Muse

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

The minutes crawl, meandering mindlessly by,

as the mind mulls on myopic miseries.

Minutiae distracting—malicious in its mediocrity,

as merciless minions of misgivings muddy the waters.

But where the muse, whose music brings meaning?

When weaning from mundanity we writhe,

then written on the walls is the wonder of her witchcraft.

Who mollifies the weary and meddles with our worry.

Myriad memories are woven in her menagerie.

Where many malevolent mental blocks

are withdrawn and mended into that

magical mess of which they were wrought.

The who’s and the where’s and the why’s and the when’s,

writing we wrestle them while we still can.

It’s merely a moment, a miraculous wash

but wading unworried we’ll master the world.

-Brad OH Inc.

Spin Top

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

You can feel it in each day,

As the plans just slide away.

You can feel it in the minute,

Perhaps there’s just more in it.

More to look back on,

To miss where you’ve come from.

You’ve made it nowhere before long,

Into the distance the road goes on.

The axis spinning starts to wobble,

Yet unfinished on you hobble.

More to do, and more to see,

And more to meet, and more to be.

But every year’s a little faster,

Can you hear the laughter of the Master?

-Brad OH Inc.

Tomorrow

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

The world turns around,

Another day,

Of urgent nothings,

Slips away.

And all the things,

You’d always meant,

To have a try at,

Came and went.

Busy getting by,

Keeping life at bay,

With the real treasures,

All on layaway.

The most dangerous lie,

That you’ll ever know,

Is the endless promise,

Of tomorrow.

-Brad OH Inc.

7-3-1

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

The seven sons challenged their fate,

For the three jewels of light.

And mired in and endless fight,

Were twisted by their hate.

 

Three fell in the forest caves,

To the Elven King most fair.

And laying kinship bloody bare,

Two died beside the waves.

 

But two did find and finally hold,

The treasures they had earned.

Unclean indeed, their hands were burned,

As it had been foretold.

 

One jewel was cast into the sea,

One to the fiery core.

The last was set on high to soar,

A sign that hope should be.

 

Yet in the end all that was done,

Of good or ill intent.

Has proven but an instrument,

In service of the One.

 

-Brad OH Inc.

Re-Share: ‘Alas for Gondolin’

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

This past Thursday saw the release of ‘The Fall of Gondolin‘, the third and final of the great tales from J.R.R. Tolkien’s first age.

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To celebrate this exciting release, we are re-sharing an old poem about the same events of this new book!


Now I look back to Gondolin,

That city bright and fair.

With endless song and shining towers,

And fountains crystal clear.

Its seven gates had warded us,

From the darkening and doubt.

And in our hidden valley dear,

We shut all others out.

Built so proud upon its hill,

A beacon true and sure.

That song and jest and merriment,

Through madness might endure.

We raised it up from barren stone,

To stand the test of time.

Its towers gleamed beneath the sun,

And love and peace were mine.

But where love blossoms

Envy too, takes root in hearts less fair.

The serpents came, and brought their ruin,

And laid my city bare.

So through the mountains we did fly,

To safety in the south.

Where still remained a people free,

Upon the Sirion’s mouth.

But as I passed I turned once more,

My fear and doubts to tame.

No city white did meet my sight,

Nothing but smoke and flame.

The cries I heard, the screams and clash,

The death of all I’d known.

That hope for all should sunder one

From his beloved home.

At last my gaze turned to the West,

Where the setting sun grew dim.

And there I dreamed I saw a star.

…Alas for Gondolin.

-Brad OH Inc.

Magic

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

Bass and belts and chains and masks,

Grins and laughter, beats and flasks,

Flashing lights and rails of brass,

And ice cubes clink in highball glass,

Inhale of shock and flash of eyes,

Temperature soars and heartbeats rise,

Blurring lights and twisted smile,

Order up and stay a while,

Such madness always does the trick,

Thrill of escape or true magic?

-Brad OH Inc.

Gethsemane

Under the Green Desk Lamp…

In light of the season, a re-share of an old post.

Gethsemane

The green of the trees,

Had passed to grey,

In the deepening dark of night.

I stood waiting,

For you to show,

And knew I would not fight.

I’d seen it all,

What was to come,

We had our roles to play.

To bring it here,

To share those words,

Then sweep it all away.

For no act’s worth,

Is known until,

The final die is cast.

We’d built this house,

And raised it high,

But now to make it last.

The night was still,

The rest were calm,

When you came through the gate.

With fear and fire,

You kissed my lips,

And forever sealed our fate.

-Brad OH Inc.