There is a fullness brewed from thinking, <br />That denies our banal play; <br />From this broth we should be drinking <br />Oft, along our thirsting way. <br />------------ <br />My serenity is not disturbed, <br />By keeping up with Jones; <br />Who trades his car, just every year <br />And owes for most he owns. <br />------------- <br />Quite often on life's crowded way, <br />I let the rumbling herds pass by; <br />With slackened gait I search the sky, <br />To find the role that I must play, <br />'Ere curtains fall and death holds sway. <br />------------ <br />He writes so pure, so true and sure <br />And does it with so little fuss. <br />I only know him from the way <br />He signs his name-A. Nony Mous. <br />------------- <br />Dear Lord, when will I ever reach <br />The pinnacle from which I preach?<br /><br />Joseph Anderson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/brief-thoughts-poetically/
