I wrote this poem in response to a recent conversation I had with a couple of friends. Actually, the conversation isn't so recent, thinking about it. But it has been replaying in my head ever since I had it. It is becoming increasingly more difficult in this world to simply be a good man. Most people are suspicious and wonder what ulterior motive one might have. How quickly we have forgotten it is good people who helped shape the world we live in. How quickly we have forgotten how to be essentially good ourselves.
ANOTHER GOOD MAN DOWN
He is one of those artistic types
You know, the type to lend
Dreams to children
Words to songs
Colour to paintings
Passion to romance
And wonder to the world
The type who made it
What it is today
Be that as it may
He really doesn’t do much good
He is one of the those optimistic types
You know, the type who lend
Courage to conviction
Peace to the populace
Light to darkness
Meaning to life
And energy to the world
The type who made it
The place it is today
Be that as it may
He really doesn’t do that much
He is one of those sympathetic types
You know, the type to lend
Aid to the infirm
Pleasure to sadness
Water to the drought
Food to the starving
Company to the lonely
And tears to those who can’t cry
The type who made it
The home it is today
Be that as it may
He really doesn’t do that much
I think he has lost his touch
Or maybe we’ve just stop believing in him