Generation
Things true of yesterday
are different today?
where was I? to have a say
Rolled by unseen circumstances
Daily changes in life, seems like it
came in a blanket overnight
crept through the darkness
it decided to stay
as in my own sweat, I had to lay
wondering, without warning
How miracleously it appeared
when so evil, who thought it so dear?
Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.
Unknown Source
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| THE SINGER | 0 | 06/29/2009 |
| Cry Out! | 0 | 06/20/2009 |
| Our Pastor | 0 | 06/20/2009 |
| What if...? | 0 | 06/20/2009 |
| Generation | 0 | 06/01/2009 |
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