The Cure - Poem by Jacob Coleman
I thrust my heart upon a pen;
Scrawl hard “love hurts” till heart is nil.
Always (now and then) till I die
I will search for the reason why
Shreds of the best and worst of men
Here shut with a soul’s shadow’s seal.
Late and no later will I sigh;
I will pant and ask my Reason why
I must, my soul, with this self pen
Jot soft “love heals” till heart is still.
Comments about The Cure by Jacob Coleman
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- TelevisionRoald Dahl
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda