It's so vacuous to take back the essence of control from the One who set the earth in motion.
I seized the pen from the Author's hand,
And wrote myself into No-Man's-Land,
Where the thorns bereave and storms demand
My attention's turn from something grand.
I wrote this last semester. Really, I was just playing with meter and rhyme, trying to get a perfect set of lines in iambic pentameter. I got the structure right, thankfully. Kudos to Jeff for final editting. I think this is one of my favorite pieces.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
“Ima” (The Prodigal’s Mother)
Birth is the only jubilant end To one life being shared with another. Not so joyous is the letting go that comes after. No one told me what...
-
Goodbye individual state rights. Well... eventually. I didn't think there were so many stupid people in Missouri.
-
There is something here Something about freedom To see where I was And what I am walking into And to see all the lies Dissipate. To know tha...
-
"Become a nun, and I'll leave you alone." I laughed out loud as I read this statement from a friend in a Facebook message earl...
No comments:
Post a Comment