Cracked`Reeds & Bullet`Lead

Hildy Maze

Hildy Maze

I’d like to sing
but can no longer
reach the high or low
notes my voice simply
going to a brittle`squeek
upon Land of the Free
and a horse`growl at
the Last Gleaming
I’d like to sing

I’d like to write
words that awaken
others to celebrations
of Grace Mercy & Peace
amid all this world’s chaos
but bullet`lead makes for
a poor pencil as blood
makes for bad ink
I’d like to write

“My cracked reed
on the high note
the way a nib runs dry
in the rut it makes
and splays.” ~ Robin Robertson


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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2 Responses to Cracked`Reeds & Bullet`Lead

  1. and yet is the greater part of our story written in blood


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