“I Would Rather,” a poem . . .
Rather, I would live than write a single poem. To take a walk or touch a cheek or glide a comb, Through hair that is not dry, but lustrous be. I would rather not be sad, but find my life happy.
A poem is nice, but I’m inside, And I would rather run or glide, Through wind with sun embracing all my ways, For I am sad and lonely these days.
I have the will a poem to write, But I am scared to run outside and fly a kite, Too weak of will and body to engage, In acts of life, stuck on this page.
If I could do both, sure I would, To write and live if only angels could, Help me regain my happy will and hope. With poetry alone, companions mope.
Cherish Life that Abideth – William Morris
Advertisements Love is enough: cherish life that abideth, Lest ye die ere ye know him, and curse and misname him; For who knows in what ruin of all hope he hideth, On what wings of the terror of darkness he rideth? And what is the joy of man’s life that ye blame him For his […]
Through the Trouble and Tangle –
Advertisements Love is enough: through the trouble and tangle From yesterday’s dawning to yesterday’s night, I sought through the vales where the prisoned winds wrangle, Till, wearied and bleeding, at end of the light I met him, and we wrestled, and great was my might. O great was my joy, though no rest was around […]
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