This is how we must respond – in verse, in rhyme
When what we knew of life is robbed of time.
Those of us – whose plaster’s black on white
Let grief’s place quick be took by what we write,
And death’s dark shadow lighten up just slight.
The lowly page does catch these tears of mine;
I would this inky charge in duty, might
To heaven’s twisted gate sore loss alight.
Trust – I’d ne’er seek to cheapen pain in art
Most poor. Know the solemn ‘tentions of my heart;
Time stole, I will not think myself allowed
To more, on needless thoughts; I’m not so proud.
A crumpled page does represent this state.
To spread anew, on poesy I must wait.
Some place, joined with the stores of sun and snow,
Who tread the fragrant earth scarce long ago,
There comes a man. Ne’er was such tragic plot as this,
An autocratic theft to reminisce.
‘Tis fine! ‘Tis sweet to dwell on bygone days.
Yet one is wont to ponder; now, who pays?
Who Time becomes, whose own Self must be flung
Down cellar steps like rotten fish. I’m stung.
All bitterness — in bitter weeks enough.
Return to him whose tired soul ‘scaped the rough —
(I wonder how his hands did feel to hold.)
If I can mourn, how sharp your pain, how cold,
In those shared hearts. His days remain thereof,
‘Twere void of much, but ne’er did want for love.
good morning everyone. here I must first apologise for the lack of posts recently, after the Little Mermaid poem I found myself very busy with university work and my job. I am glad to have been able to publish a few pieces with Free Verse Revolution which I have reblogged for you all to read.
I am at a bit of a crux writing wise. I am finding myself uncomfortable with a lot of online poetry communities and pages. I will explain this at a later date but as of now, I am working to try and articulate what my problems are, and how I might fix them for myself in the future.
Currently, I am working on a project for NaNoWriMo. I am writing a children’s book, which is a first for me. It’s a challenge, but it’s a great challenge, and I’m enjoying trying something new. I have a few other pieces in the works – specifically my other short novella and a short story. I am trying to figure out what to do with them. It is scary to put something out there when you have little publishing experience except for online blogs.
I will have an Advent poem coming up throughout December which I hope some of you will tune in to follow, sort of like a poetic Advent calendar. I hope to give you some other short pieces until then, but you should know I am concentrating most of my writing power into my children’s novel.
That’s it from me as it stands. See you in Advent.
Once I met a fork in that craggy road,
And it did two bold options so present –
Two ways in which to go, with choice proceed
Across the scanty plains of life and breath.
One was easy. Simple love for concrete minds
As was solid writ, to nakedness combine
And so become a woman in the truest sense.
Like that! I’d live by Eden’s face and hence
Would bat all questions to our bodied stance.
‘Tis not my love that thou should place in doubt
But that red gate aflame pressed to keep out
Those hearts that at this dreaded fork do
Knee-ward crash. Between the road of self-denial
Or bleak solo endurance in some far exile.