The joy to look up at the sky,
And say, today, I'm free to do
Whatever is that poets do,
But that gives me no great content,
For I know not where freedom went,
It seems that violence and deep lies,
Have taken over all that slides,
Right into oceans of despair,
And no one really seems to care,
Our world divided into parts
While Fools keep pushing crooked carts.
I cannot let any one view dominate my thoughts, at least not for too long. The world is a horrible place often, as is my own country, but I do make plenty of time to look at the sky and do what poets do
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I'm with Kelly. I go there sometimes with my poet's pen too. Can't stay too long. Its not good for the soul...but important to let it run its course sometimes. Your pen is really flowing these days! :)