Yield Not To Temptation!

yield not to temptation

Our capacity for love will flee the human spirit,
if instead we shelter hate inside a heartless billet.

Hate will fester in our soul and corruption soon will follow.
The results are what we see, a deluge of human sorrow.

From every human heart, love should flow in perfect rhyme.
What is past should not return, but it does so every time.

The breath of love should whisper softly and become a gentle breeze.
As we peer inside the forest ; we only see the trees.

No light touch doth we feel, and not a hint of love’s sweet scent.
For love we have not earned, not one dime on love was spent.

With hardened hearts, we turn and toss hate into the wind.
It spreads its wings as it takes flight to steer us towards our end.

Crossing oceans, climbing mountains and plunging into valleys,
hate slithers on the ground and crouches in dark alleys,

An all-encompassing plague that will consume the human race
if we yield to hate’s temptation and forego love’s sweet embrace.

Written by,

Shelby I. Courtland
©2013 Shelby I. Courtland

Throwing In The Towel

fist

I am tired and I am shattered and before in tears I drown,
I shall put away my pen, as I exit with a frown.

I wish to thank you very much for stopping by and all,
I shall not listen to the cries; nor will I heed the writer’s call.

I’ve struggled with my faith and the battle has been lost.
I’ll settle in with winter and await the first cold frost.

I am bitter and I am angry and I have such great contempt
for those who hate the ones who are homeless and unkempt.

I have tried in every way to not concede the fight,
but the price is just too high; there are none to see the light.

I’m pummeled here and pummeled there and though the cause is just,
there are way too many issues and another one bites the dust.

Written by,

Shelby I. Courtland
© 2013 Shelby I. Courtland

Many times, those of us who care so very much for others feel as though our very spirit is being pulled from us. Even though we may be perceived as strong, we do have our weak moments. We ALL do. The point of the above poem relates to the struggle within myself. It is the struggle of those who have compassion, empathy, concern and sensitivity for the so-called underdogs of our society, those who are the left behinds, the forgotten. My struggle is so overwhelming because I walk the mean streets and I look and I listen and what I see and hear just breaks my heart! I see the ignorance. I see the cruelty. I hear the moans. I hear the pleading voices, begging for help. And I can do so little. The leaders of this country need to take a walk with me. But the question is,”Would it do any good?”

…and no, I am not conceding the fight. I am just conceding that  sometimes the force that is what makes me, me just has to push back, has to acknowledge that I am but one person and there will be times when I will falter and want to surrender, give in to hopelessness and so it helps to write about this frustration and that is where this poem came from.

After faltering, the battle for peace resumes!

If there is no struggle, there is no progress. Frederick Douglass