Will Not Be As I? Poem by Franc Rodriguez

Will Not Be As I?



Thus the soul and spirit are said to be one,
but yet amid our sullenness we find such lull.
There within the dark corners of our platitude,
shall we be joyous and merry to awry our soul?
If it seems that my guise is shallow and wanton,
therefore it is a hidden mask that I do wear.
Oh ye of little faith why do you threap me,
and graith me with scorn when I shed a tear?
It is a world aloof that it is pleasant one day,
and for another distraught within haste.
The pastures of time and memories are often,
throttled afterwards by a fading tiny face.
Chimes of bells ring melodies with wonders,
and abounded feats that soon wizen in rue.
Unwitting smiles, churlish grins, evinced,
like the fainting plight of a darkle woe.
Do not be displeased to descry at my ailment,
and at my haggard and slovenly countenance.
For if so then bear the burden of wretchedness,
that it does bestow a preternatural image.
Thenceforth if my entreatment is overbearing,
then do not flay or dare to supplicate.
Like a listless corpse there rummaging about,
and bestrewed seeds of which is my fate.
If you be so bold to inquire do not look far,
in your heart is the burden of man's testimony.
The skulking truth that forever shall linger,
like a tart skene my dear sanctuary.
Henceforth if it is you who only reeks,
through the manifold crevices of time?
If it is you who drees within your weird then,
can it not be so, like a reversible rhyme?
Alas, if you die, will you not be as I?

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success