There is a fullness brewed from thinking,
That denies our banal play;
From this broth we should be drinking
Oft, along our thirsting way.
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My serenity is not disturbed,
By keeping up with Jones;
Who trades his car, just every year
And owes for most he owns.
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Quite often on life's crowded way,
I let the rumbling herds pass by;
With slackened gait I search the sky,
To find the role that I must play,
'Ere curtains fall and death holds sway.
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He writes so pure, so true and sure
And does it with so little fuss.
I only know him from the way
He signs his name-A. Nony Mous.
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Dear Lord, when will I ever reach
The pinnacle from which I preach?
I love this poem Joe, especially the last two lines 'Dear Lord, when will I ever reach The pinnacle from which I preach? ' I too am searching for that very same place,10 from me!
WITH SLACKENED GAIT I SEARCH THE SKY................. Quiet cool the passage of poetic garden a poet moves with his tranquil gesture of touching the infinity with his intelligence. Cool the move. As we make the noise of reading, perhaps another wave will make him create another one.....we think so....as a reader...... The breaks are of different perspectives but thread is eternal. 10+++ Regards, pranab
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow! is the first thought to come to mind upon reading this. It is so good. The last two line resonate deeply with me. Great writing Joseph.