a long lost poem

The other day I was scanning through my blog entries on myspace for the address to my sister's blog site. I stumbled across this poem I wrorte during a hard time on my mission and I thought I'd share it. I still dont know the title so take it as is. ~Nathan

When the pistons grind

and the shackled joints swell,

the pulse of scraping chains

cause the dust to mix

with the sweat and blood of me.

After blazes of that crimson fire

scorched and cracked

my face, marred and bleeding

my soul at last has place for stature

and I know for whom and for what

I am broken.


Matthew R. Hall, Esq. said...

Nathan, this isn't a poem. It doesn't rhyme. I'm sorry.

Seriously though, I really liked the last line. At least we, in the Church, know why we are broken down and shattered so frequently.

Chan said...

I like that it doesn't sound fakey. And I like the pulse of the chains line. Don't know if I read it right, but I like what I read.

Sky said...

Nate, don't listen to Matthew. I think he's joking or he's being an idiot. Nice, smashing, hard images.

Sky said...

But . . . Matthew. Much better picture. I think. Sort of. But you kind of look you just sucked on a lemon.

Julie M said...

I liked this poem quite a bit. Simple, but very strong images and words. Nice work

Matthew R. Hall, Esq. said...

Yeah, I was being an idiot. I did really enjoy the choice of words here. Simple but effective and powerful.