Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
*Rock climbing comes easy to Anyone who has tried to scale The face of the H. Building one Meter at a time. At dusk, and the electricity is Out, rain falls lightly behind You, the single pane of glass Not quite in reach. An illusory trance protects one Hand at a time as it shakes its Way upward, followed with luck By one foot. Wishes aren’t horses or fishes, And even prayer cannot create Steel steps or a decent length of Climbing cord. Gazing upwards or down is a Dizzying event, twin spires or The water towers on a collection Of rooftops below. The task was to gain entrance To the building from which he Had been banished, although Dangerous it was. To grasp and grab and place And displace, to pull up and Put down, to gain a quarter Meter in the process. Barely a stone’s throw from His right hand was the edge Of a windowsill, slippery but Amenable to a lunge. Losing a toehold would be A disaster, so the skid free Soles on his shoes would ensure Victory. A windless, now dry façade Provided just the surface for His hand to seize the sill. Itself a jagged prize. Here is a case, he thought, Of mind over mortar, of the Proof positive that man can Do without scaffolding. Even the banished can climb To heights armed with secret Weapons and ready to meet A ☺ at the summit.* © Lewis Bosworth, 12/2016
0
Dec 26, 2016
Dec 26, 2016 at 8:46 PM UTC
The Jagged Challenge
*Rock climbing comes easy to Anyone who has tried to scale The face of the H. Building one Meter at a time. At dusk, and the electricity is Out, rain falls lightly behind You, the single pane of glass Not quite in reach. An illusory trance protects one Hand at a time as it shakes its Way upward, followed with luck By one foot. Wishes aren’t horses or fishes, And even prayer cannot create Steel steps or a decent length of Climbing cord. Gazing upwards or down is a Dizzying event, twin spires or The water towers on a collection Of rooftops below. The task was to gain entrance To the building from which he Had been banished, although Dangerous it was. To grasp and grab and place And displace, to pull up and Put down, to gain a quarter Meter in the process. Barely a stone’s throw from His right hand was the edge Of a windowsill, slippery but Amenable to a lunge. Losing a toehold would be A disaster, so the skid free Soles on his shoes would ensure Victory. A windless, now dry façade Provided just the surface for His hand to seize the sill. Itself a jagged prize. Here is a case, he thought, Of mind over mortar, of the Proof positive that man can Do without scaffolding. Even the banished can climb To heights armed with secret Weapons and ready to meet A ☺ at the summit.* © Lewis Bosworth, 12/2016
lewis-bosworth
Written by
Madison, WI USA
Dec 26, 2016
Dec 26, 2016 at 8:46 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem