Freedom Poem by Jacob Gifford
Freedom
I’m a weed on
A cliff, I hang out with
An eagle, but maybe the
Flowers are the weeds.
I’m free and they
Are not, I cling to rocks,
They cling to a pot of dirt.
When there is an earthquake
I will be safe but the flowers
Will not. They are plucked
And put into jars of water
They will die, but I will
Live free and long.
Nice write. At least expressed such a way, a child could understand what poet thinks.
poor flowers, another interesting piece, well written and expressed
That's weed for you... Hanging out on a high ; -) Sorry, could not resist that.... great poem, makes you think, doesn't it....
Nice write. I said the same in fewer lines. Please read my Wild Flower. Enjoyed yours. Thanks
Fascinating. From the perspective of the weed, whose lease on life is normally one of disdain from human considerations. The weed sits next with the eagles. Strong and independent. It has a hardy life, but it still appreciates what it has. Even though it's sessile, it has the freedom to be itself, and to cling to the rocks. I liked this poem, please look at some of mine!
Well written Jacob. Weeds certainly have great survival skills. Congratulations on making poem of the day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 8:56:32 AM # 1.0.0.1119
flowers die and go away but when you plant another one it represents who you are and you will always be free just believe in yourself