OK, dear readers, here is a post of poetry. I've never revealed verse publicly, so it if sucks be gentle in so saying. There is no title for this, perhaps you'd make a suggestion? If you wish not to post publicly, then email me at garylong@houston.rr.com.
With friends new and old
Gathered ‘round drink and warmth,
I laugh and watch you sparkle,
The poetry in your eyes a-wont to flail free.
But still the harboring, burgeoning, blissful burden:
Burden of pregnant restraint yielded there, yet now
Lying furtive and fallow in sheets, merely contented,
Unfruitful, unfertile, unaccompanied, and still.
Oh, so still.
My, how lonely the sleep of the pure-hearted must be.
But as for me? The waking and watching is but part,
The vigilant harboring, burgeoning, blissful burden,
That beats beneath this banal breath in lust for grace.
It yearns for freedom yet clings to the known,
Pulled t’ward something like Abraham’s bones,
Until at last upon finding the lost limbs discovers:
The still harboring, burgeoning, blissful, and burdened.
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