Inspirations Unlimited

I wrote this poem for a man who was struggling through these hard financial times trying to provide for his family. I send him blessings and blessings to all who are like him.


Inspirations Unlimited


No one can limit me.

poverty will not take me.

I will not be cut down

like scented blades of grass in July

that lay down below feet chopped up.

I've seen the hunched over backs of the world's poor

hope torn from them

eyes sallow and hands that tremble

like nervous twitching rabbits in low green grass

slit off from their youth

and thrown to the side

bagged up for the rich man's spoil.

The drums will pound someday

and the rain will pour down

in raw justice for the meek.

I am sustaintive and liberated.

I will grow tall like the Elm

in a sacred forest reaching for blue skies

and find the sunshine.

The angels and eagles

that flew over the dead bloody ground

where the infantry marched.

The spirits that watched over and the bees that flew

dancing from flower to flower

still foraged from petal to petal pink to yellow.

My words will live on.

They cannot be limited

not my thoughts or my song,

not my anger or my love.

They will be remembered.

My good deads are not erased

by those who choose gossip over truth.

I will not faulter

under the power struggles.

The flocks that once were

The queens of the grasslands

will return to the wetlands and meadows

the ones men and wine destroyed

men who plundered down the trees for cash and the home of the lark.

here I speak of the powers of goodwill

of the wind and the waves

and truth and sunshine

and of inspirations unlimited.


By Joanne Kathleen Farrell

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