Children Of Poetry

It is a bit like having foster parents,
you think they give a damn, because they really care.
Then comes the crunch, you look up from your pillow
and find they're busy with some other pressing matters.

It leaves a hollow feeling, why did they apply
to have new members come into the family?
To close their ears when children cry their bitter tears
and let the bogeyman come to the bedroom window.

So, Foster children must pack up and leave,
perhaps it's best to steal away in night air's silence,
all in the knowledge that they are alone in grief
and say good-bye, to be forgotten in no time.

I have two dogs at home and 8 intriguing birds,
they are our children and we feed and keep them comfy,
marauding cats or other evil gets evicted
yet other places have their own rules to obey.

So when the children have no choice but to escape
to find a world that caters well to their small needs
they hear the laughter of some others like an echo
it follows loudly like the sound of empty skulls.

And as a wise man once remarked about us humans
we have two souls inside our grossly swollen chest
the one to fear is named quite fittingly Miss Envy
there are so many with that name who stand and watch.

It is a pity what we tolerate for others
should evil fall upon thy neighbour, close the door
we know that Judgment Day is still so far away
that's why the cat has nine and we get only one.

by Herbert Nehrlich

Comments (2)

A lovely, gentle poem, Herbert. What a contrast to the rage and pain that follows in the 'comments' section.
Don't worry weirdo, it's my last one.