BALLS
I've got such balls to ask,
Why doesn't God do this or that?
The very balls He hung,
I use to flippantly combat
His cause-enormous Fatherhood,
And jibe as if I understood.
My swinging selfish pomp
Decides what's right or wrung from Him.
I drag Him off to school,
The One who clayed me at His whim,
Who sprung my skin & bone & breath,
And breathes me daily out of death.
D. Edgar Lamp
www.TheDailyPoem.org
Novel Verse Form
Sunday, November 28, 2010
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