Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

Usually, I’m a placid woman, being kind;
And I give most of my troubles over to God.
But ill manners so often really do irk me
Of the careless, clumsy, awkwardness of a clod.

A heavy door slammed into my startled face
Does not make me leap and clap for wild joy.
Instead it turns me into a spiteful disgrace
Thinking of things to get even, I can employ.
 
My heart doesn’t feel better to return rudeness;
Ill tempered and quarrelsome I will not become.
I try to handle these rude situations with tact,
Not getting down to their level will I succumb.

Still it irks me to be so ill treated and lacking
Respect from people being rude without a nod.
Courtesy and being polite will not be found
In a person with the manners of such a clod 

© Copyright 2001.10.17 by Jean E. Gorney