To some a seeker, to others a fool.
A rich man, a winner,
a poor man, a king.
A writer, a scholar,
a criminal, a cop.
To all whose boundaries like somewhere,
a fool you are not.
A centurion of words,
a seeker of truth,
and the word man writes what he sees.
Fools prey upon the conscience of others.
Rich see to rule and conquer,
while the poor beg their way through.
Criminals steal their goals,
but a writer writes his dreams away.
Puritans seek to purify,
criminals seek to steal.
Rich men seek to be richer,
Poor men seek to survive.
Writers seek to homage,
only stories to unfold.
You really are special David, another wonderful write by a true poet, love it. --Melvina--
A man of words, yes, I think that would some you up nicely! great write David Hope all is well with you and your closest, Take care Love duncan X
Wonderful poem again my friend, is your talent without end...: -)
And so...the writer seems to come out of all this, smelling like a rose...or does he? For whom does the writer seek homage....others whom he may glorify, or for himself, as some I know! ! Deep thoughts, David...very deep...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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