The moral vine
It’s great to have morals…
And, lord them like laurels.
How few of us have them—
In truth we acquire them.
Honestly, from time to time
These slack, smiles, only mime
“What loosely, they can’t hide”.
Why—scorn is naked ‘poolside’.
And, I’m thankful for that…
I could rhyme – inappropriately.
But what would be the point of that—
Such lowly ethics would be smutty.
“We plant each seed expectant!
Believing, it’ll grow straight”.
But every vine must climb, climb
(Twisted-height’s in the meantime) …
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Comments about this poem (The moral vine by Mark Heathcote )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
James Whitcomb Riley
(7 October 1849 - 22 July 1916)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(1608 - 1650)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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