The Cullman Times
Senior Cold Springs High School
Words escape me in these times
Have no thoughts for notes or rhymes
And shall not have to till the seed
Of blackened hearts inept with greed.
Or hear the wicked tales of crimes
Or things the poor have done for dimes
No, not within my solitude
Can I think of words for rhymes.
Perhaps, if I could clear my mind
And have no species, type, or kind
I could clearly see what seems
To be a race immersed in dreams.
The human man (a lovely thing)
Knows not the damage he could bring
His times of good that have been shown
Cannot change what’s set in stone.
He bows to none, and since his birth
Has harmed his mother, her lady Earth.
But before his time is done,
Lady Earth shall ask her son.
“My child, why hast thou hurt me so?
And filled my space with hate and woe?”
To this, our kind shall not reply
Therefore our mother has us die.
She’ll flood us with a mother’s tears
That wash away our hateful years.
And bring about an Earth anew
Witnessed by those precious few.
O’ what a man like I would give
To say, “I lived,” and not, “I live”
Beyond my death and noise of time
I pray that there I’ll made a rhyme.