After tears and things depressing,
give me turkey, peas, and lots of dressing.
Pile high the cornbread with lots of butter,
till my belly's full and my heart does flutter.
(April 19,2014)
It doesn't matter how you feel, there's always comfort in a meal. It it is what we do like then it is added delight. If it is just to sustain, nothing ventured, nothing gained, and yet a stomach a little taut knows its sated as a great retort and sucour is its true reward.
That's the beauty of God you are doubtful about, He has made a system and laws, physical and biological, man suffers by one hand and avenged by the other.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice one bri c