The Movement Of This Pen

The Movement Of This Pen

I beseech the poet's muse
To calm this fright ladened pen
And show what there is to use
To calm terror's wave of din.
Din that drowns the crying voice
Din that hides the pounding heart
Din that gives no one a choice
But to end and ending start.

I pray the muse restore a smile
And in so doing also hope
Upon this soul within its trial
Of not regressing down the slope.
For ever forward comes the mile
That will reveal the means to cope.

I look to the muse for guidance now
To aid in keeping this poet's mind
Directed toward the love I vow
And not to hatred returned in kind.

So dear muse give the movement of the pen
Some understanding of this awful sin.

Michael Bahm

Note: I wanted to write something removed from the events of last week but found my mind too drawn to attempting to understand it. The form of this poem, though consisting of stanzas in ascending syllabic length I do not call them iambs. The lines of the octet are seven syllables long, the sestet-- eight, etc. As I increased the line length I decreased the stanza length until I ended with a couplet similar to a sonnet asking for an understanding.

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