Jan.
30, 1973
Poetry
by Michael F. Nyiri
Tripoem
I "I'm a wandrin' tired soul," He would say Locking up his possessions for today And if the sun is wrong he'll run away No matter how we are, He'll never stay He watches countless roads, He will tell He'll close us in our deep imprison'd hell We are deaf while he will hear the bell Yet no matter how we try, We won't climb down his well II Summer is goodbye No matter how hard we try We cannot wonder why... Love is a ragged letter And ink-stained message of hope He's a wandering soul Because he cannot help it III We spurn that which we do not Understand And though he may be A nuisance to others To some he was a hero- To some he was even God himself.
copyright 1999-2005 by Michael F. Nyiri
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