Ah, daring, unbarring of thought
Its gate a quiescent quill
Sparring with all that yet is not
Gargantuan want and will
How can one extricate
Or trace thought’s phantom form
Or usher through this meager gate
The impact of its storm
The bard bent on intent
Of compositions where
The music of the mind is rent
With footnotes of despair
…is like a beggar, oft
Bartering with the rain
Where bits of babble drift aloft
Like notes in a refrain
We grapple with a sea
Amorphous anthems spill
Where art of reining in its plea
To fit inside a quill
…draws us into the night
To dare to bare its weight
Twenty-four-seven appetite
Barred by a meager gate
© Janet Martin
My sister-in-law told me she is at her boss's beck and call twenty-four seven. I wanted to tell her 'me too!'...but I didn't;)
My sister-in-law told me she is at her boss's beck and call twenty-four seven. I wanted to tell her 'me too!'...but I didn't;)
