Or only did he think so,
Flowers he watered to flourish,
By his sweat hills greened,
Harvests glimpsed at their land.
Only after a dropp of blood,
Something was now solved.
Birds sung at sight of harvests.
In his toil they partied.
Tears dried on his face till drain
His heart beat, yes, was his
No one cared if it stopped
Heaven and hell who knew where;
A soul to win at the end, may be
That was who he was, i can say.
Then he slept.
Or only did he think so too.
It all happened again,
Only that he looked on now,
Flowers flourished better.
Hills all grew green,
Birds sung in dry spells.
His tears, never touched his nose
He was happy that’s what i can say.
His heart beat, no, their heart beat.
Was one, they all shared it.
They were one, yes, i was there
They were brothers in him.
Christ Jesus i mean,
He really was living now.
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Comments about this poem (Living life by Caleb Tukahiirwa )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
- Naveed Khalid
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Sir Walter Scott
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Christmas Trees, Robert Frost
- Exposure, Wilfred Owen
- Alone, Edgar Allan Poe
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- Ring Out , Wild Bells, Alfred Lord Tennyson
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