The Battle of the Blinds

It's national poetry month...though I haven't done very much to celebrate it. Several friends have been celebrating it by posting favorite poems, or poems they made up, on their blogs. I don't know my poetry all that well, and I have the writing skills of a three-legged mongoose, so I've held off on doing too much. But, as the month comes to an end, I feel like I should do something. So I decided I would make up a poem for this blog entry. But to save myself the embarrassment of not being a great poetry writer, I also decided I would claim this poem was written by me in the third grade. Understand, though, that this poem, that I wrote while in the third grade, is about recent events in my life.

Though turned, these blinds aren't open. See how the room is enveloped in darkness? Can you feel it wear at you to the very soul? Thus begins the Battle of the Blinds.

The Battle of the Blinds (allegedly written some many years ago)

_

Have you ever suffered such,

that pain and loneliness were nothing new;

And death's destroying touch

Carelessly hovered, hanging over you?

I once did, and here's the tale told,

Of a fight fought with a heart bitter cold.

_

Spring, season when hearts are light,

When winter's grey at last begins to flee,

Windows and blinds, once shut tight,

Thrown open wide, in hopes the sun to see.

But for me, the blinds opened not,

Tangled tight, stubbornly they fought.

_

Cried my heart, heavy with wrath,

Begone blinds that bind me and hold back

The noonday sun to light my path,

And the air with freshness my room does lack!

Fear not, I tugged till tired and sore,

I battled with the blinds, I won the war.

Open at last, after hours of desperate struggling, nigh past the time when fervent hopes of the heart fell lost into the dark bleakness of misery. Hurray for perseverance, the winner of wars!