Words are not an action
Nor downcast looks the heart of grief
Whether in soul or transgressed body
A warm embrace and prayer sincere
Are both needed for relief
One’s hunger in mortal flesh
A night of endless dread
Are bonded and made stronger
By tongues of stone that burn the ear
“Go your way; be warmed and fed”
Robert Funderburk was born by coal oil lamplight in a tin-roofed farmhouse outside Liberty, Mississippi. He moved to Baton Rouge, graduated from LSU, served as SSgt USAFR (1965-1971) and now is a retired parole officer spending his time writing and enjoying a country home on fifty acres of wilderness with his wife, Barbara, in Olive Branch, Louisiana. Robert has had seventeen novels published, along with eighty-five poems and five short stories in various literary journals.
Comentários