A horse was unleashed today, as a sign of envy.
The goal was to shorten my day, excruciating time's ending.
How do we stop hate, pain, and ingrates of life,
Who would rather see others in strife than might?
He walked a gentle path, unaware that the move
Sought to lure his blood towards streets to ooze—
As if his death could improve
The incredible mess they deal with this afternoon.
A life of hatred only brews and brews.
It's never right to implore those bored;
Who chooses to adore such a futile chore?
Our paths to the shore
May be troubled by moors,
But we can always, eternally,
Edwin Cordero's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Ignore by Edwin Cordero )
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
William Carlos Williams
(17 September 1883 – 4 March 1963)
(18 July 1933)
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Harivansh Rai Bachchan
(27 November 1907 – 18 January 2003)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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