Downfall Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Life's story's strife lie ties no glory,
no angels believe pearly gates,
Carpe Diem, live moment soon hoary,
all forget talent sickled by Fates,

Set is dream star which once brightly,
clear, fearless, in firmament shone,
luck's slighted, insight's dimmed, Time's slight see
grieves sleeves, life's sheeved leaves waned. Wail wan!

Shred-wed, disillusion, stark spite see,
life's cancelled game, quest, aim, fête's fun;
in tatters Fate scatters forthrightly
grace pace aced in war no-one's won.

Hope's bedspread in shreds, bed of roses
Scope pined for before: shredded, done,
un-wedded from bliss hate-hiss poses
uncomfortable questions, would shun
trust's shine shrine unjust rust lines, lies hounded,
unprevailing as lies veil pale sun,
surrounded by life's leaves dis bound, fed
by woe where fair past fast flowed fun.

Love's star which once seemed infinitely
to bloom beyond tomb meets doom, dumb,
as sentiments sent expeditely
to Lethe mock joyride's vain sum.

Dreams' themes lie unechoed, contritely
one wonders what might have become
if fate had dealt less reconditely
ere great expectations succumb.

Whosoever would compromise slightly
with principles life’s staff has spun
must offer impression unsightly
some pity, some spurn, and most shun.

Ideals threading vision so knightly
no gleam still retain, what begun
in trust unembellished rusts, rightly
forgotten, ignored or undone.

No point in requesting politely
what became of game, quest, aim, fête’s fun;
in tatters Fate scatters forthrightly
all trace of race no-one has won.

Though today some may say hale and sprightly
'tomorrow holds promise' yet none
would relinquish life's tether held tightly:
soon Time spills, boon numbed, still, distance run.