The Naked Man : A Freewrite Poetry.
Source
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Wasn't each property gotten from toils?
A hustle, rush, making ends meet, financial gut
Isn't life a smoke from finished coils
A little it's here, at another, gone, no more.
...
Nothing am ever satisfied with
A jealousy for others things
Have, have, have, till I became a hoard beast
Lying still in the box, to know I came with nothing.
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And so we worked harder the more
Getting no rest, luxury, a must
In the heat of the day, cold of the night,
more
Till our flesh gave way, starts to hurt and burn.
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And I looked again to see men's toil
Under the sun just to make a mark
We've lost the essence, and so we worked
In and out of season, man and God, not in touch.
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To the wealthy who sleeps rich
To the poor rat, whose clothes are stitched
A denominator for them all that fits
Naked, with nothing they shall go six feet.
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It's still a naked man, the wretched soul
His going out is from above, so is his coming in
Never for once look up and say thanks
And naked he shall go to His maker.
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An entry into @Mariannewest everyday freewrite
#freewrite
#freewritepoetry
#freewritepoetrydigest
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True words in your poem, @botefarm.
You are absolutely right.
Golden lads and girls all must
as chimney sweepers come to dust.
It’s the promptest of prompt delivery teams here with the challenge for today:
https://steemit.com/freewrite/@mariannewest/day-593-5-minute-freewrite-wednesday-prompt-carnation
And naked he shall go to His maker.
That's a memorable line! Every line is - I love this -
To the wealthy who sleeps rich
To the poor rat, whose clothes are stitched
A denominator for them all that fits
Naked, with nothing they shall go six feet.
Bravo!!!