A friend said original writings can be inspirational for a writer's blog. Poetry is NOT my forte, but here's something that I wrote today. It's very rough indeed, but they're just words that I heard in my heart during a rainstorm.
She didn't hear me when I called,
My voice as cold as the mountains fall.
But the pounding isn't new to her,
The space between is clouded all.
My wandering is stilled and roved,
Unsettled, quaked, my normal home.
I yearn to see, I hope to know,
I hide inside each every tome.
But answers avail no seeking soul
Who abides until the sacred dome.
What path I cross abandon still,
I stumble on uncertain filled.
I break, and crack and fail the route,
Bruised, thrown back upon the way unwilled.
Strengthened weakness in me sulks
Hoping one day to be tilled.
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