*** Random Poetry Anyone? ***
Tuesday
 
Two poems 5/23/04
1.

My husband is glad,
But I am so sad.
He’s looking to opportunity new
But I’m leaving good friends, just a few.
He’s buoyant and gay,
I’m gloomy and sad to say
Good-bye to people I value like you.
You are irreplaceable, forever, unique you.

2.
Prometheus was bound to a rock,
His eternal punishment for bringing light to man.
He could not die; he could not move.
The day’s heat scorched, the night’s chill froze
And he endured bound to the rock.

Blood carries the flow of life,
Blood links the distant cells, feeds and nourishes all.
A cut, a severing apart, blood sets into motion curative powers, tiny invisible fibers extend and link, make the stream thick,
Repair is soon begun_ invisible strands that bind the wound and become pathways for the future.

Prometheus was bound to a rock,
Prisoner for life,
Prisoner for eternal life,
Bound to stay, couldn’t move, lost control_ imprisoned on the rock.

One day a woman came by, followed by flies.
In perpetual motion, she could not stop.
Her torture was as severe as his.
Where he could not flee, she could not rest.

She could not stay, for a while or a day.
Her life had no permanence_ no friends, no home,
Just eternal running from eternal pests.

They herded them up like cattle,
Men, women, and children.
Loaded them up on the train cars like cattle,
No food, no water, no care.
Took them to a far off land,
No home, no family, no friends, no hope.

The invisible threads that bind
Torn asunder.
The steel heel marches on frozen ground,
Pounds down the swollen face, the teary eye,
The silent pleading cry
For understanding, for pity, for relief.
No. The march goes on.
Crushing the flowers and the ribs,
Darkening the night.

Prometheus, tied bound, yells
But is not heard.
Wandering woman scrambles ahead of the thundering heel,
Turning wheel, crushing all in its path.

Where is the mother that weeps
And cares for the lost and cold?
Where is the mother whose love consoles,
Warms, and wraps the broken lonely souls?

Let me fly from Prometheus’ hold
To the sky
And with eagle eye
See
And seeing, know
That deep in the hell blow
God’s love resolves all,
Eventually.

The invisible strands grow.
A blossom,
Never before possible grows.
A bud of eternal Love,
Opening imperceptively
Radiates the fragrance of eternal Love continuously.






      ( 11/30/2004 09:08:00 AM ) San_dra#



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Poetry is cool. So are short stories. Care to join in on the rantings? Email me at lmalo7fc@mwc.edu

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