Take my shifting mind
and in the mill do grind
between the callous stone
break each brittle bone.
The wish of my desire?
To build the fire higher.
Grip each falling piece
or soon they will decrease.
Much more than just
the everwinding dust.
A light goes on
I must anon
to the lake that I do know.
It is where I have to go
and peace of mind I'll find,
in the labyrinthine bind
of tempting sinful wonder
that never will assunder
to scrupulous introspection
or windward indirection.
My life will shine
as your does twine
the birth and death we know
in order that we grow
to be all that we can
woman or man.
My spirit says it's so
but you already know.
A contest entry
- # 127 OPEN TO ALL & "Ye Olde Winklers on Wodensdaye" by Lyndon.
6030 points, ended October 13, 2008, 4 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
Puzzled.
Easy English but the progression, line to line, stanza to stanza, mystifies this reader. It could, just could be my fault. However, I have given it close scrutiny.
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I am not sure
if I interpret this correctly: three stanzas, they could 'stand' alone, yet they also seem to link. Each written in and with 'in the spirit of ...' Some wonderful [individual] lines you have penned here, to linger towards thought allowing the reader then to move on. Your final two lines [stanza 3] 'sort of' places the reader back on path. Be blessed. Frans
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