Each day, a dawn, a page, all blank, I fill,
With worthwhile words, emerging from my heart;
And note the deeds I do to neighbors ill,
With pleasure, painstakingly on my part.
At times, my patience fails when I’m unkind;
My words can hurt and bleed the harmless most;
Misdeeds unruly targets soft can find;
I lose my mental balance and I boast.
Some days, the page remains all blank all day;
Past memories alive return and talk;
Surprises dot the page in strange a way;
My fears unknown and silent follies stalk.
Life’s pages pile into a heap so fast;
There is no time to delve upon the past.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 30-06-2015
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
life is full of hopes and works. there is no time to remember the past.