My soul hungered
When I wasn't
Near
My soul shrank
When you weren't so
Dear
I counted the days
Here
Your message to me
Wasn't all that
Clear
You not coming back
Is what I
Fear
Away in a manger
No crib for His bed
Herod found out
All but one were to be dead
Stubborn as a mule
That's what I call you
Never going anywhere
Never doing anything
Why am I
Scared and
Afraid?
Becky, I like these.
ReplyDeleteHmmmmm, stubborn as a mule, eh? Who? Who?
I like these, too. The first one makes me sad, the second one is clever, and the third leaves me wanting for more.
ReplyDeleteHave you read any of Emily Dickinson's poems? They are similar to your style. I think of you when I read them and I think you will enjoy them. Many are riddles and you have to figure out what she is talking about.
One of my favorite ones go like this:
The heart asks pleasure first,
And then, excuse from pain;
And then, those little anodynes*
That deaden suffering;
And then, to go to sleep;
And then, if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor,
The liberty to die.
And another:
Some things that fly there be,-
Birds, hours, the bumble-bee:
Of these no elegy.
Some things that stay there be,-
Grief, hills, eternity:
Nor this behooveth me.
There are, that resting, rise.
Can I expound the skies?
How still the riddle lies!
Do you like these?
I like Stubborn as a Mule!
ReplyDelete