Download - Survivors Poetry

That Same Man AgainThat same man again,He just can’t see,The trouble that’s far from new;As any trouble that seeks,To find its gain,Is a trouble that sticks like glue.So if you think you see,A monkey on parade,Or a cause for no concern, Then think again;For it could so easily be you.Michael MeaderThe GameIt’s a good game you’re all playingYou’re all going to get what you wantNo matter what I doThe problem is, I’m not a participantI am the gamePlay well for you can never loseThe game is not with meIt is meIt must be good to playKnowing you will always windon’t worryMe . . . my life . . . it is the gameI congratulate you allIt’s a game everyoneSeems to know and play so wellI await you or their next turnThe next throw of the diceTo see what it may bring for me nextA game like any otherWinners and losersThey must be mindful of this gameAs with all games it will endBut there are always other gamesNow before and in the futureSome play and don’t even know itBut the dice is thrown none the lessSome know and enjoyI live in the knowledgeLife is no gameThose that treat it like oneI have no time forBut the players are always thereEverywhere you goSo play the gamePlay it wellBut hope that you will always be a playerAnd not the game itselfLike me, like usThe gameJohn HarrisonTears of LoveWhen a woman of beautyHas a beautiful dreamsShe lives all her lifeBut never it seemsTo see the volition in her heartI know only too wellHer sacrificial PartTo hide all her tearsAnd her broken heartTo submit those dreamsFor another partJust to help othersHer love so strongSo when you see meShed a tearIt’s only becauseI want her nearBut where love is braveI play the same PartI keep on smilingWith my broken heartI’d rather play loveThan those broken warsThen one dayYou will seeYou really are happyJust like meBecause we never gave upAnd now we are free.April (Fynn) StuartOne Last FlowerOne last flowerin the garden.One last spluttering song of summer.One last linger.On another year passing.Looking at you.Can I brood or move on?Rebirth or silence.Pretty as flowers are.They’re only petals, roots and earth.12