Simply - Poem by Alexander Coppedge
I want to be, in my life, something special.
What in this whole world, shall I be?
I, a worm, flip wiggling in strides.
A bird on watch, me, prey seeking.
I, a turtle, popping head out of the mud.
A sidewinder slithering, me, in tall grass.
Me, a swimming fish, under the sea.
Or I, hooked back weasel, ready to fight.
Only I hold this choice, in me, being.
Figure in aims, to be, must be kind.
I see them, a chest holder, with virtues.
Them an honest heart: others can claim.
Choice of my being: not, odd or strange.
I considering all picks: I to be, like me.
A thoughtful caring beloved person.
You cross me, waving with hi, and see.
Faith trusting to give, to breed hope.
I, a foreigner, passing you in the rain.
My voice with blessings in things clever.
I, a giver, considered generous, indeed.
I, a speaker, divine in trance chants.
I must be esteemed in all degrees.
Views giving us riches and big gains.
I, in the human heart, a healer, working.
Peace, repetitiously, awakening to us.
I need to be, a perfect pitched, tone.
Meadows, flourishing, we all can graze.
I presenting to all a table, crops reaped.
Mouth's treats flowing for us in fortunes.
Notes I will play amplifying love in sound.
Vision, I give, leading out of darkness.
My truth bell ringing birth of wisdom.
My choice is to play music, simply.
I, a word to wipe tears, with truth.
Me to be, being, beyond others opinions.
Intents me becoming, fulfilling something.
I to see, of those, most needed dreams.
Me to be, the greatest thing, all I can be.
I will pluck out progress upon a harp.
Strings, I clang, sounding its twangs.
Song, I will sing, with warming thoughts.
I, marching, among the masses.
I need to be a beacon to guide.
My light, beaming, as bright as the sun.
I, being a winner, leaving old denials.
Shadows of my hate going behind.
I to resurrect people from death.
I to be able to feed world hunger pain.
I and them, being one, in reasoning.
United, joined combating enemies.
Against a host without regards for us.
A leader in a world that aims starves.
My fingers playing notes of freedom.
My fight with wild killing machine.
Vigorously, I am plucking, me playing.
I for righteous liberties.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
What should I be? The only thing you could be Simply
Comments about Simply by Alexander Coppedge
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe