04 Jun 2016 – Sonnet
Seductive whispers bend the boughs that sway
beneath the need that overwhelms the eyes,
and all their chatter ever seems to say
is “what can one soul do -why even try?”
We drown beneath each capsized boat of grief!
We weep as every shattered city sinks!
The mighty men of earth mock thoughts of peace,
so people perish – spilling blood for drink!
No man of wealth, no voice which men regard,
no echo comes when I cry out in pain.
What worth is there in some fat, foolish bard
as devestation strikes the earth again?
May birds that stain my tombstone never sing:
“He had nice thoughts, but never did a thing!”