Moving Onward Poem by Amanda May Moore
Moving Onward
August aspirations.
gone.
lifeless.
unseasoned and tasteless.
dead to me, fallen and
perished are the
failed attempts
catching fire;
failed efforts
to find a deep desire.
a whole month of
misery, spent.
spent in wasteful worries
and foolish follies.
I was dead. dead for awhile,
lost with out doubt
searching for God...
I pray for September
to turn things about.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 8:47:59 AM # 1.0.0.1119
