A Song Of Poem by Will Barber
A Song Of
It's not how your life was formed,
It's not just how you reached the end;
I'ts not the songs or rhymes you made
It's how you sought to make amends.
What did you do? What did you say?
Why do questions go this way?
Search your conscience, search your brain,
The questions will all come again.
Every day may lead us forth
Courageously, upon the Earth;
Each moment has a coward's cry
If we but let the Earth spin by.
Grasp the nettle, sing of peace
The pleasures, pains the years bring forth:
But still repent; eternal doubt
Leads us to comfortable Night..
Night is not comfortable, because Dawn
Comes urgently to lead us on:
Hope intervenes, and makes us pause,
Dwelling betimes within this house.
Sing your hymns, recite your Psalms:
This is the path we travel on.
2008
Deeply touched, dear Will. This song is your Psalm alone. You are not only a gifted poet, you are a great human being. Your music will never end. With my admiration and affection, always, Sandra
I think I will carry this with me forever. Love you. t x
these poems are written like the hymns of great.. i lov eit.
Doubt is comfortable. All you cowards, let´s sing and be merry.....
Will.....very apt, and wonderfully written. This collection of your thoughts is amazing, and beautifully sung. God bless you!
Supremely elegant description of the onward flow of life. We are all performers in the music of the spheres. Peace, Robert
Amazingly poignant and superbly written! One of the best poems I've ever read. Keep singing, Will... you have an amazing voice! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/13/2024 2:21:27 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Beautiful. Psalms born in the heart of God and sung by men and angels to make every sadness meaningful and every happiness appreciated. Love to you, dear Poet. Uriah