Hark! The rhythm

Hark! The rhythm. The pellet drum rattles. The dance begins. The creation, the annihilation, the fleeing in-betweens, and beyond these appar...

Friday, December 21, 2012

Enfield - enfeebled

I was marching into men's field.
I was carving my own niche.
I was greeted with stares.
I was mocked and jibed.
That could have stopped me,
But I just simply smiled.
For those who cannot,
will dare not,
to forge ahead
and make new horizons.
So determined I was,
So strong was my resolution,
That without a thought,
Without any doubt,
I took another step,
And lo! The accolades and acclamation.
I had won.
I had done it.
I had marched into men's field.
I had enfeebled their enfield.


P.S. This is a salute to the spirit of a friend.

Linking with Alphabe-Thursday : Letter E

10 comments:

  1. Yes, Excellent poem, beautiful tribute.

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  2. A wonderful tribute to your friend.

    =)

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  3. Replies
    1. Thank you Debra. I really appreciate your kind words.

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  4. There is great rhythm to this poem, just like the march you describe. I really like the voice of determination as well as the play on words here, Ruby! You have a great way with words.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you Sandra. Your appreciation means a lot to me.

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  5. Oh wow.

    This is excellent!

    I love the power in these words!

    Absolutely enriching and exquisite writing.

    Happy New Year!

    Thank you for linking.

    A+

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    Replies
    1. Thank you Jenny. Your words are such great support. Thank you so much.

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Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.