Monday, December 3, 2007

A Christmas Poem

Yesterday morning, I awoke early and staggered into the bathroom. It was still dark out, but somehow, covered with the cobwebs of sleep, I had a thought. It was like a tiny candle at the other end of a long, dark hallway, but I saw it none-the-less. It was an idea for a poem.
Now you should know that I write poetry, but not on command. Sometimes, I have poetry-moods - when I write several masterpieces, followed, of course, by poetry droughts, when I wonder how I ever wrote anything poetic, and cannot imagine creating anything new. Well... the drought is over...
Oh, and if anyone would like to use my copyrighted poem for non-commercial use only, you may copy it, print it out and have fun. Here it is:
A Lamb's Tale
By Davis Bigelow
I slept in the field,
That night, when they shone.
Their heavenly light,
Was brighter than dawn.
I heard sacred words,
But had to remain,
Away from the child,
On Bethlehem's plain.
The shepherds all left.
I trembled in fright.
Would I be quite safe?
In the dark of the night?
Silence was rent,
By my a little lamb voice.
I'd have looked for the Christ,
If given the choice.
But such was my a lot,
To wait for the word,
That my Shepherd would tell,
Later on to my herd.
I 'ner saw for myself,
Though I lived, oh so close.
I could choose to believe,
Or be deaf like a post.
But my young Shepherd friend,
Was honest and fair.
I hung on his tale,
'Bout Bethlehem there.
The night Christ was laid,
In a manger with hay.
The night God came down,
For men's souls for to pay.
I felt in my heart,
That the tale was right.
My ears heard the truth,
And my heart filled with light.
Like me, some men are.
Their eyes never see.
Some hear just the words,
And believe, just like me.
 

5 comments:

Ronda Hinrichsen said...

I liked this:

Like me, some men are.

Their eyes never see.

Some hear just the words,

And believe, just like me.


Good job.

Davis Bigelow said...

Very kind of you, Ronda. Glad you liked the poem.

Ainhoa said...

How magical are those moments of inspiration in the middle of the night. The image of a tiny candle at the end of a long, dark hallway is perfect.

Davis Bigelow said...

I, too, think it is marvellously wonderful how our brains are able to roam so freely, venturing into unexplored regions of thought and mood when we are not quite awake or asleep. I've lost count of how many people have told me about things they have thought of in this quasi-dream state. It would be cool to know how many ideas and inventions exist today, purely because of this inspiration. It seems to be a very human condition, yet we all seem to regard it as a miracle... And I think it is. Thanks ainhoa!

Ajoy said...

Oh, so beautiful, Davis. Just beautiful.