Question:
Rate my poem! Beginner?
Poverty's poet
My stare is without solace
passion and joy have wane
My eye's now fail to weep
deaf ear's hear my cries
insatiable famishment waits for me
my anger is without desire
upon what pillowy cloud shall I rest?
for the harbinger is near to me
bitter is the morsel of my imminent fate
will you embolden me to fight on?
where are the spoils of your riches?
alone with selfish excess shall you pass
my soul now shivers and trembles
for poverty has claimed it shield.
Best Answer - Chosen by Asker:
Love it! Great job, "beginner" You don't sound like one to me.