John G. Nelson
Thereâ€™re groans, after all is said.
Hurts and troubles hole & bruise,
Whence disquieting thoughts sway,
And Imprison my joys and cheers.
Somewhere, hurts pummel bones,
Make me groan, I neglect my peace.
Sometime, I cry my heart out to God,
Questioned, how could this happen.
Grief and sorrow become my eyes,
They make me see sins and woes,
Agonies & groans become my gob
They Curse, make me feel unworthy.
Sometime, I find no taste for life,
My Ailing emotions hurts and burn.
Many time, Silence become my voice,
And agitations become my thoughts.
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Comments about this poem (Groans by John G. Nelson )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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