Tuesday poetry 08 18 09


                                             On hillside overlooking

                                             I gaze to hills beyond

                                             My heart yearns to travel

                                            The hills across the way


                                            My heart leaps, wanting

                                            To cross the fence

                                            To valley below.

                                           Travel among the trees


                                           A freedom denied me

                                           I travel with gaze

                                           To times past, a memory


                                           I look heavenward

                                           Freedom beckons, a whisper

                                           A roar, I listen


                                           I walk to the hillside

                                           Within there is freedom

                                            A praise, solemn Amen


                                             The shackles are broken

                                             I sit on the hill

                                             Thank You, set to freedom

                                             Quickly the wire is left


                                              A warm bosom, still meadow

                                             Quiet waters, green grass

                                             I walk in the valley


5 thoughts on “Tuesday poetry 08 18 09

  1. Hello John, like layout of 3-line stanzas (almost) suggesting a trinity. Also like ‘spirit’ of reference to 23 Psalm. The freedom denied hints, for me, of restlessness of human spirit and somehow memory of greater power heavenward (metaphoric symbol) and the ‘freedom’ of grace. Like how you compact so much into such seemingly simple lines/phrases. Appreciate how you must work to shape words to poems, which also seem like prayers sometimes to me. Take care poet.

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