PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The greatest glory of your sincerity,

Is the way you place it squarely,

Without looking to ask prosperity;

And on other shoulders very rarely.



The depth of the dischord that you heal,

The value unassumed by your word,

Could a bouquet or guillotine seal,

That life or death un-erred.



Why it was just the other day,

That I overheard you say,

"He means quite well to do good,

And has trouble when knot to choose."



I realised you meant the wedding ring,

As I cannot find one of worthiness.

And to walk you down the aisle,

I could want no higher desire.



But wait I remember not the proposal,

Made by me for our betrothal,

I suddenly feel a pang of doubt,

As it was "when not to choose" you said about.



This doesn't surely mean there be another,

That when I am not the choice, to be your lover?

No with hades scorn you cannot know this,

Nor do I mean to do good, but miss.



It was your brother who invited us to dine,

Upon a table replendant with prize,

And he said "You both will feast a handsome repast,

And travel the worldly lengths quite far."



He didn't express a final fare and growing distance?

These Oh Blacksmith! are not my wishes,

But alas the reckoning be here beneath pulpit,

Who be the scurvy dog, whoremonger and culprit?!



But no no no let this bedevilment of breach,

Be gone to the bottom of the sea,

For your word has the integrity of saviour,

That my impish "Thomas mind" does undo with flavour.



The pain is not mine, it is of another realm,

That I have stumbled upon with misplaced stealth,

I now place my head upon the block,

I see the flowers and then I see them not.