This poem was written especially for Rick Mobbs at Mine Enemy Grows Older. Rick has been so kind to feature his beautiful work to inspire us to write each week. Due to other responsibilities, Rick has informed us that he will no longer be able to continue his beautiful art prompts. His latest beautiful piece is shown above. . . . I wrote this poem as an interpretation of the art . . . and . . . how I imagine most men, including Rick, may feel . . . at times.
Like Spilt Milk – The Spirit of a Man ~Written by CordieB.
I hold the world with closed iron fists
Though others cry; I vaguely mist
My ego causes my heart to roar
Yet also causes my mist to pour . . . . like spilt milk wasting on the floor.
Instinctively I’m a territorial being…
Not into that which can’t be seen…
Though often I claim to see the light…
Most times I focus on black and white.
My vision prompts my groin to sour…
Yet also causes my mist to pour. . . .like spilt milk reproducing more!
My thoughts so often unrealized…
Not even I can crystallize . . .
the myriad of issues– real or fantasized . . .
My triumphs cause my voice to roar
yet also cause my mist to pour. . . like spilt milk gushing out the door
My God chose me to oversee…
Why has earth’s fate been placed on me?
Should I choose peace; should I choose war?
Responsibilities cause my mind to explore . . .
yet also cause my mist to pour. . . like spilt milk crashing on the shore . . .
~Written for Rick Mobbs in response to his last visual arts prompt. . .