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You are Here: Home > Love Poems > Love and Friendship > Prest breast

Prest breast
by Harriet Oliver
The oppressed are oft most pressed
by the rich living in opulence fine,
tragically having nobler character abreast
of tho hight&mighty thinking they're better than thine.

The ways of the world are not alway clear
ignoring many a phoenix out of dust risen,
not bothering to heed or notice silent tear
of those innocent condemned confined to prison.

Wonting of wanting, oh, woe is me,
in existence and persistence dulling the thrill,
of paranoia & anxiety both posed fearfully
would it be worrying unnecessarily, psychically still.

Would it be the well intentioned could do most harms
as untruths are adhered to as though in a trance,
and love's forever evading open arms
ignoring in ignorance thoughtful countenace.

Is it strange how the strong surpass the mild
and night always ends a day once bright
and that maturing still nurtures inner child
when in sleep there's no awareness nor need for light

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