The death of youth
Be not easy
To grasp as truth,
Destined must
Be so replaced,
Rendering thus
An altered state,
Though dispiriting
As youth’s fate,
Means be alive
If not beyond,
Ineluctable demise…
Hence youth’s adjust
To deal with age
Be hardly just,
Made so compose
With dwindling days,
When point but reached
Life’s ordained way,
Be yet blurred concern,
To grasp the death of youth!
A little girl
Fated to a shell,
A hidden pearl
Enduring dwell
Of transient hell,
Trying to be wise
In destiny’s guise…
There’ll be a day
Life in this shell
Be deemed ill fit,
And so give way
To end submit,
As time to reach
Outside oneself,
To start a life
Of venture wide,
Tho trisomy holds
An altered place,
For a little girl
Fated to a shell,
Like a hidden pearl!
Food for thought
In times of yore
Said life was core,
Hence so man’s lot
Held meant forage
Be his sedulous chore…
Though venal man
Saw food for life
In a deceitful way,
Evoking thought
Of avarice gain,
Altered for greed
As man regressed
To lower bane,
Set grow false feed
Of a genetic deed,
While fellowman
Begged nature’s need
Reach deaf politic ears,
And so for life made plead!
Poetry on a canapé 