Keith Sly Simpson

Rookie - 277 Points (26 January 1997)

Quirk Of Fate - Poem by Keith Sly Simpson

Let me tell you something,
That once upon a time,
There was a man who did nothing, but only crime.
As he was poor ‘n' didn't know, what to do ‘n' where to go.

He stole tiaras 'n' diamonds,
But hey, in turn wanted to go to prison.
"I don't care about money"- is what he said,
"All I want is food and shade".

Now his home was this jail,
Where he was deprived of love ‘n' care,
But it didn't mattered to him
Until that one day.

It was winter, grimly-gay,
Wind blew hard with tough air
Snow covers the milieu, whereas leaves abandoned the foliage.
And the man sat lonely on the park bench.

It was cold ‘n' he was feeling pale
Started thinking where to steal next,
So that he can go home, to his jail.
Where he'll get warmth and shade.

As he walked slowly, wishing to do
Bad and cruel, which will give him ticket to go to
A safe place, his jail.
Which he finds a lovely place.

He walked in a restaurant ‘n' ordered food
And when he was full
He tried to walk away without paying penny, which he should.
The manager bet him with plates instead calling to the jail.

His day was bad but again he tried
To break into a shop and commit a crime
But the owner thought he's not the thief
So he didn't call the police.

The man lost hope, and went in grief
Felt bad as no one thought him of a thief.
But old memories flashed his way,
He reached place where he became young ‘n' gay.

He watched the house where he used to live-
Where his mom used to sing lullaby for him,
Where he had scolding' but also shrimp,
Where he wrote poems and songs too.

As he watched the old address,
He went back and thought for a minute,
Did he made the best of his life,
And could he do what his mother might.

Did he ever think of change?
In these years he had made,
Many mistakes which wasn't in his rage.
But still he made many mistakes.

With such questions around him,
He found opportunities surround him
He now knew what's right,
That could take him towards light.

He swore on his life
To become someone greater than death,
He'll prove himself to be the best.
With this he started towards his talent chest.

With great passion in his heart ‘n' sparkle in his eyes
The man started to feel everything right.
He started to see insight.
Where he saw his future bright.

But just when he stepped forward
Towards the future, the present pulled his legs backwards,
He stumbled and fumbled,
And broke a piece of art on which he trembled.

The lady's rage was too bad for him
As then she called out somebody to help,
It was the cops, who took him to jail,
From where he started to post mails.

This quirk of fate is familiar to us all
We end up baffled when we try to resolve.
We end up in ocean of dreams without a sail
And sometimes, like the man, we end up in jail.
`


Comments about Quirk Of Fate by Keith Sly Simpson

  • (9/18/2012 2:01:00 PM)


    Great depth with your words young poet, excellent write. (Report) Reply

    3 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • (9/18/2012 2:01:00 PM)


    Great depth with your words young poet, excellent write. (Report) Reply

  • (9/18/2012 2:00:00 PM)


    Great depth with your words young poet, excellent write. (Report) Reply

Read all 3 comments »



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Poem Submitted: Monday, August 20, 2012



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