painT-Traps

“We should think seriously before we slam doors, before we
burn bridges, before we saw off the limb on which we find
ourselves sitting.”—Richard L. Evans

how oft we paint ourselves into a corner,
when hot words fly and reason limps thereafter!
gone with the wind, escaped into the ethos,
infantile thoughts ballooned into vile foetus.

infernoing life’s bridges is the red paint
that blisters all the hopes of that would-be saint
who, lavished by the swell of transient treasures,
peeks not once back to mark their waning measures.

biting the hand that feeds you is the blue paint
that swallows up the residue and leaves faint
the trail that leads back to the blessed harvest.
alas!  the bleeding hand excites the crow’s nest.

cry not wolf! wolf!  when there is but a songbird,
lest villagers should rush to save the wrong herd;
your wolverine day may come when least expected,
with no recourse from those you’ve disrespected.

humility boasts not of fame or fortune,
nor are its moments fed by the opportune.
ingratitude is oft the soul’s self-poison,
a gracious spirit man’s best seat of reason.

© Copyright 2024 July 04
by Clyve A. Bowen♫