It does not matter what I write
of blood-soaked bathroom floors and notes
or bloody birthing tables;
of bodies huddled in the dark;
of children laughing on the grass;
of lovers cuddling tenderly
beneath a knitted blanket
a chilly Autumn day –
it doesn’t matter what I say
or in what way I say it.
I ignite thoughts for bushels,
little candles glimmering
in bowls on weathered windowsills
that no one ever sees.
It does not matter what I write
because I write for me.
Tag Archives: life
A Clearing and a Lake
The grass is tossed and tumbled
in shining colored waves
that ripple in warm bursts of wind
across the verdant clearing.
The smell of sage and pine needles
is lifted to the water’s edge
and bursts down heavily against
its glossy sun-streaked surface.
Life is smaller here and simpler,
primeval maybe, but rich.
As rich as the shining colored waves of grass
tossed by the breeze, scent-laden.
I write
to chase away the riddle
that is not ever solved
save by the grave itself,
to which that place alone
retains the only answer.
Oh life!
Oh life! Great radiance!
Profoundest, happy Spring!
The brightest, deepest, truest greens
And living, breathing, permanence!
Ah, how I’ve loved your brilliant rays,
And grown in your ‘bounding sunshine!
Oh beautiful, bright Springtime,
How lasting felt the days!
How permanent the happy memories!
How vivid in my mind!
How I loved!
And lost the time.
Oh, how suddenly the warm breeze
Of life’s Springtime passes by.
I’d
I’ll never find another friend
That I can trust like you,
Never
Though I search this earth until it’s end,
Not one who’s half as true.
When I founder in life’s tossing waves
You give me reason to exist;
Be
And stay myself against the grave
That seems a refuge to this ship.
Like a compass when I’ve lost my route
You’ve led me through rough storms.
Here
In your safety when night’s winds are out
You’ve kept me dry and warm.
I have trusted your word that said “sail on”
When I had nothing to sail on to.
Without
The promise or the hope of dawn –
But in darkness I’ve had you.
You are, my best friend, honestly
The truest harbor I’ve sailed to.
You.
You have become a part of me.
I’d never be here without you.
Clearing Up—Coast of Sicily, By Andreas Achenbach. Courtesy of Wikipedia.org
Sam Bartholomew's Writing Blog 