Trapped

Trapped midst bushes and brambles No escaping their thorny briars The harder he pushed and he tugged The fying pan's oil emerging as fire The Devil Himelf seemed to grin at him madly O, how he yearned to flee, so badly But he'd signed his name to fate's bottom line One's word is his bond, ~ a mere matter of time

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Caren Krutsinger

Date: 5/4/2021 7:47:00 AM

This was his mistake "he'd signed his name to fate's bottom line" Fun read.

Gershon Wolf
Date: 5/4/2021 5:27:00 PM

His word was his bond -- and his fetter(s) too. :) gw

Quoth Theraven

Date: 5/2/2021 5:01:00 PM

Gershon, 'One's word is his bond' The trap we set for ourselves is the hardest to be free of. Thoughts to be pondered in this poem, lessons to be learned. -Richard

Gershon Wolf
Date: 5/2/2021 6:09:00 PM

Such traps have steel jaws, don't they. Good point you've made, Richard.

Kim Rodrigues

Date: 5/2/2021 1:59:00 AM

Wow! Did he sign his soul away or did he have a job that trapped him? Nicely done, dear friend!

Gershon Wolf
Date: 5/2/2021 6:07:00 PM

Perhaps he was a 'contract lawyer' having a bad day. lol. ; gw