His throne sits empty,
Unadorned, but pristine
it was handcrafted,
a gift from someone
who needed to give.
He loves it,
but needs not its power.
His food stores are barren,
For every two grains he gets
two more are given away,
the beggars at the door
leave filled by midday.
He stocks them,
but cares not to glutton.
His robes are worn plain,
For function, not show
they show less his status,
but more of his soul
they add to his regality.
He looks great,
but cares not for looks.
He is my King,
And I am proud
to stand beside him.
Why is it that my pen
works only for You?
Why does my heart beat
in hollow tones
as though there is
empty space inside?
I think I love,
I might be falling
mad for another
But I doubt,
as they are not You.
Although still yet remains
the ringing Question:
If I had the chance,
Would You ever know?
Wherefòre art thou such blind as you now are
Is pen alone not true enough for you
Is distance here of nine feet yet too far
If so please God tell me what is to do
The pen is but a railroad to the heart
And ev’ry drop of ink that spills, I bleed
Do you think I do this for merely art
And that I would do this without need
Here with you by my side I shy away
Though I profess that you are yet the shy’r
So bear I my sweet wolf with me to play
Will in you I keep secret my desire
And thus when I’m near you for e’er I’ll try
To find my love reflected in your eye
I watched the world go rolling by
And gazed upon a golden sky
The road did jerk my cart did quake
But care not I for pushcart’s sake
Two roads diverged upon a path
My driver turned and of me ath
Which way of journey I intend
Upon which road of me he’d send
To left a’ lay a golden hill
Where man could lay and live his fill
It glinted on horizon’s edge
Revelry it’s only pledge
The other path with darker heart
Would give a weak man quite a start
A black grove draped in fear and woe
Where no man ought to sanely go
The roots a’ tangled sinist’ly
Were taloned hooves on ev’ry tree
I first looked right and left once more
Again my driver did implore
Which path of which I would prefer
“Shall I take the left, good sir?”
I dropped my head and nodded grave
This fellow’s sake I had to save
My driver turned and left did go
And dearest friend, you ought to know
I pondered all my driver’s worth
And flung my body to the earth
For I could not fathom all my blight
Without the path into the right
So, the last time I came back, it really didn’t take. You see, 2014 ended up not being a very good year for me. I ended up losing the greatest source of my inspiration, and although I had a new muse, we didn’t really bond much further than on a poetic basis.
In my determination to make this year even better than the last, I’m determined to start bringing back my weird, wacky, sometimes dark brand of poetry, and I’m always available for Poems For Hire, should the need arise. I may convince myself to crank out another short story, although I don’t see that incredibly likely, maybe just a few story poems. Don’t get your hopes up for me to continue writing any of the long form stories that I started (unless you ask really nicely). Those were harder for me, and generally did not pan out as I had hoped them to, nor do I really have time to piece together such long stories.
My wish from all of you is to maybe see a few more comments this year. When I was around I got lots of views, but nobody really had anything to say. As a writer who thrives on critiques, that really took a toll out of my willingness to post.
If you managed to read all of my nonsense in this post, post a comment. I’d love to see if anyone cared to read all of this. If you want, I’ll even whip up a personalized poem for you for being such a good sport, although if you would prefer to go without a poem you could also say that.
Thank you all, let’s make this year better than the rest.
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 760 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 13 trips to carry that many people.