I WRITE OF SORRY TRUTHS

by

Ronald G. Auguste

I do not write, often enough, of roses,
Or rainbows, or enchanting Autumn leaves;
For, when I search my mind, my mind discloses
Mainly the sorrows of a soul that grieves.

Not long ago, my soul rose in the morning,
And sang some songs of joy toward the sun;
Throughout the day, its flowers bloomed, adorning
Divergent paths, until the day was done.

I wish this poem only came of charming,
And joyful things -- God wishes that were so!
But one sad day, some drinks, and laws, disarming,
Brought pain -- great loss! -- leaving a lasting woe.

Before that time, all of the folks who know me,
Will vouch that crime was always cause for grief;
My thoughts were deep -- so deep! -- no one could show me,
That there was ever cause to bless a thief.

I thought -- still do! -- our laws don't punish killers,
Or even curb the ones who rape and maim;
Those laws, so broad, replete with mindless fillers,
Can barely bruise, so thugs remain the same.

The drunken slob, who took him, who was golden --
My son, a rising sun, so full of light!
Was simply charmed by laws meant to embolden:
Probation for a year -- a sorry plight!

Should things remain that way, we shall be sorry!
So sorry, friends, but it will be too late!
Our mindless actions raise most crimes to glory --
Soon, there'll be Huns, each armed, at every gate.

I do not write, much, nowadays, of beauty,
Or love, or hopes -- the grandeur of the soul.
I write of sorry truths -- that's now a duty!
I pray, and hope, those truths will make us whole.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Love of a lifetime
by: Joyce Hemsley
from: Sunderland, England, UK

To visit all of Ronald G. Auguste's poems, click HERE

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