A Little Sunday Poetry - Personal Storm

I wrote this sucker back in 2001 - before I got married (hence the different last name).  Hell, this was before I started writing novels - when I was just playing around throwing words onto paper.  Not the best poetry ever, but it's mine.

Personal Storm

by B.E. Meissner

The rain has come again.

I expected more bluster,

But I have weathered much more pain

And courage have I to muster.

I can see the scraps of blue

Between the raging clouds

And as thunderclaps ring through

I’m throwing off the shrouds.

Shrouds of illusion that filled my mind

Fall softly away and I can see

That although my thoughts were blind

It’s not too late for me.

The mud rises up to hold me tight --

I’ve felt its grip many a time

And succumbed to its brown blight --

But this obstacle I must climb.

I can rise up from the clinging slop --

Shake away the unclean feel

Of years of endless duty. Stop,

And work toward what is real.

I alone have made the choice

To stand with back both straight and strong;

To use my mind; to use my voice;

To be the Man I am; to sing my victory song.