Sunday, September 1, 2013


*Written from a challenge to include 10 days worth of prompts in a single work and for well or ill, I done 30 bold words in single poetic work*

Thirteen days and thirteen ways
To die, my friend, you’ll find
Dark verse of note and word well-wrote
And joys of every kind.

Take rest, ye merry poet folk
Before ye’d toss the dice.
Search quiet place and ties that bind
The call and sacrifice.

Keep by thine side the poet’s tools,
Lead or that machine
That clicks and rolls the tiny ball,
Leaves ink with luster’s sheen.

And from thy dream and deep repose
Thy pen may drop a line
From that long year that bitter tear
Was thy only prize.

Then blow thy horn and celebrate!
Write!  For comes the day
Thy paper floats like leaf from wood
And burns to ashen gray.

I beg ye merry architects,
Press on and then return
With rose and reason to remember
Each love of which ye’d yearn.

                        --Monty Wheeler

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