Yours is a mind hampered by query
And an outlook anxious and dire
Foreseen through aching eyes so weary.
You have conjured many a theory:
I have heard them all at some stage prior.
Yours is a conscience struggling to cope
And a heart that is suffering thus.
Once vivacious, boasting boundless hope;
Now plummeting down a foreign slope
Though you opt to paint it and not discuss.
Yours is a spirit devoid of charm
Yet you hide behind feeble defence.
Reciting one meek biblical psalm
Will not rid you of a single qualm,
And your hollow words are impotent hence.
Yours is a case which one can suppress
Though it is a weak man who ignores
That there are problems he must address.
So rescind your false act and confess,
Then conquer these meddlesome woes of yours.
Jack Growden's Other Poems
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Yours by Jack Growden )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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