Paul MacLean


Seven - Poem by Paul MacLean

Praise the Creator
Do not think yourself a God
Worship no body, or bow down to false thoughts
Take a day to be at ease, to praise and to be pleased
Your parents support your life,
With the best of mortal abilities
Honour their life, with your
Sensitivity
Murder sends you to a dark grave
To sexually cheat is to be a slave
Steal and your life will be living hell
Lie and your own snares will tangle you well
Always wanting what you cannot have, is the base of one root
Can you hear the piper?
That sweet song from a flute

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Poem Submitted: Monday, July 17, 2006

Poem Edited: Tuesday, August 17, 2010


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