Tate Morgan > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

He practiced disdain for mankind. Never giving himself to another. Closed away his heart and mind.

The desperate cries of anguish From a heart that knows no joy Feeds long upon its own regret Tossing the soul as if a toy

It isn't how fast you can run.

My very first poem Written at the age of 47

Her face is like the rising sun.

Proverbs 11:29 , "He that troubleth his own house shall inherit the wind".

The wind plays loves refrain.

What need have I for coins of Gold

Only when we hope in love defined. Do we bother search for our humanity.

Passing for gold in a little boy's heart, are the looks his father pays.