The Poem About King Would Not Come
I tried to write a poem about King.
The words would not come.
I tried to write what he would say
were he to see us today.
I tried to write about the sorrow
that would fill his eyes.
I tried to write about the disappointment
that he would feel.
I tried to write about a dream
that we pretend to honor.
But the words would not come.
The lines escaped me.
He was no saint
He was a man.
He had his faults.
He was not God.
But his dream made him great.
Our betrayal of it makes us small.
- McMongrel's blog
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Sad...
Indeed it is sad how those who claim to be the caretakers of his dream have turned his ideas into political opportunities. I was horrified to see his widow's funeral turned into a soapbox derby. I enjoy this especially on a day like this when we honor him, to give a different perspective than what would be expected. I know we are far from his dream, when I was dating, I would notice the double standard for it was alright for African American men to date white women, but not white men to date African American women. The ones who gave me the cruelest looks of disgust were the African American men. We still have a very long ways to go.
Saints come marching home...
oldaspirationsneverdie...7
I enjoyed your poem and enjoyed your words of wisdom and
the truth that you have captivated in the lines of this poem!
I am one who believes, or needs to believe in the surreal!
It's just something in me, and I believe that Dr. King is
someone divine, and such a passionate giver and should
always be held in the highest esteem...as your poem clearly
indicates in your last two lines: "But his dream made him
great. Our betrayal of it makes us small."! Bless you....