Let me never,
Have to consider the means by which the grass is best grown
Or the humidity of the air I breathe, as I reach out into the rain
Because of the compulsion of my nature.
I would have changed for the worse
Were I to lay in green fields with a close friend
And think of money I am owed
Or how my stocks are doing
Or whether or not my suit shall stain.
There are more pressing matters on my clouded mind
And on my heart,
Than the temperature of my coffee
Or the cut of my hair.
I would rather be with my God given troubles
Which temper the best in me,
Than for all reasoning unladen,
But by the prison in which I have placed myself,
Where the only bars are lower level thinking
Than that of which I dream
And that of which I aspire.
Author notes
I said I preferred a critical review. That is to dissuade the, "dis pom is so da kool" commenters. If however you wish to comment on the poem without writing a 3,000 word essay on where I went right or wrong with it, and simply appreciated it (or didn't), feel free to comment. Feel even freer to use proper grammar, and to write sensibly.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Oops.
Perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned grammar. Some smartass is bound to point out my flagrant misuse of commas. I do use them a LOT. Far, far too often within my writing people will find commas hammered out with the frequency of a firing machine gun. My apologies for my hypocrisy.
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