Our Fate In Our Hands

Our Fate In Our Hands short poem

Photo by ~Brenda-Starr~

Born in the filth and dirt,
mocked and jeered everywhere,
shouted and screamed at always,
with the vision of people coming home
with bloody hands and a gun in pocket,
ever said to be born with a fate
like that, among criminals and
demons, living a life in hell.
Never could he break the barrier
of the fate for which he was
looked upon as evil.
None like him had ever led any
better life,
yet he tried and tried,
through the biggest difficulties
and the greatest hues.
One sudden day be succeeded,
his heart leaped in joy,
and he ran far way from his
fateful jail.
He dedicated his life to serve
mankind, giving all he could
to help the needy and pay
for the sins of his own family.
He spent his life serving the
needy, when one day
eventually he was worshipped
by thousands.
The boy from darkest grounds
of evil became a saint,
being closest to the home of God
and thus he wrote his own fate.
No matter how much hopeless we are
or how much pain and difficulties
is in our way , if we try and try,
one day we will create our own
path to reach our goal,
because we write our own destiny
and decide our own fate.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (2 votes, average: 4.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

2 Comments on "Our Fate In Our Hands"

Notify of
avatar
Sort by:   newest | oldest
Nikita Mehendiratta
Member

I like the thought.

Shamala Chandran
Member

Very inspiring thoughts here….great write!

wpDiscuz

Hands Of Enemy

Hands Of Enemy short poem

With frugal memory you wanted to tame the radical spine, while fright was bending the thighs. Was it a travesty of the graduated thumb? The speed of the river had accelerated in aching land. People gathered to collect the alms

Hands Outstretched

Hands Outstretched short poem

With hands outstretched And headed my way Sad eyes looked at me As if to say Please can you spare a dime or two His feet are bare, not even a shoe! Sparing him some coins to Help fix broken

The City At Our Doorstep

The City At Our Doorstep short poem

It’s those sultry days that sooth my soul, In the searing heat, empty like after birth we would bath, Fear of appearing odd, the taste of the sweet waters, Oblivious of each other’s different destiny, Our foggy minds leading the

Our Time

Our Time short poem

As I reminisce un past songs It brings back the memories The times of laughter And youth Hoping to remember more good days The songs replay in my mind As I search for our memories From our time of youth

Our Last Walk

Our Last Walk long poem

I dreamt last night that you were with me and we walked along that path leading to the river and the ferry across. (do you remember the ferry?) It was summer, or so it seemed, and the air was heavy