Far from the cacophony of the crowd,
I find serenity.
Where the soft wind blows and the pines do sing,
My God comes close to me.
I need not the voices of my fellow man
to hear the symphony.
The murmuring brook and the rustling leaves: These sing His hymn to me.
Many men have been given the talent
To paint what they do see,
But none can capture the many beauties
Given to us by Thee.
When I am in need of a brief respite
From our society,
I enter into Your Cathedral
And sit beneath a tree.
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>female redditor detected
Wrong on both accounts, actually. How is the poem itself?
Be honest: your a woman, right?
pretty trite. write less poetry and read more poetry
If serious, not very good.
Thank you. Anything specific, or is it just too generic?
I like it, but I'm a pleb
>Far from the cacophony of the crowd,
>I find serenity.
Dropped.
It reads like you're a 17 year old who just 'found God' to dissociate yourself from pleb 'normies'