2024 November Poems >> before the jury of the Sage/this age

No. 02  
 
before the jury of  
the Sage/this age  
 
“It is not the man who has too little, but the man  
who craves more, that is poor.”—Seneca  
 
i write/right life’s wrongs to make this world a better place to live.  
i sing/swing sweet songs that metronome dull spirits from dismay.  
i live/leave death far behind poor kinfolk destinied to grieve.  
i hear/heir suave silence as a gift, to souls in disarray.  
 
i see/seize the blindness of a white-cane man lost in the street.  
i taste/test the bitterness of bitter salt that some must suck.  
i feel/field the numbness of hearts batter-bruised  
by trick or treat.  
i smell/smelt the rat intent on dragging hope into the muck.  
 
i seek the eye/high of lowliness, to elevate the brand.  
the weak/week, in time, shall flourish, as lean days grow into years.  
the fools/fuels that foul the atmosphere with recklessness shall stand  
before the jury of the Sage/this age, who rules in man’s affairs.  
 
© Copyright 2024 November 06  
by Clyve A. Bowen♫