Poetry Contest Results: Little Light

 

 

This is in reference to this post (click here).

And so, without further ado, here was my entry.

Thespians don garb and face

And become another person

My own skills lack such purity

And they only seem to worsen

Artisans craft splendid works

Of oil, paints, and clay

My crude stick figure bears no life

Even ‘neath the smiling day

Composers draft grand overtures

For plethora of instruments

I wield a mistuned mandolin

And simple chords are intricate

Wordsmiths of yore would ink their quills

Pen thought and phrase divine

My ballpoint scratches dull loose-leaf

Words fit for naught but swine

Others, too, are born creators

From architects to chefs

If my life depend’t on matching such

I’d as soon march to my death

But for letting my light so shine

I will not face such circumstance

Though jack-of-all may be my fate

The Lord gave not my gifts by chance

And so while my light is dim

Nearly drowned out by the rest

I swallow fear, and grit my teeth

And praise Him with the rest

I block my scene, and block again

I draw with fervent zeal

I sing and play with best effort

I write my lengthy spiels

And confidence imbued in me

I continue with my story

With every step, with every tear

To God I give the glory