a poem is a sermon
Perhaps there is no in between; it’s either pitch black or light. You inch forward or slip backwards, fight each turn of day to night imagining in fierce battle you will lose your coward’s mask. Believing in some great reward, you ask your sword to hold fast. There is no time for fool questions, no […]
If you would seek wisdom, the walls of your prison must be made a prism. To purify vision, let light begin creeping like mice, softly sneaking, almost still half sleeping – if wisdom you’re seeking. 03 MAY 2017 © 2017, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
Each new day is so fleeting: like a busy bee flitting between its sweet hits, floating, never slowing nor quitting. Life’s made of days flying: sighed hellos and then goings. Through each room we go gliding: near colliding, then dying. 19 APR 2017 © 2017, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
Little bird: did you think that no one heard your bright melody at dawn, long gone before day’s first word? Seems absurd that your little tune conferred on my thoughts such peaceful ease across the breeze, little bird. 17 APR 2017 © 2017, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
Believe me: there is nothing evident found in the wild wind’s sad apology that echoes the swift, mad accident of an empirical chronology. The sound careens off the walls and multiplies, pale murmurs slipping along an endless cavity where caught words glow and briefly shine, like fireflies, then gently fade in obscurity. 02 MAR 2017 […]
Soon the sound that breaks the day comes to chase our sleep away; and the darkest dreams night grew blink from black into lighter blue. The world, barely recognized through half-open, hazy eyes, wakes slow with us, its warm glow buried below the pillows. Arise again and don your shield, the ancient weapons you wield […]
Assume battle positions: each gun states its conditions for damning to perdition those it slams with derision. The war horns sound, confounding the loud screams, so dumbfounding, as drums and jackboots pounding start death’s song wild resounding. The chaos, so deceiving! What valorous achieving can come from man’s believing that battle’s won by grieving. 1 […]