John Henry

I fancied writing something a little less introspective, so I picked an object off my desk and wrote about it.

A little book sits in my palm,
Inscribed 'New Testament and Psalms'.
The Word of God, of love, of death:
Transcriptions from mere mortal breath.

We read of peace and hate and war,
But words mean what we use them for.
Man neither dies for swords nor quills,
But for the other man, who kills.

For all its lists of prayers and sin,
The power neither lies within
the pages man has written on,
Nor goes away when the book is gone.

Esen

That is an original refreshing poem .
Thanks a lot. I really enjoyed it.

__________________
~Esen
What is everyone doing in my room?

J.R.V.A.

That was cool, I like the poems that come like this, Thanks

__________________
And as she plays,
her sweet song of laughter
floats through the air
and warms my heart