My Poetry. Promises.

How many times do we hear that Phrase?
Which can sound so false and empty of grace,
Promises kept in this uncertain age,
With Hatred, fighting, and feelings of rage,
Forgetting to love, embracing the time,
When man, woman, child, fear the sublime,
I wonder when someone will tell this old tale?
When chivalry was meaningful, not for sale,
Protection of others, no fear for their life
a World of freedom from animosity and strife
The future of happiness, promises of love,
Try Lending a hand, love the man "above",
Show your emotions learn to forgive,
Even your enemies you don’t want to live,
Spare a thought for the dying and lame,
Don’t let humanity. Die of its shame,
Promise to think loudly,  and clear,
those around you may not always be near.

I promise you? will you promise me?
The word is branded around and used without ever
thinking of the implications.  

© William Sinclair Manson 2025