Young’s Modulus – Poem

Young’s Modulus

We are all beautiful in the sun
The light obscures our deepest features
And blinds the observer’s eye so well
They think I might be a goodful man.
But who lives well in the rain that stains
And drains – dripping down a hoping heart?
She’s one whose care shines through the flooding
And the strength she has by the Arm draws love.

Long Week – Poem

Short poem on loss is inspiration, discipline, slight disappointment in work, fun, and tiredness.

Long Week

Press in the neck
And pulse in the stomach.
Wright in the and
And my strength of the child.
Darkness outside
And eyes closing inward.
Tongue losing whip
And mind’s faltering wit.
Mock shock!
Can it be poetry escapes me?

Kings Of The Earth – Poem

Kings Of The Earth

Here the kings of the Earth rise up
Out of their thrones, into the cup
Of judgement, justice, holy wrath;
Spared we a thought for life’s aftermath?
We are gods, but will die as men
And what will all of us do when
A prophet’s prophecies come true;
Souls weighed and, wanting, undo
The love in giving to that man
Sheltered under the streetlight’s hand
– Though blessed it surely is, we know
Twelve bars of gold weigh not what’s owed.
Deserving nothing we should cry,
Wondering everlasting why.
Be thankful we are well kept here
And have this moment to draw near.

Come, Shield and Charger – Poem

Come, Shield and Charger

Set yourself to steel; a shield is needed
And we can have no spike against the hand,
No weakness to bring harm to the bearer,
Or Death will have a merry feast this war.
Your troop is doubting, and are they correct?
Come, Charger – leader of the family – ,
It is time to ride to battle, and prove
That, though with faltered step, you lead with love.

The Hollow Chest: Beggar of Air – Poem

Not something I’ve personally had, thankfully, but some do have illnesses that cause them to have such a change of emotion that it throws them off-balance every time. Hoping it’s correct in its detail. What do you think of it?

The Hollow Chest: Beggar of Air

While other’s seem to rise and fall
Gently taking it in and out,
My own’s either painfully full
Or will be worryingly not.

Bristling and bursting energy
Is untamed and focus futile;
Spent in a step and I’m empty,
Barely able to make up smiles.

Shant – Poem

Shant

Furious at questions
(Which mildly hint
Toward a suggestion
Of mental-squint)
She slams with a tired tongue,
Crying, for she is young.
Forgiven for the same;
And Mother’s love
Gives on beyond the pain,
For hope above
Drives her soul onward now
– Praying the seed sown grows.