4/28/11
Is patience truly virtuous,
As, through the ages, many claim,
Or does time simply torture us,
In measured days as we maintain?
I find no value comes to me,
Nor resolution as I wait,
And like some virulent disease,
This virtue self-perpetuates.
Written by: Larry Sansone. In order to hone my writing skills (and for my own silly amusement) I am launching the O.C.P. Project: one poem per day for one year. I started the project on Jan.1, 2011 and completed the last poem on Jan. 1, 2012. Poems will be posted daily, whenever possible.
4/27/11
A fool shall never know himself,
And therefore never once concede,
His weaknesses to someone else,
Nor offer up apology.
Thus, we should nary waste a thought,
On words to sculpt and shape his mind,
A stone, by chisel, may be wrought,
But fool's conceit won't be refined.
Shortsightedness is his defense,
Obtuseness, nursemaid to his flaws.
No argument shall gain against,
A mind sworn to internal laws.
So, hearken not this happy man,
Who lives in self-deluded grace,
Proud of the dark in which he stands,
And strangled by his own embrace.
A fool shall never know himself,
And therefore never once concede,
His weaknesses to someone else,
Nor offer up apology.
Thus, we should nary waste a thought,
On words to sculpt and shape his mind,
A stone, by chisel, may be wrought,
But fool's conceit won't be refined.
Shortsightedness is his defense,
Obtuseness, nursemaid to his flaws.
No argument shall gain against,
A mind sworn to internal laws.
So, hearken not this happy man,
Who lives in self-deluded grace,
Proud of the dark in which he stands,
And strangled by his own embrace.
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