“ A Tear ” ~ too many ~

 

I’ve caused a tear

Or two, too many,

Thru all the years

Or most of every,

Admittedly clear

Be short of reason,

Thus sorry pleas

Not worth a penny

Nor a dime,

Save every time

There be sadness

Sure to follow,

Mostly mine!

 

“ Years ” ~ be of laurels’ best ~

 

Years fading many

Three score plus ten,

When some then

Made feel too many,

Years not living

Aversely at rest,

Somewhat uncertain

Of laurels’ best,

Save idle giving

Wanted for naught

Held put to test,

Not waste what’s left

Though at times lax,

Thru forever days

Found in the past

Inspired by youth,

In then agile way

Did call for truth,

Hoped get it right

Before enduring dark,

Bids life its last night!

 

“ With Morrows ” ~ crowding close ~

 

At lifespan pace,

With morrows

Crowding close,

The days so burn

There’s barely light,

Afore I’m to adjourn

From yet in sight,

While I urge to find,

Time left to see the night!

 

“ Trapped ” ~ inside a feeling ~

 

You run to flee

A feeling held dead,

An angry bent

You so dread,

That of requite

Arguably lent,

Scales so balanced

Thru baseless spite,

Could not amend…

 

Thus trapped

Inside a feeling

Not so dead,

An anxious mind

Wants one’s head,

Hence pell-mell

You scurry hide,

Far from the hell

That calls you back,

Where locked inside,

You’re to face

The hurt you brace,

Till you so reach

Courage to disclose

The matter bleak,

Trapped in a feeling,

That condemned                               

You flee from self,

Till you find hate’s end!

 

“ To Start Again ” ~ in step ~

 

To start again

Now once in step,

Right from the crib,

What we did live,                                                                  

Should risk we cart

Our puerile baggage,

Fixed to the heart

Like tattoo marks

Will trace the scars

Of naive follies,

When careless days

Meant living lies

That eased the way,

To so one day

Give of the spin

Said layers a mind

Of ventures worth

Might grow us wise,

In step this time

Without reprise,

To start again!

 

“ The Wanderer ” ~ on solid ground ~

 

I’d drifted round

Wanting for life

On terra firma,

Tho near full span

I’ve not yet found

To understand,

The held wonders

I failed endorse,

Accepting state

Akin to vegetate,

What life abounds

There to taste,

Instead of waste

All that surrounds,

While I the wanderer          

Has not yet found,

The likely bounds

Offers but solid ground!

 

“ The Wind ” ~ that whispers ~

 

Listen to the wind,

Softly whisper

Its chagrin,

Anxious tales

Harbouring sins

Of men for sale,

Who wile us in,

Won’t hesitate

On but a whim

To devastate,

Hid in the whispers

Of an angry wind…

 

Thus as wind wails

In mock reply,

A sadly echo

Of tortured cry,

Tells be destined

Meant soon to die,

While a final whisper

Be the wind’s good-bye!

 

“ A Mask ” ~ for my mind ~

 

Be no place

Worldwide

One can hide,

When locked

In the eye,

Of a brother

Said big,

Cyber spy

To follow

We fellows,

Begs time

Knit façade,

Held a Mask

For my mind…

 

Fit disguise

Will so bide,

Gist of me

To stay free,

Camouflaged,

Need not flee

As privacy be,

Mine decides

I stand free!

 

 

“ The Libertine ” ~ moot of noble mind ~

 

‘Tis said of man

The libertine,

Be morally moot

Of noble mind,

And wily so to boot

Will disabuse,

With wanton use

Maids who trust,

Would so dare

Gratify his lust,

Whilst he believes

His actions prove,

He idolized

Those he misused,

In varied guise…

 

Hence naïve women

Unmindful thus,

Will soon fall prey

To his devise,

If chance they must

Dare be in reach,

When he’ll enchant

To mesmerize,

For decadence

He’ll exercise,

On gentle mind

Or femme fatale,

Who be so careless

They be lured,

By the disguise

Of libertine,            

The morally moot

Of noble mind!

 

“ The Lane ” ~ dead men stalk ~

 

The lane I walk

In dead man’s land,

Is one that bands

The forlorn souls

That dead men stock,

They who trudge

Hoping to find

What’s left of time,

And so survive

Their soul gone blind,

Unsure they be alive…

 

Thus as I walk

In this non world,

And watch in vain

The suffered pain

Those souls do feel,

Who try to taste

What once was real,

That man laid waste

With insane zeal,

Yet nil a peep

From alleged sheep

To save remains,

For they but follow

Big Brother’s lane,

Who need not walk

In dead man’s land,

Where dead men stalk!

                                                                          ode to Edgar Allan Poe