Poem (for man)

A Life Of Toil (for man)

By Peter Woodgate

Is there such a thing as freedom?

For Man

and has there ever been

since time began?

For we are all held, prisoners

by the clocks we build

that track our forced progression

on this earth, that’s filled

With mankind’s coerced labour

on each orbit around the sun

and, according to the experts

this has only just begun.

The adamantine fate

bestowed on every man,

ticks endlessly around the face

that illuminates this span.

It measures what has gone before

and what is yet to come,

for most, it will appear too brief

yet shorter still for some.

Even then within these terms

We have our daily tasks,

this drudgery when will it end

One asks.

I spoke to Him the other day

discussing details of this strife,

Amazingly, He sympathised,

then blamed it on my Wife.      

© Copyright Peter Woodgate