Brown books, or writing on the wall
so tucked away, until the call
of worship ~ Sunday, chance appall
forget your problems, joy install!
Still folded, while the week slips by
the same old problems, reasons why
the brown books, printed, there for all
while little ministry stays small!
Almost a turnkeys make do spall
deserted 'til the others shawl
is tossed to floor, the poorest haul
the Indian's Saint ~ left over Paul!
Who'd rescue this trite flocks recall
part Indian member, family roll
but in her heart ~ Jesus would serve
because the others lost their nerve!
The message, faded printer Songs
now chorus ~ flashed above the Cross
the goodness of the glories roll
stays poor and simple . . . on the Wall!
Categories:
turnkeys, bible, christian, music,
Form: Monorhyme
I'm in my cage
Feeling locked away from normality
Every once in a while a small taste is granted
Every once in a while things feel right
Things feel like they used to
But now I'm locked up
No chance to spread my wings
The letter and law are my turnkeys
They keep me imprisoned
Daylight is glimpsed through my bars
Sunshine is glorious to my withering eyes
But glimpses are my only chance
Basking in light, now that is a dream
A dream that can't be realized
One that can only stay in my head
But now, and only now there is a chance
A small escape away from the cold damp of my cell
A pen, a piece of paper, a light by which to write by
This will be my key
This is my escape to the outside world
And maybe someday, someday soon
I'll be able to bask in that sunlight
Categories:
turnkeys, life,
Form: Free verse