June 5th, 2015

Shaman - Horse

Poem - Bloom of Youth

I am moving into the last trimester of my life. I am challenged to accept the dusk of my mortality. This is done begrudgely. I accept less, and I’m enraged more, when I see my young(er) friends struggling with health issues. While nothing is guaranteed in life, it is anticipated that we get a fair shake. The poem “Bloom of Youth” is a look at the emotions stirred when illness, disability, and infirmity strike those too young for these visitors. It is dedicated to a struggling friend.

Bloom of Youth
Poem for Day 156 – 20150605

Bloom of youth taken,
denied to those of promise.
Cruel tyrant of health,
what have you done?
Disability, infirmity,
release the thralls,
prisoners all,
from your icy grip.

They deserve to walk
the fields of green
in fair recompense
for their tender age.
No fields for these,
those shackled and bound.
Healers' best attempts
offer only glimpses afar

Rail at the ogre,
illness most foul,
for deeds evil,
and compassion vacant.
Dissuade the Reaper,
arrival foreseen.
Plead for reprieve
from the unwanted guide.

Could you stay my friend,
a light outshining mine.
The world needs you here,
and I would miss you so.
Bloom of youth taken,
little given in return.
Cruel tyrant of health,
be kind to this one.

© 2015. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved
Shaman - Horse

Poem - Handmaidens

For your consideration, the poem “Handmaidens” is a frank examination of dogmatic influence on the souls of women.

Bonus Poem for Day 156 – 20150605

Revenants of religion's call
ask for their due in this time.
Echoes of two thousand years,
press down on lives lived today.
Handmaidens to the distant past
asked to bend knee to the ghosts.

With freedom from the taint of sin,
captives seek escape from the chains.
Dogmas stamped in the holy books,
the same ripped across youthful hearts.
Desires expressed in the shadows
when the bright ones will not approve.

White washed robes worn by the faithful
conceal hearts bled dry by contempt.
Hate the sin the faithful declare,
damn the sinner to a fate the same.
Weep for sisters of beauty hidden,
handmaidens to the distant past.

© 2015. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved