The Willow Tree

The Willow tree with it's drooping
eyes filled with tears,
for centuries enslaved by the
master's will.

For tall it stood in a stately fashion,
a giant shadow it cast,
with it's magnificent foliage covering
those who walked down it's path.

Under it's protective canopy
were colorful umbrellas,
lavish dresses and songs sung
by slaves, I am my master's fellow.

In the nearby fields, there were no Willow
trees. The scorching sun burned their skin.
There is no route of escape for
those slaves who wanted to leave.

Now, the master is gone, the slaves were set free.
The roads to freedom were filled with joy
and the sun was blocked by Willow trees.

Poetic Verses
by Gamaliel H. Gooding
Copyrighted 2009

The Many And The Few

Dreary days and
endless nights, tormented
by man made dreams
and endless schemes.

Smoky clubs on
Sunset Boulevard, needle
infested alleyways,
and little girls that pimps craves.

I long to rid myself of this self
imposed prison of degradation
of suffering and needless pain.
If there is no effort there is no gain.

I have discovered that my
many friends are few.
The many used me to no end.
The few helped me to begin again.

Poetic Verses
By Gamaliel H. Gooding
Copyrighted 2009