My heart is not broken
it is shredded
Ripped apart by serrated steel talons
strings left clinging to the blades
as the rest is left to dry and harden
in the sun
on the side of the road
And yet
in spite of the pain
I will nurse it back to health
Patiently, though reluctantly
For I am not finished with love
Not now
and not ever
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"I have spent my days stringing and unstringing my instrument while the song I came to sing remains unsung." ~ Rabindranath Tagore
- bard
- A mixture of poet and musician, warrior and philosopher, the bard, having grown weary of trying to find his place in the modern world, retired to the Lonely Bard Inn to contemplate his future. He is often seen drinking or writing alone (a personification of the inn itself), but from time to time he joins in the festivities that are always to be found in the pub. On occasion he even shares a poem or song with the sympathetic patrons, who are usually eager for new forms of amusement.
I too, always, choose to live and love irregardless of the cost.
ReplyDeleteMy dear, loyal Maggie.... You know, it might be easier for me to just e-mail you my entries and skip this whole journal thing!
ReplyDeleteNo. Please continue to post. More read than the singular I who seems to be the one posting. These emotions are universal. AND you my email me anytime you so please!!!
ReplyDeleteOh, that's just my "wry humor" side coming out Maggs. In spite of the fact that I haven't been "on my game" with writing for quite some time, I don't think I'll be going anywhere anytime soon.
ReplyDelete