Tuesday, July 07, 2009

Riveted

The stanchions still stand stoically
assailed by summer storms
they’ve hung in there heroically
a tribute to their forms

for steel can be as pliable
as anything that bleeds
and is, perhaps, more viable
with fewer vital needs

beyond a place to bivouac
beneath an open sky
so they can diligently track
their muses spinning by.

3 comments:

Shirley said...

I'm happy to see you're writing again. Not that I ever believed that you wouldn't. ;)

Noah the Great said...

I love how you use such vocabulary and still never miss a beat. I hope your hand doesn't stray too far from the pen from now on. I never stopped writing, I just don't share it; I'm sort of at a point of confusion. Though, the last few months have been sparse with poems I like that I wrote, I'm not sure whether to post them to my blog or let them sit before editing them.

I generally wait a year more or less to edit something. Just now, I started editing poems I wrote when I started writing in September of '07. Anyway, I ramble.

rch said...

Hey Shirley, thanks I'm trying!

Hi Noah, I know what you mean, I have many waiting for some attention. Ramble on!