Stitch in Time Out - 209
Strange seems the search of maids for mates
when common cause from friends forms foe
replacing with estrangement, hates,
what once seemed blessed above, below.
Familiarity dissipates
romance, contempt breeds, lines won't toe.
Distance links lonely souls who so
imagine they anticipate
complicity which bliss could sow
once twinned together. Yet the wait
itself can contribute to grow
that rancid turns when when what seemed glow
afar fools' gold's found far too late.
Where ignorance seems bliss, minds sow
en empathy that knows no date.
Fête alters after altar's fait
accompli bares the rotten row
of base betrayal where two skate
on thin ice, gleaning harvest fallow,
can't compromise or clear the slate.
Life's tidal streams so swiftly flow
too few can truly contemplate
cross currents which combine to throw
Time's hands towards predestined Fate.
Is distance space defined as though
smiles miles may somehow compensate
when common cause, innate laws glow,
when minds find matter dissipates,
until 'reality's' undertow
waves goodbye when two create
a fantasy of belle and beau
that swiftly may evaporate
when faced with fact as fiction's dough
can't rise to ope occasion's gate.
Few feel for Truth, few care to know
what dream themes teem past Peter's gate,
Death's sting rings changes and although
the "moving finger's" never late,
most try to thwart sharp sword of fate,
hesitate, hot, cold, oft blow,
too often kill what they create,
as, blind eye turned, they backwards g[r]ow.
Lost, tempest tossed, in lovelorn limbo,
most time together, separate,
the lies they live on earth below
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
