-by Keith Schied


Vision of a Man

With puppet strings in hand

Playing with us all

Cannot be seen with ordinary sight

Some sense his presence and put up a fight

Some set free to pursue their plight

Others are dragged and set in his path

Many are damaged and suffer his wrath

Pulled up by him

And devoid of all breath

Some call it passing, he calls it death

He sets you aside to learn of your past

And back down you go

With fresh strings at last

New ideas of wrong and right

Your stubborn old soul still puts up a fight

Eventually, you know of the ends of your strings

The man in which holds you

And the lessons he brings

Times will change and when soil is grown

You’ll have a puppet

A puppet of your own.

Poetry Table Of Contents        Keith Schied Archives