Sunday, June 28, 2015

Xylotomous Xenogenesis

On Facebook, Leanne O'Rourke has called for abecedarian poems. My first two contributions fell apart, and so I've tried to write one more --

As always, come the end of every day,
By bitterness I find myself consumed.
Call calmly as it might, the final ray
Deems dead my efforts new or late-resumed.
Each evening is a confirmation dire,
Full-forced, that I have far too much to learn;
Grey gravity has tugged upon the wire
High-hung, on which my crossing feet would burn.

In ignorance, and even as I plunge
Jut-jawed, from a less than stellar height,
Kitelike, kicked out even as I lunge
Like lightning at a cloud of dirty white,
Mark Muddle On I am, and what I do
No Niobe would boast of, nor would fame
Offer occultation by the few
Pure positives that I could frankly claim
(Quite qualmishly, as often is the case,
Run ragged as I am by leaping doubts).
So several proven failures in the race
Testify to all my ins and outs.

Unless unfeeling logic take the wheel,
Veer vehemently 'round and quit the course,
Would we see an end to my surreal
Xylotomous xenogenesis
-- Yes, yell it! -- carving efforts to create,
Zig zag fashion, works that captivate?

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