Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Quoth My Demons

I feel I must write
About what, you ask
Maybe love, I say reading your hints non-verbally
But it's been written I quickly follow
Maybe politics, I say and you shudder
Probably already thinking of the shrill screams
Maybe nature, I say
You stifle a yawn with the back of your hand
You were born too late, you say
Everything to say has been said
There is nothing new under the sun
You leave and I open the book of Ecclesiastes
I'll write of an inexhaustible God, I whisper

6 comments:

  1. good to see you writing! will read in a bit

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  2. This is a powerful poem Heather, especially the last line.........

    chris

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    1. Thanks, Chris! Always a pleasure having you as a reader. And it's good to be writing again.

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  3. Perfect. Tells a story without being a story, concludes with a punch. Very nice.

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    1. Thank you, Bekah! That's what I was going for, the story-like quality.

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  4. This comment has been removed by the author.

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Dialogue with me...