Day 21 of 30 Days of Poetry
It's said what's for you won't go by
No matter how you run or hide.
The swiftest arrow cannot fly
Beyond the reach of time and tide.
Does life mean less cut short at birth
Than when one lives to ripe old age?
How best to reckon one soul's worth
Would tax the mind of any sage.
Each dawning day might be your last
So why not spend it in good cheer?
And once the final die is cast
Embrace your lot with conscience clear.
Forget about outrunning Fate:
Your life's to live, not sit and wait.
Wyrd biþ ful arædOld English, from “The Wanderer”: Fate is totally relentless
Day 4 of 30 Days of Poetry
I watch the night approach with wary eyes,
The time when legion tiny fears with bold
Defiance coalesce. I bate my cries,
While deep in strangled guts my blood runs cold.
A thousand icy raindrops trickle down
The arching column of my naked spine
And pool their leaden weight: wishes drown
Bequeathing butterflies with aim malign.
In fields of dreams run nightmares, pounding hooves
A drummed tattoo that shakes the shadow ground
Releasing wraiths: their terrifying moves
Sketch promised horrors, banshee screams resound
Until the golden light of dawn brings calm:
I wipe my fevered brow with sunshine's balm.