| *~*My Poetry III*~* |
| When I Think About Myself When I think about myself, I start to smile. I think about the roads i've traveled, Mile after mile My whole life becomes unraveled, When I think about myself Many a thing that I've done wrong, Many a thing that I've done right. My life, an unending song, All seems to come into sight. I've done lots of things bad, and lots of things good. I done most of what I should, and everything I could, When I think about myself. Some peole have had wonderful lives, Some have had them not so cool. People look at me and say, "She strives To be successful." I think things that are good, and sometimes bad, When I think about the life that I've had. |
| A Quiet Ministry You can touch All nations, You can reach everyone. A quiet ministry, So easily done. You wite down the words Laid on your hear. It gets hard to stop, After you start. The words just flow Like a river so deep. When people read it, They might even weep. Language of the soul, Silent song, Calms the spirit, Like the sound of a gong. A full moon In the darkest night, Poetry gives The blind man sight. You can spreat the good news With the stroke of a pen. Think of the doors These lyrics can open. You can reach the world If you just take part, All you need Is a pen and a heart. |
| Lemons Lemons are sour, just like my life. People against me through all of my strife. I envy those who get what they need: Clothes, shoes, and meals that'll feed. Twenty-five years livin' on the street. Can't stand the cold, really hate the heat. The world is polluted. I can't get a job. People spit on me and call me a slo. "Stay in school." they said. I graduated with honors. I feel sorry for those who dropped out. They must be goners. Alotta good that schoolin' did me. I am no one, and no one I'll be. Thanks education; I'm so glad you wasted my time. I live in a box and don't have a dime. Lemons are sour, just like my life. The honest man ends up with the strife. |