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A Well- intentioned Sinner (credit Mousewords)

The lovely Mousewords is one of the folks I follow on Twitter. She tweeted something tonight about cleaning her bathroom that included the phrase, "well-intentioned sinner."

That line wants to be a poem. Let's see...


I am just
A well-intentioned sinner.
Knowingly imperfect, but yearning to be more.

I suppose
I know I could do better.
If I really wanted to earn a perfect score.

But somehow
I know that I can't do it.
Perfect is so far beyond, beyond the farthest shore.

But can I settle
Just for good intentions?
Knowing that they pave a dark and downward road?

I will reach
Beyond my imperfections
Trusting that Someone will grasp my hand and lead me Home.

A limerick

There once was a man from Nantucket
Who carried his tunes in a bucket.
As they spilled o'er the rim
He cried, looking grim,
"My day job, I guess I won't chuck it."

OK, it's not Pulitzer material. But I wrote it in two minutes flat based on that infamous first line.

My first commission

This was my first commission, back in the 1980's. I was asked to write a praise-poem about a woman, and do it in the style of the old Norse skalds. I didn't know her well, so I asked for some information. I was told she was a teacher of weaving, a friendly and hospitable homemaker who put up with no nonsense from ne'er-do-wells. The following was the result:

Lysbeth's Song

I lift not my voice
to the virtues of war
Nor tell I of travels
to terrors abroad.
This song is sung not
for the slayers of men
Whose fearsome fell voices
frighten the foe.

Many the deeds
well-deserving of praise
That pass unremembered
by poem or song.
Heroes and heroines
whose honor is proved
Not on the field,
but in the home.

Of one such I sing,
a woman whose worth
Is well-known by knaves
and nobles and knights.
Awesome her art
openly shown
To any with eyes
and eager to learn.

Wondrous her work
the warp and the weft.
Cunningly crafted
in cotton and wool.
A weaver who rivals
Arachnae herself!
She wanders the woods
for her mordants and dyes.

Hospitable home,
hearth and hall
For wanderers wearied
and worn by the road.
Smiling, she serves
a sumptuous feast:
Happy her hostel
for hungry hosts!

Courteous compliment
is not conserved
From favored folk,
fitting to give.
Ill-deed is ill-done,
under her eyes;
Rarely reluctant
with rapid reproach!

Happy at hearth-stone,
Long at the loom,
Smiling and courteous
to great and to small,
Teacher of laurels,
lover of life -
Lysbeth Polsdottir!
I need not say more.

Hello, World!

Hi, there. I'm the PayPal Poet. I write poetry on commission.

Reflective haiku, wink-nudge limericks, scurrilous doggerel, yearning love-struck sonnets... you PayPal for it, I'll write it.

You pick the style and the subject, drop some coin in the PayPal bucket, and I churn out the verse. It helps if you give me some content (factual or otherwise) to work with. But I can make stuff up out of whole cloth if need be.

What'll you have?