Mahatma
Form: Epistle Sonnet 6
Divine spirit in a frail human form
A King of men with the wisdom of saints
To hear his words many followers swarm
A simple life lived with a heart so warm
The dreams of peace with simple words he paints
As he won his wars without bomb or gun
Stormed by emotions and awakened souls
Speaking for peace, without sabre or sword
Sanctions of trade in steps moving forward
Break the rules for the rebellion goals
Dismantle the empire from far abroad
While calling for change at government polls
A thin old man always a gentleman
Gandhi, almost sacred beneath the sun
©JezzieG2023
excellent poem Jez! ❤
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