My Language
I talk a language
Carved from stone,
Which sailed the seven seas,
Kept warm with nothing more than wood
And built monuments with knowledgeI speak a rich, diverse mix
Salty, sweet and burned,
Great for telling stories around the fire
And singing songs in Sunday's church.I hear a language
With an expensive history,
Wars between lead and arrows
And rivers filled with blood of the enemyI listen to a dying moan
Of a supressed language
Trying to claw its way free
From the shackles its been tied to.I live with an innocent being
Running through my veins
Playing the cords of my vocals
Making me unique in this world of copies.I have a language
Unique, rich and intelligent
Evolved to be fast and different
But which is slowly dying...© Franklin J. Stadler
YOU ARE READING
Thorns of Life
PoetryVOLUME 1 If time could turn back in clocks Maybe then I'd free you from those locks If time travel were possible To the past, for you I would go I would save you from yourself Give you some helpful advice I wish I could do things differently, Maybe...