Beasts are we, who think and dream,
Reason, plot, plan and scheme.
Goals man-made pursued with zeal,
Coveting what isn’t real.

Fleeting, phantom, blissful state
Striving, reaching, at what rate?
Midnight mania, nothing won,
Life’s work is never done.

Recall those joyous, early days
Enthralled, lost, in wondrous ways.
Victor’s spoils become reviled
Letting go the inside child.

Engaging in life’s war,
Becoming Mammon’s whore,
Smirking at obedient chattel
Wrestling through each day, each battle.

Meek shall rise when mighty fall,
The shepherd spoke, as we recall.
Last is first and first is last,
Strife and loss are put to past
So child is king and serfs are we,
Who search and seek, yet never see.

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Replies to This Discussion

Hi Alison,

I just had to write to let you know that your poem Beasts Are We was very enjoyable.

I liked it very much. In fact I did enjoy reading your other poems on the sight, but this one was my particular favourite.

Regards
Lucy Allen
Dear Lucy,

Thank you for your kind words!

Hwyl,

Alison
A fantastic rhythm to this piece. Each stanza stands beautifully alone, and combine to make a powerful statement. Much enjoyed.

blessings,
Jolen
Jolen,

Thank you - wow! you've made my day with your lovely comments!

Diolch!

Alison
Yr wyf yn cytuno gyda phawb,wyt yn yn ysgrifennu yn wych.
Mae dy eiriau yn rhoid golau clir iawn ar ein bywydau dwl ni.

Diolch i ti
Gwyndaf

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