Robert Edgar Burns
Life is like a cargo ship.
We are the passengers on board.
It reaches it's destination
On a foreign distant shore.
We travel then for many miles
From the cradle to the grave.
Sometimes we revel in freedom.
Other times we feel as slaves.
I remember loosing baby teeth,
Before I grew peach fuzz.
I had to shave at twelve years old,
Or sent home from school I was.
Today I tried to hit a ball.
With a bat I took a swing.
I threw my shoulder out of place.
That is a painful thing.
I never did things just half way.
I put my all into every job.
But now I am a bag of bones
And I feel just like a blob.
I believe this is a stage of life.
But I fight against the waves.
It's hard when your limitations,
Slow you down more every day.
I cried when I was just a boy
And found my favorite but broken toy.
That is exactly what I am now,
And this knowledge brings me no joy.
Can I please borrow some super glue
To make me as good as new?
I understand the Good Book says,
That's exactly what the Father will do!
Oh Lord there are children today
Who start their lives as broken toys.
Put in the hearts of everyone
New love for all girls and boys.
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Comments about this poem (BROKEN TOYS by Robert Edgar Burns )
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- Sharp Is The Bite, Donald R Charon
- Erato my Muse of love poetry. (Part 2), Erato
- Headache, Foster Teegarden
- Autumn Season, Tirupathi Chandrupatla
- mommy, Josephine Taylor
- Friendly Union, Tirupathi Chandrupatla
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
- Heather Burns
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631)