Leaking Pen

Rookie - 367 Points (Wellington, New Zealand)

My God, my God, My God!


Should I swear?
Should I curse?
Should I wear?
The devil's verse!

My God, my God, My God!
Your promise: An angelic squad!

No where to be found
No where to be crowned
Shifting winds too loud
I am lost in the crowd

What chances does a spec of sand?
Have, when blown from land to land!

My mother never meant me to be a gypsy
Homeless - hunger to mouth - always tipsy

I saw a tall stunning proud marble archangel
Solid feet, statuesque, guarding every angel
The riches of the rich final resting place
Double the merit, Earth and Heavenly trace.

Silver coins bought their way to eternity
Destitute fetches breadcrumbs my luxury!

March 14,2013
Copyright Leaking Pen 2013

Submitted: Friday, March 15, 2013
Edited: Saturday, November 15, 2014

Topic of this poem: fate


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  • Rookie - 69 Points Bright Morn (4/11/2013 9:24:00 AM)

    Great poem sir, really liked the rhyme of the poem,
    My mother never meant me to be a gypsy
    Homeless - hunger to mouth - always tipsy
    These lines are touching, very good write,
    Regards (Report) Reply

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