His Eyes Poem by Jerry Pike

Jerry Pike

Harrow, London, England

His Eyes



His Eyes

Into your eyes, each word, reflected as you write,
the starting glide of verse, endangered in its flight.
Through colours on parade, a pupil dares debate,
those questions of the old, writ fair across your fate.

You realise this Earth, has tricked us all with race,
religion lit the wax, that guided every face,
with moral tales of good, to temper in a fear,
along the narrow cause, that washes clean each year.

Keep some up high, on top, rest others near the street,
their rite to make ends start, a fight to make ends meet.
Divide by local tone, then size and colour hair,
by height and sex and slant, by leanings of despair.

Premeditated love, compacted in a box,
laid out before like fish, temptation for the flocks.
No food within their grasp, another world away,
we waste with every rasp, to others on the way.

But their within your eyes, I read reflections tale,
the plan all signed and sealed, the ship we’d never sail,
but talk we do ourselves, into our own sweet ruts,
escape the depths my friend, just takes a lot of guts.

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Jerry Pike

Harrow, London, England
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