These Are My JOTtings...

Bleeding Words

Of four, of five, of six and
of seven and of eight,
The bleeding words profusely band.
In numbers they are great!

My dictionary overflows
in bleeding literary.
My writing pen with leaking knows
the marks are now contrary.

To slice my skin with sharpest knife,
I drain some reddish hope.
With bandaged pressure now revive
more ways to live and cope.

When Christ the mighty Maker died,
life ebbed from places four.
Exuded Love for those whose pride
caused need that He implore.

The blood He shed is living still.
Redeeming lives it runs.
Restored to life He all would thrill
as daughters and as sons.

We hemorrhaged hope. He stanched the flow.
The gush of crimson sin
created death, no grace to know,
'til Victory He'd win!

My words can bleed and blood can, too,
profusely run they both.
My weeping eyes with hope anew,
It trickles smiling growth.

Line Count: 28
Form: Quatrains of two iambic tetrameter & iambic trimeter couplets
Prompt: "Bleeding Words"
Deadline: January 31st at 1:00 P.M. Eastern Time.

by Jay O'Toole
on January 31st, 2018