"gird" poems
Clothe yourself in the full armor of God
and be able to withstand the Devil’s schemes;
know that he’s only the father of lies,
looking to destroy your earthly dreams.
Cover yourself with Christ’s Breastplate
of Righteousness and protect your torn heart;
your essence has been purchased for His Kingdom,
meaning that you’re meant… to be set apart.
Gird your waist with the Belt of Truth
and stand firm with integrity and honesty;
don’t allow your flesh’s nature to interfere
with conditions that you need observe and see.
Shod your feet with the Gospel’s peace;
keep from searching for earthly trouble;
instead congregate with the Body of Christ
and focus on your faith becoming redoubled.
The ongoing battle is not with flesh and blood;
wield Faith’s Shield to quench life’s fiery darts.
Remember that the wiles of Satan are limited!
So outmaneuver him with your spiritual smarts.
Put on your Helmet of Salvation,
for the battles are within one’s mind.
Allow the Divine knowledge of The Word
to resonate with your spirit and find…
yourself continually praying in the spirit
and with understanding on all occasions.
Be alert to His transformational messages,
for upholding Godly principles and persuasions.
Resist the Devil now and he will flee;
endeavor to thwart the enemy’s attack;
be strong in the Lord with power of His might;
promises of victory have been already stacked.
For we don’t wage war with human methods and plans.
We use mighty weapons to knock down evil strongholds
and breakdown every proud argument that keeps people
from knowing God… as His Kingdom, continues to unfold.
.
.
.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Eph 2:2, 6:10-20; 1 Thes 5:5-8; Joel 2:12-13; Rom 4:5;
Jam 4:7; 2 Cor 10:3-5
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.amazon.com/Reaching-Towards-His-Unbounded-Glory/dp/1419650513/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie;=UTF8&qid;=1388058560&sr;=1-1&keywords;=reaching+towards+his+unbounded+glory
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC
[Dedicated to K.M.Ward]
"I will arise and go unto my father"
MALKUTH
Dark, dark all dark! I cower, I cringe.
Only ablove me is a citron tinge
As if some echo of red, gold and lue
Chimed on the night and let its shadow through.
Yet I who am thus prisoned and exiled
Am the right heir of glory, the crowned child.
I match my might against my Fate's
I gird myself to reach the ultimate shores,
I arm myself the war to win:-
Lift up your heads, O mighty gates!
Be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors!
The King of Glory shall come in.
TAU
I pass from the citrine:deep indigo
Is this tall column. Snakes and vultures bend
Their hooted hate on him that would ascend.
O may the Four avail me ! Ageless woe,
Fear, torture, throng the treshold. LO1 The end
Of Matter ! The immensity of things
Let loose -new laws, new beings, new conditions;-
Dire chaos; see ! these new-fledged wings
Fail in its vagueness and initiations.
Only my circle saves me from the hate
Of all these monsters dead yet animate.
I match, &c.;
YESOD
Hail, thou full moon, O flame of Amethyst !
Stupendous mountain on whose shoulders rest
The Eight Above. More stable is my crest
Than thine -and now I pierce thee, veil of mist!
Even as an arrow from the war-bow springs
I leap -my life is set with loftier things.
I match, & c.
SAMECH ( and the crossing of the Path of Pe)
Now swift, thou azure shaft of fading fire,
Pierce through the rainbow! Swift, O swift! how streams
The world by! Let Sandalphon and his quire
Of Angels ward me!
** what
3.5k
Unwatch'd, the garden bough shall sway,
The tender blossom flutter down,
Unloved, that beech will gather brown,
This maple burn itself away;
Unloved, the sun-flower, shining fair,
Ray round with flames her disk of seed,
And many a rose-carnation feed
With summer spice the humming air;
Unloved, by many a sandy bar,
The brook shall babble down the plain,
At noon or when the lesser wain
Is twisting round the polar star;
Uncared for, gird the windy grove,
And flood the haunts of hern and crake;
Or into silver arrows break
The sailing moon in creek and cove;
Till from the garden and the wild
A fresh association blow,
And year by year the landscape grow
Familiar to the stranger's child;
As year by year the labourer tills
His wonted glebe, or lops the glades;
And year by year our memory fades
From all the circle of the hills.
3.2k
Bronze bells' breeze of September showers,
Freezing fluttering fragile flowers,
Tearing the time's tide tactile sense
May leave long love's lighting lance in tense.
Crying colors of cold old castles,
Stroke their sticky sounds without hassles,
Slipping silken sad sun into clouds
Hide the misty murmuring meadow shrouds.
Dancing rain drops like bright blue bubbles,
Big black birds bringing flying troubles,
Wild winds waving their wet wings around
Ghostly green gird up for glassy ground.
Oct 29, 2011
Oct 29, 2011 at 9:31 PM UTC
The snowy lilies gird her pith - in wake;
bejewelled love reposed in truest sleep
as Floras' wreath outdone by sorrow's make,
then thought; what comfort worth are stems - to weep?
Could petals glint upon her sombre plume
and sorb bereaving rain - of mourning kin,
or priestly Latin's timbre out of gloom
and Schuberts' toned refrain - a lighter hymn.
Although, a striking; flowered plush pervades
as fragrance spliced with copal - yields in heart
and over each an ashing pyre cascades,
begotten times and seasons - death not part.
Embraced the blossoms, now upon her lay;
a sweeten lilly - kissed by loves defray.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 1:05 AM UTC
(Judges, vi.25)
Jesus! whose blood so freely stream'd
To satisfy the law's demand;
By Thee from guilt and wrath redeem'd,
Before the Father's face I stand.
To reconcile offending man,
Make Justice drop her angry rod;
What creature could have form'd the plan,
Or who fulfil it but a God?
No drop remains of all the curse,
For wretches who deserved the whole;
No arrows dipt in wrath to pierce
The guilty, but returning soul.
Peace by such means so dearly bought,
What rebel could have hoped to see?
Peace by his injured Sovereign wrought,
His Sovereign fasten'd to a tree.
Now, Lord, Thy feeble worm prepare!
For strife with earth and hell begins;
Conform and gird me for the war;
They hate the soul that hates his sins.
Let them in horrid league agree!
They may assault, they may distress;
But cannot quench Thy love to me,
Nor rob me of the Lord my peace.
2.3k
The highs and lows of living life
Occur in sweeping loops
The ups and downs of everything
Are determined by the groups
Of numbers as they glide
Across a digital display,
In rendering the parabolas
Of this game of life we play.
The winning runs of business
A sweet windfall of cash
Temptation to extend that deal
Beyond …is perhaps rash;
It may just tip the balance
Commence the start of the decline
And your parabolic plunge
Will see you quailing to divine.
How you claw your way to solvency
You sweat to make it right,
How you battle tax malignancy
To surmount official might.
The administrative penchants
Of administrative types
Who insist on crossing every “T”
And switching “OUT” the lights.
Having made it, you sit astride the top
And bask in shining light.
You cast off the cloak of caution,
Claim success as yours by right.
But by morning there’s a thunderstorm
A headache and a snag,
By lunch evicted on the street
With your belongings in a bag.
The ups and downs of life my friend
Are a parabolic coast
One day you’re sitting pretty
The next day you are toast.
The only consolation
Of this constant change of state
Is the reconstructive challenge
In re-determining your fate.
So gird yourself my beauty
Hitch your belt another notch
And launch yourself at living
Before you seek that midnight watch.
For tomorrow is a mystery
The possibilities are vast
And paradoxically speaking
The very best is usually last.
Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
20th July 2008
May 11, 2010
May 11, 2010 at 4:55 PM UTC
I walked in loamy Wessex lanes, afar
From rail-track and from highway, and I heard
In field and farmstead many an ancient word
Of local lineage like “Thu bist,” “Er war,”
“Ich woll,” “Er sholl,” and by-talk similar,
Nigh as they speak who in this month’s moon gird
At England’s very ***** thereunto spurred
By gangs whose glory threats and slaughters are.
Then seemed a Heart crying: “Whosoever they be
At root and bottom of this, who flung this flame
Between kin folk kin tongued even as are we,
Sinister, ugly, lurid, be their fame;
May their familiars grow to shun their name,
And their brood perish everlastingly.”
2.2k
63
If pain for peace prepares
Lo, what “Augustan” years
Our feet await!
If springs from winter rise,
Can the Anemones
Be reckoned up?
If night stands fast—then noon
To gird us for the sun,
What gaze!
When from a thousand skies
On our developed eyes
Noons blaze!
2.2k
Pardon the faults in me,
For the love of years ago:
Good by.
I must drift across the sea,
I must sink into the snow,
I must die.
You can bask in this sun,
You can drink wine, and eat:
Good by.
I must gird myself and run,
Though with unready feet:
I must die.
Blank sea to sail upon,
Cold bed to sleep in:
Good by.
While you clasp, I must be gone
For all your weeping:
I must die.
A kiss for one friend,
And a word for two,--
Good by:--
A lock that you must send,
A kindness you must do:
I must die.
Not a word for you,
Not a lock or kiss,
Good by.
We, one, must part in two:
Verily death is this:
I must die.
2.1k
"...from dust thou art..."
It was one peaceful evening we were having,
ruined by a message; distasteful and disturbing,
a misunderstanding? no, never had been..
.but it had always been the easy way out...
it was an overflow of misunderstood courage...
someone shouldn't have had the face,
but really had the chutzpah to reach out...
one that stood up to the last moment
to gird, to break, to wreck.....and won...
to be...to feel they belong,
this, could be allowed no longer...
this must...has got to stop...
here comes the CLOAK of non-acceptance,
it quickly spreads overhead,
but repugnance PERFORATES!
to be duped anew,
ah, brings back to life old hatred,
for those who think they know better,
but never again, to swim in bad blood...
feelings to be repeatedly exploited,
this, can no longer be allowed....
this...has got to stop...
ashes that were hidden,
ashes that were forbidden,
ashes i didn't feel like seeing
an urn of ashes i firmly refused to hold,
ashes i firmly refused to be anywhere near me.
and now, they suddenly ask,
where to take the forsaken urn?
they can just pollute the river
let the ashes flow with the current...
or, be indifferently blown by the wind
atop a mountain...
for God's sake, why not just buy a vault for the urn?
give the ashes the much-needed peace it longed for..
and let those who were once denied and deprived,
have their own share of much needed peace...
ashes may be carried away
by the sea or the wind---
but there's only one known place:
to the ground we all go,
cremated or otherwise...
so, why fuss on where the ashes should go?
"From dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return." *
Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Biblical quote, from Genesis 3:19'
"Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return."
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
There goes Morris Stonework and Ramada Inn which makes me think of Ramadan which reminds me I’m hungry. I can’t decide if I’d rather reminisce about your eyes or your ankles. You have cute ears too. I’m getting closer to you through money – give it a few more years and gird your ***** - it’s entirely possible to have one’s heartbroken even when one is expecting it. A surprise goodbye, almost mythical, with an audience of produce, I never recovered the breath that caught in my throat. Flying through southern North Carolina and fast women (the green hair. “Punk”) and the breath is beating out in pulses and centuries. It’s 38 miles until I lose everything. You can’t **** something that’s already dead so leave my soul alone (please). Sorry, I’m over reacting. “We quiver we quiver,” the grass says to the water. But I don’t know the riddle and the answer isn’t online. If you were wondering, I wish for you every day. My heart is an idiot (I’ll never take responsibility for what I can hide behind personification). Maybe I’ll start charging him rent. Looking for something to break? Dude, you’re a *** And my thoughts fly apart- Shall his sins be forgiven? Ice skating on frozen parking lots with army surplus coats. Mostly because we want the passing cars to say – how cool, how young, how willowy her thighs – But see there’s a problem, are you just in my head? The tinkling gypsy rhythm is carrying me away. Urgently comes the pad of bare feet and the swish of soft wrists. Coconut oil drinks me up. My stereo whispers, -the magic of ignorance is never knowing what came before these cookie-cutter houses.
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 12:16 AM UTC
Gratitude and Grace Awoke This Morning
Twin Adventurering Path of Light and Gird
Throwing Down the Stairs of Life
Tiger Adventure of The Day
Grateful And Grace Paired
Together Within Footsteps
Heavenly Full Leo
Yes!! Ayes Roar!!
Start Again
Never Slain
Eternal Life
Precious Gratitude
Lifting Elixars Vice
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 8:15 AM UTC
Two middle-aged youth ministers (perhaps)
In a convertible babble away
A dialogue but poorly understood
By a seeker wanting a burger and fries
and truth
Their message seems to be that a pilgrim
In search of meaning might find happiness
and lunch
At a famed neon-y fast-foodery
And so I gird up my billfold and I go
I push the red votive button and wait
And wait
And wait
And wait
And wait
And wait
And in the end go empty away
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
In those days of woe with head hung low
In those moments of regret,
When your actions lose momentum
And your heart begins to fret.
When the best of plans do not work out
When your mountain seems too steep
And tractions lost in everything
And losing makes you weep.
Hard grafting wears your bones too thin
Your tomorrows fade to mist,
The splendour of your recent past
Despatched to moments missed.
Frustration that the rainbow plans
Have dwindled in the rain,
That your brilliant expectations
Have expired to things mundane.
Your stature has diminished
In the eyes of those you love,
Your capableness stultified
By the pointing velvet glove.
Self confidence is wilted now
Belief within less sure,
Potentialities diminishing
With every shrunken score.
Dark sombre thoughts receeding
Blue corners fade to gold,
Discontentment ****** asunder
As new amber dreams unfold.
The towering unhappiness
Diffuses to the air
And spirals of positivity
Emerge from here and there.
The path beyond the shadowed lane
Is there for you to tread,
Gird your soul for chance my friend
Discard the shoes of lead.
There must be dreams to savour
There must be goals to meet,
So launch your bold tomorrows
And delight in unknowns sweet.
You’re sailing in fair breezes now
The silver waters flow,
Warm sunshine on your shoulders
Rich contentment’s fine red glow.
For there must be dreams to savour
To hold within your heart,
To engage the thrill of living
And make each day a joy to start.
Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
7 June 2009
Oct 21, 2009
Oct 21, 2009 at 12:43 AM UTC
Deformity of rationale’s depletion of reserve
Cast derelict to the wind,
A vacant stare’s indifference states
A reluctance to rescind.
For terms spat forth in anger’s heat
Have cut the issues thrice,
So reconciliation’s overtures
Just cannot cut the ice.
To bake the cake of spleen so vile
Has soured the very meal,
And words of curt contrition
Now, seem trite and quite unreal.
Retraction treads a hopeless path
Offended ears refuse
And apology’s bland excess
Just infuriates to abuse.
The battle ground awaits you
As the bright red poppies sway,
Do you gird yourself for bloodshed
Or turn and walk away?
Remember, there’s tomorrow
Where a day just could well rise,
To promise reappraisal’s hopes
…Forgiveness and surprise?
To hell with it Methuselah
Let Trumpets scream their din,
I long to sate revenge’s thirst
Make Anger’s War begin!
Marshalg
Approaching the ragged end of anger.
9 May 2013
© 2013 Marshal Gebbie
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 3:25 AM UTC
**Be strong in the Lord and the pow'r of His might,
As you tread into regions unknown every day;
He will fight every foe as you trust in His love,
And be bold in your faith as you go all the way.
Fight , fight with courage firm,
Fight, fight you'll never fail,
Sure the foe in fear will flee,
By His might you'll ever prevail.
Be led by the Spirit of God every day
To discern all the wiles of the foe in the tray;
Gird your ***** with the truth and renounce every lie,
God is sure to confirm every word that you say.
Take hold of His shield that will quench every dart,
And with stand all the arms that the foe doth prepare;
For no weapon shall prosper against servants true,
God is their righteousness; heritage great and rare.
Oh watch! for the foe roams about to devour,
Whom resist strong in faith , giving glory to God,
Do not doubt , do not fear, but be firm in your stand.
And destroy all his works with the sword of the Word.
Fight sin, fight e'en Satan and sickness and death,
With the shout of the King over pow'r every foe;
You have pow'r both to bind and to rend in His Name,
So be strong in the Lord , and His might as you go.**
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 10:52 AM UTC
Stone me on your Altar of Lies.
I am not scattered light upon the stair!
You're all stuffed mouths and hollow eyes,
Spun from whole cloth but left bare.
The ****** never stirred, but only watched me leave.
Where's the Watchmaker for his Meek?
Tell me, where's the freedom in your Mustard Seed?
How can this be the Love we're meant to seek?
*I am no Lamb!
I won't have your Love!
I couldn't give a ****
and you, sir, are no Dove!*
All seen equal, except those You exclude.
Let's not tout the best of us?!
I can see the cunning, you are shrewd.
But that still just leaves the rest of us.
'Cause what're we but broken people?
Empty lives and Original Sin!
Gird your ***** Guard your Steeple!
This is a club I won't belong in.
*Don't you preach to me
with ***** ******* hands
Holy love and His truancy.
You issue His commands.*
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 10:29 AM UTC
To the town of Atienza, Molina's brave Alcayde,
The courteous and the valorous, led forth his bold brigade.
The Moor came back in triumph, he came without a wound,
With many a Christian standard, and Christian captive bound.
He passed the city portals, with swelling heart and vein,
And towards his lady's dwelling he rode with slackened rein;
Two circuits on his charger he took, and at the third,
From the door of her balcony Zelinda's voice was heard.
"Now if thou wert not shameless," said the lady to the Moor,
"Thou wouldst neither pass my dwelling, nor stop before my door.
Alas for poor Zelinda, and for her wayward mood,
That one in love with peace should have loved a man of blood!
Since not that thou wert noble I chose thee for my knight,
But that thy sword was dreaded in tournay and in fight.
Ah, thoughtless and unhappy! that I should fail to see
How ill the stubborn flint and the yielding wax agree.
Boast not thy love for me, while the shrieking of the fife
Can change thy mood of mildness to fury and to strife.
Say not my voice is magic--thy pleasure is to hear
The bursting of the carbine, and shivering of the spear.
Well, follow thou thy choice--to the battle-field away,
To thy triumphs and thy trophies, since I am less than they.
****** thy arm into thy buckler, gird on thy crooked brand,
And call upon thy trusty squire to bring thy spears in hand.
Lead forth thy band to skirmish, by mountain and by mead,
On thy dappled Moorish barb, or thy fleeter border steed.
Go, waste the Christian hamlets, and sweep away their flocks,
From Almazan's broad meadows to Siguenza's rocks.
Leave Zelinda altogether, whom thou leavest oft and long,
And in the life thou lovest forget whom thou dost wrong.
These eyes shall not recall thee, though they meet no more thine own,
Though they weep that thou art absent, and that I am all alone."
She ceased, and turning from him her flushed and angry cheek,
Shut the door of her balcony before the Moor could speak.
1.2k
There writ in ancient sanscrit text
The answer plain to what lays next,
The answer writ in common tongue
So aged could understand with young,
A secret held within the grasp
Of Kings and Prince of Priests of past,
A secret hidden to confound
All humankind from fact profound
To keep it locked, withheld secure
By gloating greed with goal impure.
Bound in parchment yellow gold
And tied with thong of leather old,
Letters writ in feeble blend
So frail that few could comprehend,
A revelation wrought so hard
That weak might well slice wrist with shard.
I charge thee all take hold within
To gird thyself for message grim........
*"Beyond the end there lies a void
A pitch black nothingness employed
In silence, nay beyond all sound
With deathly stillness all around.
Nothing felt and nothing seen
No sense of good or rank obscene.
Not up nor down, no smile nor frown.
There's no tomorrow in the air
No brilliant light or horn fanfare
The men in pulpits sold a lie
For at the end we merely...DIE!"*
Marshalg
At the Crypt of the Ancestors
10 July 2013
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 7:53 AM UTC
A beastly wind with savage heat
Blew from the north with dust,
The brazen sun relentlessly
Baked skin as red as rust.
To scan the near horizon
Is to ***** the eyes to squint
And a man would **** his brother
For a cold beer from a ****
There’s orders for the gunners
To load cannon with coarse shot,
To prime them with dry powder
And ram them all till hot.
To keep the eyes upon the hills
And be ready for the call,
Because the savages are massing
And our backs are to the wall.
Release the carrier pigeon, boy,
To recall the horse hussars
Because before this day is done
Our blood may run in jars
For the drums of war are beating
And they’re sweeping from the hills
And God help the luckless fusilier
Who dallies with his skills.
In waves, the savages do run
And roar their chant of war,
Beat their spears upon hide shield
And roll their eyes and more...
A wall of pure malevolence
Descends upon us large
And we gird ourselves for battle
And the bugle screams the charge.
Black naked men pour from the earth
In hoards of shrieking mad
With rolling eyes and streaming hair
And rancid breath, so bad.
Roaring shot and cannon volley
Cut a swathe through flesh,
Spear and shrapnel fly opposed
And axe and bayonet mesh.
Swearing men are head to head
Blood and guts do flow,
The agony and roaring triumph
As blades trade blow for blow.
Good and bad are dying now
Their bodies fall like rain,
Young cry for their mothers
While the older scream in pain.
Blood is running in the sand,
Twitching bodies lie,
The jagged sound of battle dims
As vultures fill the sky.
There’s silence with the setting sun
As horse hussar arrives
Too late, by far, to save the boys
Who lay in clouds of flies.
Marshalg
@The Bach
Mangere Bridge
18 January 2011
Jan 17, 2011
Jan 17, 2011 at 7:09 PM UTC
Trouble looms on yon horizon
Scan the body language near,
Signs of agitation pending
Thinning lips to eyes of fear.
Perspiration at the temple
Ire suppressed in florid face,
Amplitude of conversation
Hold the stance and maintain grace.
Pace yourself in torrid moments
Stand as though you know you’ll win,
Gird yourself for fiery challenge
Brace the strength you hold within.
Confrontation rears it’s mane
Conflict will now have it’s way,
Gird yourself for battle friend...
Initiate and win the day!
(Or take a breath and walk away.)
Marshalg
@theCoalface
Mangere Bridge
22 October 2009
Oct 23, 2009
Oct 23, 2009 at 12:19 AM UTC
Poetry is just a tool
To speak your mind, not serve as rule.
Constructed help to bear one's soul,
Declare one's love, or friend console.
To speak in verse is but a scheme,
A packaging for fancy dream.
Fixing meter's common place,
But it's up to the writer's taste.
To rhyme, to pair these simple sounds,
To fuel the whimsy, feed these hounds,
Can sometimes be itself a crutch,
Or hind'rance if it's used too much.
The feeling and it's heartfelt message,
Speak more than some structured presage;
Create your voice from humble words,
An ode or sonnet, praise or gird.
Loose your arrows, verbal arcs,
And dot the Earth with sharp remarks
And when the last launched barb should fall,
Who minds if they should rhyme at all?
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 5:30 PM UTC
Tightening the rope as the fools dance and dither
Squandering the moments as hourglass falls,
Walking the tightrope in a world lost to thither
Assassins maraud as the fat General calls.
Flat fingers hover above plastic buttons
Hover in hesitant moments of pause,
Waiting in limbo instructions from Hades
Exultantly plunging to holocaust cause.
Plunging erotically down to the plastic
Smearing the sweat and blood in a pool,
Lusting your moment of utter destruction
Casting all humankind’s best …to be fool.
Doubt not veracity’s balance in tremor
Out there the Devil is dancing his jig,
Everywhere globally men flee in terror
Uncertainty slides with the squeal of the pig.
Russia inflates as tyrannical tyrant
Isis is spreading its carpet of blood,
Worldwide the military gird for battle
Appeasement disbursed in a torrent of flood
Shades of veracity flood Sarajevo
Memories taunt of that drumbeat to war,
Demagogues strut now the march of the scarlet
God flees reality….and is no more.
M.
17 March 2015
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 1:01 AM UTC
The blank page lies open,
Like a freshly fallen field of snow,
Ready for me to leave my mark
In mucky prints of ink;
Dark across it's ****** slopes
I have little issue with speaking the unspoken,
But begin to falter in breaking the unbroken.
The page is inscrutable; oppressively immutable,
But it's inexcusable to deny its aspiration.
So I must bite my lip and gird my *****
Break the unbroken and spoil the unspoiled.
But if I set off will I stumble?
What if I fall?
What if the penprints I leave across the field of my page go nowhere after all?
Well there are many fields, and many pages;
And on this long journey; many stages.
I roll in the snow and make a mess;
Start with a word and see what comes next.
So just explore where the blank page leads you.
It may not go where you expect.
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC