When I consider the bulb burnt out I cannot see it. Ev'ry night is a struggle in the room with a view And my only talent is the nakedness I hide-- Scorning me, in it's youthfulness unseen: An Unspent coil, a snake, to serve my Maker, far from the Garden wall...There's no accounting for it...
...Lest, he return, chilled.
Why is God a day laborer, and all Darkness on Sunday? I fondly ask..no light, no incandescent bulb Is Bright!
It's okay, I'll pay the bill, on the 'morrow. He'd made me strong to Work Nights.
And, if I can find my Best Clothes In The Darkness, I shall stand and serve forever in a candle-lit restaurant.
On Monday, November 10, 2008, my small book of poetry will be going to print.
This blog will be devoted to new poems.
As soon as I receive word about web-availability for purchase of "The Wind Shall Hear My Words..." (Publish America.com) a banner will go into the sidebar.
Thank you, for stopping by. I hope you will return, read, and comment.
This Site is open to all. Enjoy & please feel free to e-mail (see: profile) me with any questions you may have, or comments.
~x~ William H. Balzac. November 5, 2008. [Author of "The Wind Shall Hear My Words..."]