Blame It…

I have been sitting on this poem and waiting for a few spare moments in which to publish this post. Here in ireland we finally got weather fitting of a summer for real, thus temperatures are high (for us Irish anyways).

Todays poem is as the title states “Blame it..” We have a habit to offer excuses for pretty much anything. Especially in a so termed “Democratic society” Our elected leaders often allow themselves to be viewed as untouchable and beyond blame. Thus they also have a habit of offering excuses and rather than taking blame when blame is justified upon them, then instead blame it on whatever fits.

From all angles we have this kind of life line to extend blame anywhere rather than on themselves. Also we as people are guilty of this and are quick to offer up blame to whatever works rather than take that blame when it is correct to do so.

This is pretty much where todays poem takes center stage and bringing out to ALL, with an almost sarcastic tone.. Blame it on (enter your own word here). Rather than Blame it on Me… Thus in a way offering up a point for thought, Is it correct to send blame to any other place or thing rather than accepting it ourselves.

Having said all of this Please Enjoy this Poem :

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_{((The above photograph was uploaded from Pixel.com Thus Copyrite belongs to those with whom copyrite exists to and posted with thanks here for use with this poem.))}

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Blame It ..



Walking on water waiting on the son,
Ne’er a spider weaves a web just for fun.
Blame it on sunshine,  blame it on the wine,
Clouds part not for rain, but some things divine.


Blame it on the weather, not as it seems,
Count on mysteries to keep all in dreams.
Bribe the bard and hide his tale from your sight,
A knight yet battles hard when not his fight.


Blame it on man who remains yet unknown,
Blame it on others or thus your own clone.
Shifting sands delight a tongue still unsung,
Stand amongst the thistles lost arts got stung.


Blame it on truth leaving in light to fight,
Blame it on the news telling what was white.
Dozens delight on hidden flight what’s left?
Oxygen levels depleted, that’s theft.


Blame it on yourself yet ne’er has been done,
Leaderships delight on what was then spun.
Play the game of preachers shame, hell, fire, gone,
A mangled mess of excused lessons drawn.



 © Pat Fitzgerald 2023

 

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Thank you for taking some time to read through this post. My journey through writing and publishing it on this blog is a journey beyond any expectations. So my thanks for joining me on this journey.

Alas at times my publishing a post here may be limited with time due to outside situations like this past few weeks. But nothing major so I am working on putting as much as I can on blog and thus learning more as I move along.

Poetry for me is a constant learning curve that I constantly strive to improve. Often due to the speed of my typing and a few other issues mistakes and typos will find their way into published posts. I strive to work on improving this as I move along. My thanks for your understanding of this.

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Until Next Time Cheers.

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