Worn black book
By hrmn_jl2
- 861 reads
My father preached from a worn black book
and always from a careworn heart
the people looked on his wrinkled face
with reverent head and crying eye
The book was ripped and torn in form
but beaten and battered it held them up
his words carried with loving tone
and advice of sternest truth was told
I walked in his darkest shadow
for in the night his demons raged
against his children his hand raised
the hand that beckoned God to the people
how can two be one and one be two
who is he that is not true
for greater imposter there cannot be
my father, monster and angel inside me
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Comments
I like both of the poems that
I like both of the poems that you have posted so for but of the two I think this one is the stronger submission, well done on them both though and welcome to ABCtales.
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I liked the way this writing
I liked the way this writing turns from the portrayal of sincerity and love at the point - 'I walked in his darkest shadow', and then we see an all together darker picture. That's well done. Good poem.
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