Don’t make my bed the way you want yours
Teach me instead how to make a bed or a crib
Never let me into the habit of just counting sheep
I may want a field for to graze my goats
Don’t present me with a mural of your majestic self
Bestow me instead an art for my able hands
Never adorn my walls with vistas of far away lands
I may want to paint a fresco of my ancestors and elfs
Don’t dissent that which I chose for my goats, a field rural
Impart me the wisdom of your bones, your last fall
Never regret my choice of a fresco on that wall
I may want to paint your majesty counting sheep on our mural
Dont criticize to put me down, instead teach me with clarity
For times of scarce, when you're gone and lain
To the helpless left, we know sorrow and pity cant sustain
Search your heart for who is accountable for life's disparity
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Sylvi, I love the strength of conviction displayed within this poem. There are some wonderful lines which stand out for me: 'Never adorn my walls with vistas of far away lands I may want to paint a fresco of my ancestors and elfs' Now those are the words of a person, who is not about to be swallowed by another's style, Thanks.
GOOD write the first line a knockout my feelings exactly and your able hands wield the pen with great style 10 Chris xx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very different, but really enjoyable. I got the vibe that this was sort of a ode to us men who try to buy our way into graces instead of addressing the real route to a womans heart. I liked it alot, very nice. Check out my stuff if you get a chance.