The Mercy Seat Poem by john hardesty

The Mercy Seat

Rating: 5.0


The trials of one's squalor
So grim and pallor,
My anxiety followed me through the door
Filled in anguish, subdued and pardoned no more;
This scepter into the short future is terror
Like peering into past's broken mirror,
The stowaways and runaways
Run from their inner demons from Monday through Sunday;
Roughhewn, tattered and worn, my tenure,
But, God, I'm thankful for all I've endured,
Please forgive me, and find my lonely and secular grave,
Reunite my ashes, thy soul to save,
Return me to glory,
This solemn and everlasting story.

Friday, February 20, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: death
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
About entering that place we all want, Heaven!
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Edward Kofi Louis 28 January 2016

With the muse of the Mercy Saet. Thanks for sharing.

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Kelly Kurt 29 March 2015

I enjoyed your poem. Thank you for sharing.`~

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john hardesty

john hardesty

Bardstown, Kentucky
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