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On life and its vagaries

When I Pick Myself Up and Start to Walk

with 2 comments

Poetry is something that makes sense out of the jumble that we see around. I can barely do that. But I amuse myself with the rhythms that filter into me and fashion thoughts (?) to suit them. I do not experiment with rhymes usually; but this is an effort in that line. It’s a lame one I know.  I hope it’s humorous in some way!


When I Pick Myself Up and Start to Walk


When I pick myself up and start to walk

I am in need of a staff that doesn’t balk!

And when I sit down, preparing to talk

I desire listeners who fear not the clock!


When I lie down, I want a bed so soft

That to pure etheric heaven I would float!

When I dream, I want to roam the world

And only such places as provides the gold!


When I sleep, I desire one so very calm

That it would heal all wounds like a balm!

When I wake, I want things to be bright

So I would know that something’s alright!


When I ……….. Oh I have so many things to state

That it would be like a river in spate!

But out of kindness to some who still hate

My very existence, I would leave it all to fate!


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Written by Sam

January 3, 2010 at 7:15 am

2 Responses

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  1. Beautiful…

    flightlessdove

    January 3, 2010 at 8:17 am

  2. Thanks

    Sam

    January 3, 2010 at 3:03 pm


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