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A Murder of Pride

Tis that day I died;
A death to childish pride.
The truth, my adversaries’ words,
Stood alone;
An island with neighbors afar.
I argued feverishly my point,
To the point of no return.
 Nevertheless, I persisted
Until at length I stride,
Fraudulently claiming a victory,
And self-consciously declared,
“Never again this road.”
Heart free to dance with ease,
To its own beat,
Lungs blew off the troubled breeze,
And inhale with sweet relief.
Now, I’m inconsequential to my rivals,
since that day I buried my pride.
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Submitted on May 01, 2011

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Earle Francis Brown Claim this poet

I was born in Montego Bay, Jamaica. I was told that I can write, so I wrote and continues to write. I am currently living in Cincinnati, Ohio, USA. I enjoy reading "real" poetry. My favorite books are the Pslams, Proverbs and Songs of Solomon.Poetry is not just vocabulary, and use of metaphors and formats. Don't be tricked. Poetry should speak life. I love a poem that tells a story. The most memorable poems are the ones that tell someone's story. I don't care about ratings; the truth is always hated. People are people where-ever we go. more…

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