Some free verse fun

This one goes out to Drew Hatter, who seems more eager to read what I write than I am to actually pen it. Thanks for getting me going again, bud.



A simple prayer
 One not lightly tossed heavenward, a lady's kerchief
Frilled with embroidered words of a flower-laced farce
Perhaps pleasing to the eye and ear of mortal
But infinitely dispensable, its intent.

The flower folds asunder, and finds light and joy in a day
But the frost of the deep night brittles its tender taproot
 mornings wind will blow its frozen ashes before it
And praise its vivacity, we should and must
I find no fault in the fragility and valor of the bloom
The vulnerable courage, I say naught against.

A lesson to be drunk in, aye
And well remembered when winter winds find me
But the prayer I pray is far less beauteous
It does not catch the light, glint of color
Flash of delicate wonder
Scrape heaven with its marvel
Capture the mind of men.

I pray, Lord, to be weighty.
A rock in the hand of the maker
Whose presence is undeniable
Gravity, born of solemnity
Raised in wise council
Aged under feet of trying times.

Soul, be ye weighted.
Not of sorrow of times failed or lost
Nor guilt of crimes left unpunished
No freedom that was robbed.
But weighed down as a breaker of waves
Stands, grey, among the surf crash
Waiting blow after furious blow of the curling clash of oceans rage
Seething tendrils seek to tear it apart.
But steadily and gloriously, it remains.

I grudge not the bird that flies, the man who laughs
I hate not the petal or the frond, the woman who paints and sings
Were world filled only with gravitas men,
I would scarce be able to bear it.
And heaven itself would be too solemn to desire.

So Fly, Dove
Flourish, Rose
Flare and Flash, O Sun above

But Lord, fill my soul with dirt and soil.
So that the bird may find perch,
The flower may find root,
And Sun above may feed them both.
Lord, make me weighty.