“Keepest thou free… fail thee not”©
Fail thee not… not the age of reason found lest
childhood rear its ugly head to tantrum’s fit,
fail thee not… not the learned to know societies
loss, whence led to failure’s folly, without pain,
fail thee not… not sought to wonder one’s purpose
without considering the weather, coming rain,
fail thee not… not to see true beauty whence found
and loyalty measured, valor doth mean more to few,
fail thee not… bestow acknowledging compensation
due a royal lest they become a pain in arse to be,
fail thee not… control what thou canst, mind what
thou cannot, and remember family keepest thou free,
fail thee not… not to underestimate an opponent in
open combat or risk loss to limb or life so dear,
fail thee not… not to know the difference of said
pleasure sought, layeth not concern for vixen’s tool,
fail thee not… fail not to feed the mind, body and
soul- thoughts new, belly fed and spirit full.
A view to combat
“Company can be found”©
Lost souls meander ’til picked up by wolf or lamb,
another doth there be… company can be found,
whence camest thou sure story to glory in thine
own; therein headed to the ground… to the ground.
Said once and heard naught, sorrow felt as pity
in City-State or Country Fair… fair none lament,
brought it upon thine own self… ‘To thine own self
be true’, seekest the profit to cost of life as spent,
vanity lies in shallow grave… noble in a crypt,
thy duty lies to life so full, endowed as thou gavest,
pretense the Harlequin on checkered floor… smile
the more to misguide those you save, those you savest.
A morning stretch to attract… or to please any onlookers.
“Seasons bring a leaf to fall”©
Restless felt, be thou ‘twitchy’… naught left to breeze,
peril to thy purposed actions creates one such unease,
lost in a melaise of busy… of doing things harbors change
and dost plague thee of marvel whence known to rearrange,
what path… what trail followed sets us to our motion…
the echos past, if envy sought, steals thine own devotion,
twirling’ in the change of wind hence turning season…
fall to spring, the cycles ring to life and true reason,
grow toward growth and stay steady thy feet to path,
time doth soften loss but sorrows held grown to wrath…
seek renewed passion once known well and fondly,
speaketh well and tarry not for heart and soul beg kindly.
A leaf of brass.
“Whence but tears fall on all the sand thou touchest”©
It is our village and to keep it clean a must…
this so pure in thought as for a neighbor, trust,
without said motive seen… even behavior known,
no human end justifies the means we’ve been shown.
If not a village then what? A stepping stone to life…
whose life is spared whence foretold of such strife?
This is where sorrow builds up or breaks us down…
to envision life in rags or embellished with finest gown,
keep thou thy promise of peace or be known unseen…
n’er to be trusted whence found lies doth thou mean,
peace left to and for thy own ways is pure deceit,
no angel told thee to kill another to be complete…
completely insane to deny another life to cherish,
deception comes full circle for some doth perish,
it is our village… either knowest thou love or naught,
if naught then seen thy must… thou wert n’er taught.
Warring with each other is the lesson learned… so much for peace!
Plume and ink 