Life at Willow Manor, dedicated, in her words, "to the enjoyment of writers, for the purpose of honing their craft, sharing it with like minded bloggers, and keeping their muses alive and well".
Never to rest or know the peace of sleep,
salt night with tears or bathe in tidal dreams;
damned to see all and to by all be seen,
naked and alone, great Eye in heaven.
Frightened outcast forever left behind
by prayer periscope of nursery rhymes;
on what lost orbit and by what bent lens,
did the scared dyslex into the sacred?
Perched atop a pyramid, we all fell
at his feet in praise of the all-seeing eye.
Cyclops banished Apollo and mighty
Zeus himself from the gouged unblinking sky.
Petrified stare of a lonely tyrant
never cradled in a child’s honeyed gaze;
what stern unflinching prison stone is this
for the sensual orb of human bliss?
Fling the chimeless bell in the fire and flee
from the flames! Hurl him at the sun, follow
his arc through clouds blown across the valley,
restore him to the earth’s tender hollow
where mossy lids will bring moist balm to soothe
the weary king, so the ancient chorus
may race chariots in the blinding wind
while he learns the sweetness of slumber. For
when the thorns were thrust down upon his brow,
even Jesus veiled his eyes in tears and worked
his greatest miracle in a bouldered cave
hidden away, unseen, unseeing, returned.
And, now, I encourage you, without batting an eye, to go see what other magpie tales partcipants have offered us this week.