mix of avarice, envy and vengeance to blend clandestinely beneath a covering cloak of righteous indignation.
And it provides the symbiotic platform for mass reaction from the great unwashed.
I note that Mayor Bob Parker and benefactor Sir Owen Glenn are the latest recipients of negative onslaught.
The Mayor has just announced that, after many years of public service, he has had a guts full of the braying abuse and is throwing in the towel.
I sincerely hope that he retires with wealth and lovely wife and that he bathes in the satisfaction of his many, many achievements…well away from the accusing crowd.
And if I was Sir Owen Glenn, I would abruptly cancel the offered, generous, $2 million finance for the Anti Domestic Violence Campaign
and with fierce eye tell the Naysayers and Finger Pointers of New Zealand society to go stuff themselves… then turn and walk away, never to return.
Marshalg
Pukehana Paradise
AUCKLAND
5 July 2013
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 4:28 PM UTC
Every time you take a leap
There’s someone pulling on your shoe
To pull you back and try to keep
You from doing what you do
Naysayers!
Jealous ones,
Block-your-sun,
Wreck-your-fun
Gloom mayors
The ones who simply won’t believe
You hold the power to achieve
But they don’t know what you can do
How strong you are, they don’t know you
So we won’t let them in our way
We’ll pay no mind to nayers’ say
They’ll have to judge us from afar
For they don’t know just what we are:
No-fretters
Can’t-bother-me
Get-off-my-tree
“I-will-succeed”
Go-getters
Soon enough they’ll surely see
Just how mighty we can be
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 8:30 PM UTC
I know you're not mine
But OK! its fine
Even though i can't ask you for dine
Nor for a cup of wine .
I try to be indifferent
when he holds you in his arms
Though I'm not a charm
But i know he is a harm.
I want you to be happy off course
But want to be the source
Its a paradox but personified.
The roses that I gifted you
Embellish your fair
Only if you tie in your hair.
My intentions are crystal clear
To love you and to be loved by you.
Its my heart and my will
I will spark love
In every breathe that you take.
It's my game
And it is certainly not for love fame
Great love stories in history
For me are always a mystery .
I will die in shame
The day I forget to love you
I can spend my whe life in expecting the same.
I'm optimistic
But not being realistic
I dream to conquer every
Chamber of your heart .
I don't belong to the naysayers
For I know god answer my prayers.
My glance turn into stare
How long i have to bare
This pain
Without having anything gain.
I'm on a roller coaster
That goes neither up nor down .
I'm starting to wonder
Is it because of my skin colour brown ?
My one sided affection
I want to deliver it to you without defection
The imperial affection.
The end
Naidu Chandra Pegu
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 11:29 AM UTC
How full of animation he was
when he talked about his hopes for the future
Blood brothers like "Teddy" & "Stray Cat";
Street rockers in the night, dancing for tomorrow
How right as rain that unique freaks should
Be too classic; Like **** Floyd"** with their
Hysteric glamour
How he kept the times exciting, (wild dancers)
And the information fresh (delivery staff)
Combined like graffiti, it said
Affected rocker rabbit rules the world
Made in his own image (take it easy, naysayers)
He's got it under control
How fast they ambush members only
With a speed to exceed mach
Let's enjoy their technical tennis,
Unique cheerful events like these are
What's to come
A baby winks at him, that's how he's sure
(And he writes)
Rude beats for the creatures of the night
Like how their young minds lead a
Casual amenity life
For all the heart broken kids and lovers
A global excitement (try it you'll like it)
Doing back flips to the sock hop
He made such an interesting excuse about
Why we was late
(Only experts) mix the drinks and shine the knives
So a person created; "Artificialman"
Will save his soul,
Please don't cry, the night dew
And wet sneakers are quite enough for now
Plus the plans for the future,
The Midnight Move
Feeling the darkness and never forgetting
The joy of singing together
How full of animation he was
When he sang of his exclusive adventures
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 4:42 PM UTC
The heavy smoke of war lay across the world it was laced with carnage and had the sounds of screaming
Shells and the screams of the dying men but as it continued its drift at the far edges a cloud and mist
Began to diminish the former and distil a brighter future there was the timid glory sounding the
Harking tribute of childlike memories the power of innocence to diffuse the base and inhumane
To spill across these scathing pages an ethereal presence that was empowering of good that
Could and did straddle time and space with magnificence drawing from exploration and history
That beheld the worst but mined the hidden gold to enrich the world it knew secrets that
Exposed the damnable lies that bankrupted former empires we were created to be conquers
Our mettle is an amalgamation of weak flesh but inherit in the confused and reciprocating
Action ultimately a flash of inspiration leaps from the spirit the dead end near sighted flesh was
At the wall of limitation now we stand at the zenith of the universe at its ever increasing of it
Self this inestimable spring of well being floods the low plains we ford these rich waters
Immediately our impoverished cares taste and smell the high and great call of hope we
Instinctively open our heart and mind as a great sail we find our self in the envious position as a
Seafarer our very sinew is awakened to promise and opportunity we have left far behind the
Naysayers we see gifts of beauty spread everywhere where all before was drear now victory is
Courting us to rise to even higher heights boldness infuses our demeanor we now throw off
Yesterdays doubting with eyes that are no longer dim we see with clearest vision and with
Steeled determination former days of being wistful vagabonds is forever forfeited we have the
Right and the might that Lincoln addressed his generation we align ourselves with the high
Ideals of past warriors and martyrs know this our enemies whatever your culture or ideals you
Have come among a stalwart people and the foundations of our forefathers will defeat you the
Same as others who came with inferior and demonized religions know this truth will and has
Made us free look well to yourselves continue and your destruction is guaranteed check the
Harbinger winds and save your selves from the only outcome that will befall you which is
Destruction
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
A prisoner of the hallucination,
hardly happy, quick to open a floodgate of personal misery,
talking often of unique pain, of places before been,
asking only for sympathy and creative license-
Past Ring Bearer/Future Funeral Singer,
you're selfish to think you mean much at all.
What was always is,
greater wisdom is greater sorrow,
ask the holograms begging on boulevards,
ask the nihilists and the naysayers,
or even the understanding heart of Solomon.
Life is a pastoral play using pastels,
washed away and rewritten over and over again.
Your superior melancholy is the loudest cliché.
If you've got any love, cradle it like a newborn babe.
It's the reason that will make you glad you stayed.
For every headstone,
there once was a bouquet.
For every brown, breaking leaf,
there once was a summer breeze.
For every noose-a necktie,
for every slave-a free.
No need to trudge the trough,
no need to join in the polyphonic symphony
of 7 billion people drowning under the current of time,
there is only personal progression,
but you have to shut up and dream for a second.
Jan 31, 2011
Jan 31, 2011 at 9:05 AM UTC
David Song
Yawning wide I awake amiss foes!
More Haters rise against wayward me
No beat say Haters have I in heart
Rhythm down for the count, no help
Roll & Rock.
Lordie lord, how wall sound wraps me round
Gloria singing song, smoking eyes
Let me sing too to you waking yawn
Holler and the caller, breaking rocks
Rock & Roll
Lays me down
And I awake with a lifting Yawn.
Bring it on you thousand Naysayers
Circling round and round against me
Wake up Yawn!
Salvation
Hits haters in cheek and tongue
There's more to me than broken Fang
Saved by master tape my longing Yawn
Beatle blessing to the masses of
Rock & Roll.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 9:45 AM UTC
Standing straight in the swirling straits,
A bridge - now outdated - whose chains bear great weight and history,
Bejewelled with diamond raindrops that glisten in the winter sun,
Lending the old bridge the look of a semi-submerged crown.
This bridge is a source of pride to the islanders,
Many stories are told of it,
Some are true and some are legend,
But one tale lies inbetween:
That of a giant King chased from the island.
Forced to leap across the boiling straits,
Barely making landfall,
Falling backwards as he did so,
Watching in horror as his crown tumbled to the ground,
Falling into the grey waters.
Many years went by,
And modern ways demanded a bridge.
As foundations were laid a discovery made!
Upon the shore, deep in ancient mud,
Poked out a colossal rusting iron crown,
News broke!
Everyone spoke!
The story was true!
A giant King had once ruled!
So, in honour of this ancient King,
The design was amended to honour this crown,
And that is why this bridge, in profile,
Resembles the ancient coronet,
Found on the shore of the waters that the Romans failed to cross.
Of course, naysayers claim there was no crown,
Merely publicity seekers who found an old iron fence,
And who contrived a tale with willing locals.
Whichever is true,
The bridge is part of a glorious view,
And stories abound of its construction,
Like the man who walked the length of the chain,
Stopping halfway to take in the view whilst making a shoe!
Or of the maiden who swore that all who crossed would suffer a loss,
As great as they could ever imagine.
This bridge, whose beauty is unsurpassed,
Is now part of a glorious past of truths, lies and legends.
But forever it will stand,
And many more stories it shall inspire,
For it no longer simply links lands,
But now links truth and myth...
Am byth.
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 5:05 PM UTC