Jonathan ROBIN (22 September / London)
From All in All Tall to Not at All Small
I was stem, I was thorn, I was rose,
I was leaf, I was grief which arose
when you spurned me and burned me
and quite overturned me
to stimulate nectar's outflows.
Life was clement, I acorn which rose
through belief to be chief tree each knows,
who discerned me concerned me
and right from rite learned, to be
true to no counter-fate crows.
Don’t condemn, never mourn, if Death chose
like a thief no relief to propose,
little earn, no return, we
won’t haunt, daunt nor flaunt free
to simulate spectral hell_o[we]s!
I was wide open door naught could close!
I was stride more than pretty please pose!
Yet life's cycle's spun ugly,
bug so snug in a ruggly
now never may metamorphose!
I'm now mortgage bank seeks to foreclose
where I banked on love's loan to oppose
all 'alone' meant: untimely
rhyme to rime froze, I'm debris
discarded, heart trumped, lachrymose.
Oh how Time and Tide flow into woes!
wave goodbye to fond tie when sigh sows
rank betrayal: Luck, lovely,
turned to bitter, green envy,
Life never rains, pours, but, sore snows!
Was this limerick hard to compose?
Fiction, fantasy, fact tract? What shows?
Final verse lies behind me
mind reversing role blind, we
let reader unwind, com[m]a...toes
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