Though I Spit And Fume And Bate Against My Jess Poem by Colin Breck Boardman

Though I spit and fume, and bate against my jess,
To tear away impatiently to try and reach the sky,
I know it is because in joy I seem to have much less,
Than when I felt quite blest before my muse did fly;
And though I understand that to view things from the past
And compare them with the present will cause my sight to sway,
My problem lies in trusting in a future not quite cast,
When by comparison, it seems, all my hopes have flown away.
So for poetic reasons now I rage against my fate,
For I know my pain is true, since based on what I see,
Though somewhere deep within, within my heart at any rate,
I still maintain a hidden part that waits on what could be.
Thus one Bernoulli multiplies his value with his gain,
While the other one doth lift my wings in sun or pouring rain.

(CBB Sept 2011)