Saturday, June 2, 2012


chose the topic


I long ago decided that the people in my past
Were probably serfs or peasants, nothing more.
I see them as quite lowly, never making waves,
Probably uneducated, poor.
Why do I say this? Well, for sure, the little that I know
Convinces me that they were lowly-born,
Wrong spellings, signing with a cross and other things like this,
Just makes me think of them as objects of some scorn.
There's no blue blood, no mighty deeds, no bright, patrician features!
Hunger, cold and penury hold sway;
I see them on the bottom rung, while others rule the world,
Their duty only to obey.
But.....I do not feel superior to my ancestors of old,
Because I know that I am just the same,
I am a lowly creature, just a cog in the machine;
A number hardly worthy of a name.
The difference is the era; I don't feel like a serf,
Though my attributes are no more grand than theirs'.
I am thankful that I live in this and not an earlier age.
I think that I'll start putting-on some airs!


Marching over the horizon,
Like an army bearing down,
A battalion of raindrops
Coming to soak the town.

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