She's approaching the end of the pier now.
I fear she will get too close.
I want to scream to stop
her, but it is too late
for the voice's effect.
Too late to retrieve
the years, to find
the signs of a life-line,
to read the messages
unreceived. The water
shrouds her quickly, the waves
wash her face undefined, the eyes
little more than oysters,
and the gray casket closes.
I reach out--
as though I might reverse it,
but her arms stay by her side,
and I am sinking faster
with the weight of our demise.
I look up through the murkiness to see
she's walking away from the pier now.
ZEDS Blog
I enjoy the essays of Dafoe, Addison, and Samuel
Johnson, all of which were published in pamphlets. Pamphlets were in vogue from 1650-1800, providing writers a forum to express views on politics, society, religion, and art. This has been revived in modern times in the form of blogs.
This is now a slight revamp of my blog that started in 2008.
My reading has become a little more specialized, although previous books commented on show I was heading this direction. At this point I will review mainly Christian texts or other texts from a Christian perspective. I intend to post more regularly with book reviews.
I consider reading and writing as part of the spiritual
journey toward maturity and, I hope, wisdom. These are postings of what I’m learning along the way.
Rod Zinkel, August 19, 2015
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Chapbook: Two Natures
The Neville Museum series has published a chapbook of 15 of my poems. They are of human and spiritual natures. Here are two poems from the book:
Two Natures
On still water of the pond
two natures you may notice--
where scum has been gathering,
there also grows the lotus.
One Way
There's a boy
who stands knee-high
to a July cornstalk.
He stares one way
down the dirt road
his mother has gone.
He find Fortune
has desrted him,
like the poverty-stricken,
society-forbidden parent.
"I can't take care of you," she said.
I am the child who mirrors
his mother's tears without knowing why?
Two Natures
On still water of the pond
two natures you may notice--
where scum has been gathering,
there also grows the lotus.
One Way
There's a boy
who stands knee-high
to a July cornstalk.
He stares one way
down the dirt road
his mother has gone.
He find Fortune
has desrted him,
like the poverty-stricken,
society-forbidden parent.
"I can't take care of you," she said.
I am the child who mirrors
his mother's tears without knowing why?
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