Chatter's Poems of the Week
Reformation
I listen for Him
out of hearing in the underground
spaces I breathe for
uprising space inside
where He arms me against
a speech of thorns
like a reformed army
newly fitted in prayers that wound
the undertow, spitting
out its bushells of comfortless vandalism
with the speech He gives
before dark
an idea of my present future
my whole being rapt
to His expanse of torchlight
where positivity
must be
lived out
23.8.07 ~ Martin1
Submitted by Pamela-43
And for your pleasure, I will paint my face,
Rehearse my lines, put on my costume drear,
Then come before you, stand firm in my place,
Recite the lines I know you want to hear.
And for you pleasure, I'll dance my routine,
Smile when I should and struggle to stand tall,
Then take my bow and hope you have not seen
The times I stumble, flutter, start to fall.
And for your pleasure, I will be a clown,
A soothsayer who only speaks of fun,
To lift your spirits up when you are down;
Then I'll sit at the mirror, face undone,
And curse the imitator that I see,
And wonder if you ever could love me.
INDY@america-debate.com
