Uriah Hamilton

Life Is A Blessing

Whoever said life is a blessing,
Told a satanic lie!
You struggle
Until you die,
A soulless body,
Just a nose bleed to a society
Not wanting to know
The acne face of your failures.

I’ve been humbled
On heartless streets,
Dejected without deliverance,
Spending my affection
On household plants,
Whispering to unresponsive
Rose petals.

Unromantic parks!
Horse and carriages
Move in gloomy rain,
Dead lilac bushes
Have flowerless branches
Void of fragrance.

At a newsstand,
You eat a sandwich;
An old lady is mugged,
A young girl raped;
You wipe your mouth,
Forget to say grace.

Hoodlum clans
Prowl like
Hungry dogs,
Violent plans,
Maximum free enterprise!

There is
Typhoid fever at dawn
As welcoming
As feminine blood
On a toilet seat.

The November sky
Is dying,
I’m expecting be buried
Beneath decaying leaves
In a cemetery of nameless paupers.

Poem Submitted: Friday, December 2, 2005

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Comments about Life Is A Blessing by Uriah Hamilton

  • Frank James Ryan Jr...fjrFrank James Ryan Jr...fjr (6/16/2015 10:55:00 PM)

    Powerful expression delivered with polished lexia...~FjR

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  • Ivy Christou (12/2/2005 6:27:00 PM)

    Life is a blessing my friend but it is too buried Beneath decaying leaves.. go into that cemetery and dig it out! it is yours to take! !
    Take care

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  • Raynette Eitel (12/2/2005 2:56:00 PM)

    Uriah, you need to move to a different spot where lilacs blloom gloriously and people smile back at you when you say 'good day.' You need to associate with peoople who truly believe life is a blessing and then act like it.


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  • Ulrike Gerbig (12/2/2005 2:54:00 PM)

    a very beautiful painful poem.


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  • Joseph Daly (12/2/2005 1:05:00 PM)

    I go along with Mary on this. You structure the work so well and place such wonderful lines where they are least expected. it almost makes you forget the theme.

    Brilliant all the same Uriah

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  • Mary Nagy (12/2/2005 11:58:00 AM)

    Yes, you are in a dark mood huh Uriah? What I love about how you write is your ability to describe what seems to be the ''entire life'' of the subject in your poems. It's like we know them so well we could almost predict where they will go next or what they will do. Probably due to such wonderfully vivid images. (even if they're not ''pretty'') You're a pro Uriah. Sincerely, Mary

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