The mighty power of Nature is beyond human control
And when Mother Nature gets angry of human lives she takes toll
The tsunamis or sea quake in South Asia left thousands of people dead
Of this most recent disaster so much written and said.
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I'm not interested in football or baseball or tennis or cricket or art
Or opera or modern poetry some call me a boring old fart
I'm just one of many poetasters a writer of doggerel rhyme
For me the fun is gone out of living I'm wearied by old father time.
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You will die when the reaper will come for you though others
on that have different to say
Such as when god says you've had your innings and to beg for his mercy to him they pray
I may be wrong and they may be right who knows for their guess is as good as mine
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From lying your soul is in spiritual poverty
But the truth though hard to say will surely set you free
Of any sense of guilt you may possess
And lead you on the road to happiness,
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In this multicultural City where every race dwell
Every individual have their own story to tell
People of every Nation from places far and near
Of every culture you will find them here.
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Someone must have told him years ago that smiling is a crime
And I've never once heard him to laugh though I've known him for some time
He always wears a serious look they call him poker face
It would seem that in his sad heart for joy there isn't space.
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So beautiful to look at in the sun of a Winter's day
They feed upon the thistle seeds by the fence by the roadway
A small flock of goldfinches in red and fawn and gold
In their beautiful colours so lovely to behold.
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He has just turned fifty his fastest pace slow
He is not the man he was twenty years ago
When they used to toast him at the local pub
And he was the hero of the football club
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The wise they are born for they cannot be made
And you can't teach the old dogs the tricks of their trade
And it seem sad to think you need not travel far
For to find one of seventy who glorifies war
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