Here is my latest poem. Hope you like it!
The wall clock cried loud,
It is midnight.
The boy from view darkness shrouds
On a page he continues to write.
The time speeds on,
While the world continues to sleep,
He sits and works alone.
He believes one day fruit he will reap.
In the morn they see him toil,
When the sun’s glow is still dim.
In vain his work they try to foil,
But never can they stop him.
They call him a fool,
Laugh at his every action.
By this, his passion they fuel,
Call him weak when he gives no reaction.
Years from then he sits in his extravagant car,
While they find excuses for their failure.
Today he is a man of power,
but they say it was due to luck mere.
They find a million people to blame.
Say that life is unfair.
Oh they will ever be the same,
They will always have the most to fear.
They bash his fame,
with jealousy they burn,
But within him is a greater flame,
a flame which only passion can earn.
They say these ideas don’t work in real life,
Maybe they don’t for you.
You may call it unnecessary strife,
But why abuse those for whom they do?
But with these ideas he will rise,
For his passion is a fire.
This fire will earn him his prize,
This passion will take him higher.