Poorest Of The Poor Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Poorest Of The Poor
Bare with gnarled fingers of ancient bark covering it's
body, trying to keep out the cold.
Unlike the others dressed in holiday finery, it stands
shivering, the poorest of the poor, to all who cannot
see the joy and love of God inside it's being.
Bent upon destruction with idle words spent in gossip,
standing alone, forever banned from the lives of others.
God's glory, as yet untold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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6/1/2024 9:35:33 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Beautifully spoken the truth in this poem. idle words spent in gossip, expresses many things and does aware. Nicely composed.