T. Michael Francis Poems

Best Poem of T. Michael Francis

Cries Of The Innocent Ones
How many cries must we hear,
On innocent ones torn from their wombs so dear;
Of limbs ripped apart by the evil of man,
And thrown down into a dirty trash can?
Even the hardest of hearts you would feel,
Would feel remorse for its murderous zeal.
Yet thousands and thousands die each day,
. . .
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When The Harvest Comes
Some people work in a factory called a sweat shop,
They work from sunrise till after dark, and don't stop.
The blind man lives by himself in a room,
He cannot see, so each day is filled with gloom.
A crippled man begs for food from his wheelchair,
He often thinks that life is very unfair.
A homeless . . .
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