Hope Poem by Paddy J. P. Harris
Hope
For here there’s no where left to sink this staff
Of weary hope, now bent and rotten.
Earth with all its filth and grime will take
That thing, and all shall be forgotten.
Instead I plant my staff on shrouded isles
Across the western seas unbending,
Or better yet above the rainy clouds,
To stand with stars for time unending.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
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5/10/2024 9:05:25 AM # 1.0.0.1119
this poem is really nice, especially the 2nd paragraph. good job