I don’t feel like writing
my muse is obtuse
neither prose nor a poem
seem to be of much use
“what’s the point?” I complain
“what do I have to say?”
and “who’ll read my words
if I write anyway?”
yet word follows word
as I type and I type
though I feel apathy
still I can’t help but write!
a beautiful spoken word testimony from my dear friend and sister Moriah
many thanks to her for allowing me to share it with my readers
her poetic voice is beautiful and strong and touching
play the video to let her reach out and touch you
love can be roses
and walks in the park
holding hands as day closes
and feeling that “spark”
but sometimes I need
just the simplest gesture:
pulling some weeds
or stirring the embers
because love is much brighter
than thoughts and emotion
to fight for the fire
is the truest devotion
the fairest of them all, he said
complexion flawless, nose demure
lips and cheeks a peaceful solace
lashes perfect, tresses pure
I read a romance in his eyes
believing all he said was true
in many ways he said he loved me
words contrived my heart to woo
I faltered then and looked away
saved by wisdom’s coup d’état
betraying what I might become
should beauty fade and youth withdraw
the root of any grace he saw
was deep and buried in my soul
the trouble – I stepped back, now wary –
outward beauty he extolled
I pulled away, a bit afraid
of how I’d almost been seduced
refused his bid to draw me close
naivete was no excuse
his eyes now gray with pseudo pain
discreetly hiding his desire
to acquiesce would be a sin
why did I ever fan this fire?
once more his words came fervidly
my ears refused to hear this guile
yet how to tell him we were through
while dazzled by that Cheshire smile?
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