A True Tale

Did you hear the cacophony,
Of men burly ‘n’ wearing tights,
Who swore by common ancestry,
In mature yet mindless fights?

Over sour ale did they chatter,
Questioning the fancy regime,
That gave not a full platter,
But doses of a hollow dream.

Their fists they banged with might,
While the tapers flickered with fear,
To an uprising that was alight,
For castigating the pitiless royal tier.

With pitchforks, axe and spade,
The bastion they stormed in a flurry,
With a war cry of profound hate,
As the horizon blazed with fury.

“Execute ‘em all”, they roared,
Dashing the china to smithereens
Stagecoaches and satin all burned,
Ending the loathsome regal reigns.

Man of Thirty

Sharp and graciously refined

Walking with steps speedy,

Symbol of elegance well defined

He is a man of thirty.

 

Sporting a bonny coiffeur

And a suit so royally navy,

Shoes shining like silver

He is a man of thirty.

 

Apple of his friends’ eye,

Candy of ladies pretty

Always with spirits high

He is a man of thirty.

 

Echoing a boyish charm

His laugh breaks all monotony

A personality so deeply warm

He is a man of thirty.

 

Carefree yet so matured,

Values and emotions saintly,

Making you feel assured.

He is a man of thirty.

Cast Away

Time has stood still today,

Frozen with thy words, mocking,

Crude ‘n’ coarse than dried hay,

Spewing deep hate so shocking.

 

Etched hastily on this pasty note,

“I dost not any love for you”,

‘Twas a verdict you wrote

My life into shambles it threw.

 

Was I a tawdry plaything?

An article of fleeting pleasures,

Cast into the alleys stinking

An object worthy for beggars.

 

Sweet words of fancy passions

Thy promises of endless ties,

Were they mere pretentions,

Thee uttered in our love nights?

 

In faith my soul I pledged,

Surrendered to your free will,

Your wish with grace I obeyed,

Yet to befall this ordeal.

 

For thee I shall though wait

Through the eternal realm of time,

Destiny cannot but join our fate,

‘Cause the heavens know you’re mine.