fair
Learn more about other poetry terms
Once upon a time, in a town far away,
You know how the story goes;
There lived a young girl with ebony black hair,
Snow white skin, and lips red as the rose;
Forget the blood lines that make our trees bright red
Forget the colors that highlight our lively skin
Brothers, sister, mothers and fathers
We are all something bigger, better and stronger
Yet…
Inside of the seeing ball,
I see nothing at all.
Not a future,
not a past,
I can not see past all this foggy stuff, God blast!
Then the smoke clears,
and a hideous face appears,
Candy is delightful, destructive, including soothing.
I relish Reese because,
I endure the peanut butter that is cradled in the chocolate.
It accumulates mass, however its great to lounge with.
For this committment
For this forever.
I am not invested
Like you always
Have been. I
Let
You love me, adore
Me. But that wasn't
Fair. Because I will
Colorful cotton candy is grasped firmly in children’s hands.
And their parents watch as they go ‘round and ‘round.
Some may never have the chance to see these fun-filled lands
exactly how fair does it seem
to be put in this world with hopes and dreams
to use every day gaining possessions
telling lies, truths, and confessions
finding some miraculous things
I went to the fair
Hoping to make a find.
Then I spotted a stand.
It was one of a kind.
All kinds of good pies
Were setting right there.
Could I choose from them all?
I've been to the Fair
Cotton candy and sad animals
Racing Pigs and the milk shake lady
Is it fair?
Certainly not for the pigs or sheep
Certainly not for the guinea pigs
Paper holds no prejudice,
unlike an opionionated conversation,
paper can make readers colorblind,
it can recieve little abdication.
Writing can make a poor man esteemed,
Warrior or priest
The bravest or a coward
Doctor and druggie
All fit in a puzzle
And all are given a part
For if we are but players,
Is this not just a game?
A game filled with uncertainty
(poems go here) Crouched alone in a corner of her room,
Two great white eyes strained to see in the dark.
But in a cloud of greyness, what could ever bloom?
Still she sat, for her will would not start.
Neon lights at dusk. Spinning silhouettes in the dirt, a cigarette butt on rusted paint. The tribal fringe and fireworks. The smells of hay and grease.
Is it fair
to comply
to the bad use of the law?
Is it fair
to uphold
that which should not be believed?
Is it fair
to find demise
as a consequence of people's ignorance?
