I Shall Not Be Afraid

Have you ever missed an unpleasant emotion, such as missing someone?  I have.  Sometimes feeling that emotion is a good thing, because it means there is still hope.  When you miss being able to miss that special person, you'll know what I mean; it's far worse.
Today's poem is like that; back around the turn of the century (1900, not 2000,) there were two well-known poets who got married.  Joyce Kilmer served in WWI, and was killed in action, right at the height of his poetic career.  His wife, Aline Kilmer, wrote this poem after his death.  
She conveys with it the feeling of wishing for fear, for that would mean that the worst had not yet happened, and there was something left to fear for.  In other words, she wished that hope was still there to be found.
I don't know if any of what I've said will make sense to those reading this, but this poem really hit home for me.  Let me know your thoughts about it.

I shall not be afraid any more,
Either by night or day;
What would it profit me to be afraid
With you away?

 Now I am brave. In the dark night alone,
All through the house I go,
Locking the doors and making windows fast
When sharp winds blow.

 For there is only sorrow in my heart,
There is no room for fear.
But how I wish I were afraid again,
My dear, my dear!

Aline Kilmer

Novel Idea

So the other day I had a new idea on how to share poetry.  I was geocaching with a cousin, (for more on geocaching, see www.geocaching.com,) and didn't have anything to leave in the cache.  So I decided to write down a copy of a poem of mine and put it inside.
If there are any geocachers out there reading this, you might try placing a poem (one of your own or just one you like,) out there.  If you do, I'd love to hear how it goes.

Opportunity

Once again, it has been some time since I last posted.  But here I am, back online and writing. 
Here is a poem I have been trying to re-locate for a while now.  It is another piece by Edward Sill, the writer of "The Fool's Prayer" (see the post for 6-25-2011.) 
This poem is non-rhyming, yet it is a rarity of its kind: it is one that I still find to be poetic; something that reaches past the eye and touches the heart.  I hope it inspires you as it has me.


This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:-
There spread a cloud of dust along a plain;
And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged
A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords
Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner
Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes.

A craven hung along the battle's edge,
And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel-
That blue blade that the king's son bears,-but this
Blunt thing-!" he snapt and flung it from his hand,
And lowering crept away and left the field.

Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead,
And weaponless, and saw the broken sword,
Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,
And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout
Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down,
And saved a great cause that heroic day.

Edward Rowland Sill