John Sensele Poems

Death is the moderator that levels the playing field
For the rich and the poor to escort each person
To receive according to his input the yield
That he earned without committing treason or arson.
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Jill gave Bill breakfast
Lunch, supper, much more
Which Bill snapped fast
Soon enough Jill grew sore.
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Death drives daggers
When it snatches a breadwinner
When death a family staggers
Although a deceased was no sinner.
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You love me-so you say
When I press you for proof
You claim you I waylay
Without any trace of shame under my roof.
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Don't tire, set my heart on fire
Until love soars supreme
When both you and I no more ire on the sly
To sully our noble name, claiming it conjures up blatant blame.
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A little love, a little laughter
From hearts that care
From lips that flatter
Go a long way towards diminishing warmth warfare.
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Hunt down hospices of unhappiness
Regardless of circumstances
That rain sorrow and sadness
In your heart in near and far distances from acquaintances.
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Only God hears my cry
When under pressure I teeter to the verge of collapse
As my patience and endurance they braii
Until their machinations and fabrications drive me near relapse.
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Pound of flesh, pound for freedom
When I crush him in my arms
To fly away to a cute kingdom
Where we no longer feel undue qualms.
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Hearts hardly hassle, faces fake
Beware of priorities
You embrace by mistake
Lest you should reap indignities.
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