Let Me Up Poem by Oleg Vorobyov

Who are those placid people
with mild hearts and no pretence?
No turmoil but some ripples,
passing their minds by chance,
leave a dent and settle soon.
They unlikely might be grudgy,
nursing huffs and minding wrong.
True and far from being fudgy,
they are plain as two and two.
Plain in what they look so natural.
Claims are lowest are clue
to an unpretentious patchwork
of their mould and mental cast.
So, they're naively innocuous:
simple, readable and just.
Who could see a clearer focus?
So, mild-hearted might be blessed!
Plainness so sickening
to me, that I cry: no placid,
no such dry and tasteless thing!
Wish I saw their hearts aglow,
wish I saw them rave and dash,
wish I saw ‘em repel not bow
to what might them grind and crash!
If they only had a stomach
live through life of fiery blaze!
Like a flaming racing comet
wish they would our skies amaze!
I, myself, so checked by meekness,
never striving for the grand,
to my mould bear witness
and thus swear as I stand:
hence, raise fiery motivation
not to smoulder but glow!
jumpstart from your humble station!
claim what high and not what low!
09.02.2015 г