PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Conscience comes to knock upon my door,

With a quick shrill rap of times before,

And asks me, "Pray-tell what are you doing here?"

As the clasping, dragging guilt awaits to appear,

"When for instead you could be saving lives,

In practice of a greater life,

How can you hold this present dear?

When does repentance become quite clear?



I look them squarely in the eye,

Well as good as I can, well they be inside,

And chuckle in hope to release,

The strangle on my heart, these thieves,

And say to them in tones quite deep,

That if not me I would not exist,

And it is not life that I find cheap,

But the doubts of me the they persist.



And if you have come to pull me up,

Then ready I be for I have supped,

And dined in chalets and pecked in bins,

With meek endurance and reckless din,

For tomorrow knows no greater way,

That you do show to me of all,

Than the very presence of today,

Does come to leave me quite appalled.



So I shall join you in your quest,

Of getting poor souls out of bed,

For them to wake up and arise,

In hope that they may realise,

That life is gallant and full of challenge,

That spurs us on with no question of,

The right in questioning if we should manage,

To come closer our Personal God.



And in a blink they were gone,

Not wishing to be pressed upon,

In toil of their unerring ways,

That with the truth hear only praise,

And for you all if you should come,

Upon a situation that makes one doubt,

Please 'not become a little glum,

Just love 'em in and love 'em out.