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Stone Windows Gerald Bosacker
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 STONE WINDOWS
How dare you send the Larks to sing,
ironic chants for my cold steel cell.
What kind of blessing does it bring
to someone locked in forlorn hell.
Why waste bright paint on morning tide
while dealing out a future cold.
The black of night, might better hide
the iron bars you gild with gold.
Don't stir up yet the waltzing breeze
that bounces off the walls of stone
to shake awake the sleeping trees
and mock with tune instead of groan.
Oh God that dulls the crushing fear
for condemned men destined to hang.
It is my penance to bear severe
the sentence parsed by gavel's bang.
If cells man builds can truly cure
faults that prove God s can often fail,
Pen up the lost so they're secure,
but don't put windows in a jail.
CRUSHING LILIES
My Love wished the water lilies
beckoning thirty feet from the shore.
I could not refuse my first love,
and set out,
wading in soft mud,
stirred by bottom feeding carp,
fickle fish,
whose slime I did cowardly fear trampling on,
worse than their suckling toothless bite.
She held those lilies
to her breast and we mashed
them between us.
My toes forgot the nursing carp.
I never crushed such beauties before,
but hope I will again. |
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Date Submitted:
2002-03-17 00:00:00 |
Copyright Information:
Copyright © Gerald Bosacker, 2002 |
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