MY RISING SUN
By James Strauss
A depression it’s called,
The size of Grand Canyon.
Climbing a face on its wall,
Fights lost to those I’ve won.
The sun also rises,
The name of some movie.
My life dangling in sizes,
Unseen down below me.
I surge toward the top,
My mind in torn tatters.
What’s there when I stop,
Not that it matters.
I reach for the sky,
Not the depth of my woe.
I need a rope up on high,
Not the dangling below.
All’s going to be fine,
As I’m not yet done.
Warm yellow the color,
Of my rising sun.
Jim, This is the first time I’ve seen one of your poems included with any of your chapters. For those of the “What? This isn’t what I signed up for.” folks, simple solution – Don’t read ’em. Issue solved. I did read it – Several times. Glad I did. I found that each of the 4 line stanzas/groupings/whatever brought back some memories, past & present. First a trickle, like the source water of a stream, then increasing to a steady flow. All from a short poem – Your poem. Thank you. I look forward to the next one. Regards, Doug
Thanks so very much. Poetry is hard not to write form the very inside. At least for me, not that poetic structure is anything I’ve ever studied or practiced much. I appreciate that great compliment, and I understand about the ‘I didn’t sign up for this’ kind of thinking by some too. I can only write on. Thanks again,
and Semper fi, my friend,
Jim
Jim, Have a personal question for you. How can I send that to you? Regards, Doug
Doug…my email address is antaresproductions@charter.net and my cell number is 262 581n5300,
Email or call at any time of your convenience.
Semper fi,
Jim