Death Of A Salesman - Poem by Ted Sheridan
With the costly stain of blood on my mercenary soul
I prayed for God to release me from our contract.
I no longer wished to participate in the death of a people
who were too ignorant to comprehend past discrepancies
and yet so willing to accept the tainted words and slogans
of false prophets as proof positive that all would be well;
if only we would believe that everything in life is….
“New and Improved”
2008 © TS
Comments about Death Of A Salesman by Ted Sheridan
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- TelevisionRoald Dahl