Man Made Gods
Let the blade of your hoe
Sink deep into the soil
But I’m only a child, I said.
No man ever reap a bountiful harvest
Who never till the earth deeper
Than the gods buried their ornaments
Father said to me.
Ornament, I thought aloud
How can that be; when I was told the gods
Are spirits who neither sleep nor dream
How is it that they dress with ornaments like ordinary men?
The gods maybe a creation of our imaginations
Will you stop dreaming and go back to work?
The voice of my father dragged me back to the labour at hand
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Man Made Gods by Matthias Pantaleon )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- Without Purpose Or Reason Affixed, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- The Baobab Tree, I Am Krakatoa
- Game of chance, Aftab Alam
- 'Tween Love and Hatred,, Aftab Alam
- Life alright, hasmukh amathalal
- A Child Is Like A Flowering Rose, Joseph T. Renaldi
- Only one...1, hasmukh amathalal
- Caring For A Lonely Heart, Joseph T. Renaldi
- Play Any Tune, Neela Nath
- It Was the Best Day, Sandra Feldman