Poetry Compilation XVII: Before The Fall

Poem 1: Heart Full Of Pride

Rest now, my precious kin.
Sleep, so your reign may begin:
Some day, you’ll stand as King
of the grand Savannah.

Fear not the blazing sun,
nor the shadows of the night,
for your light shall color
the hearts of all as one.

Bless the rains by your grace,
and take your rightful place.
Cast your love upon the righteous,
and banish the greedy hyenas.

Rest proud, my royal cub,
for you’re worthy of the crown:
you’re the rock of my life,
the glory of our pride.

Poem 2: Cake or Pie?

Imagine you’re at a party.
There’s a table of dessert trays,
each with a wide selection
of cakes, pies, and desserts.

One by one, guests come with plates,
choosing what they want to take.
Some just think that cake is fine,
and see no need to go for pie.

Others think that pies are great
and pass aside the frosted cakes,
as they care not for such a thing,
instead preferring blueberries.

Others still won’t be so choosy,
not when many things look tasty.
Why choose one or the other
when all desserts have much to offer?

A few may see this line of trays,
and think ‘oh thanks, but none for me’.
Perhaps they’re keeping on a diet,
or perhaps they don’t like sweets.

All in all, the guests are happy…
until someone spoils the party,
and flips the table and the trays,
ranting that they hate the cakes.

Don’t want it? Just leave it be.
You may not like that flavor,
but let the people eat their treats.
Don’t ruin the party.

Poem 3: dysphoria

i am me… right?
this is my body?
then tell me… why
does it feel wrong?

why do I feel as
if I don’t belong?

this me i see…
that man is me?
this can’t be my

i know a man is
what I am, but… no.

this cannot be.
that can’t be all
there is to me.
it can’t be… right?

Poem 4: Hard Day’s Work

Working ceaselessly,
a humble carpenter saws
stacks of spruce-wood planks,
the first stage of a greater

Tirelessly he
beats metal against metal,
steady hammering
driving nails into the side
of a bare-bones frame.

Though for now it stands
as a naked skeleton,
it shall be some day
become a mighty fine home,
worthy of a king.

One day at a time,
each plank a piece of something
greater than oneself.
The craftsman knows no greater
peace than when his work’s complete.

Poem 5: The Deadliest Sin

Which of the seven sins is the deadliest?
Is it the bottomless abyss of Gluttony?
The tight and torturous grip of Envy?
Perhaps the boundless excess of Greed,
or the incessant fires of Wrath?
What about Sloth, the endless freeze,
and Lust, the maze of desire?

No, it’s none of these, I reply:
The deadliest of the sins is Pride.
On its own, it does no harm;
actually, it can be quite healthy.
The problem, unfortunately,
is that it works in silence to disarm
your natural defenses.

It blinds you to the pool’s true depth,
and makes you feel all comfy-cozy.
You’ll think you know when it’s enough,
but by then, you’re already boiling.
Instead of running, you stay resting,
because surely leaving won’t be so tough…
and that’s what makes the sin so deadly.