17 Apr

by L. Stewart Marsden

To the ends of the earth we do go, Pogo
Justifying the day of our birth, Pogo
And we shout in the wind at the top of our voice,
But there’s no one with answers of worth, Pogo.

Along with the wisest of sages, Pogo
We have searched throughout all of the ages, Pogo
And despite all our trials we’re no closer to truth
As we leaf through the myriad of pages, Pogo.

And as Solomon finally lamented, Pogo
All wisdom appears just pretended, Pogo
And the gurus and seers with gerrymandering answers,
Are farther away than intended, Pogo.

Then to you, simple chap, have we turned, Pogo
For the wisdom that ages have yearned, Pogo
In your simple folk guise you’ve astounded us all
With your quick ableness to discern, Pogo.

“We have met the enemy, and he is us.” — Pogo

Day 17 of The National Poetry Month challenge to write a poem a day for 30 days.


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