Wakefield Mahon

I hate rondeaus, they're just too hard
My thinker hurts, my brain is scarred
To say my piece in fifteen lines
In octosyllabic confines
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I remember times when I was just a child
A little boy's imagination still untamed and wild
The times I'd sit in daddy's lap and kiss his stubble cheek
He'd catch me doing wrong, I wouldn't sit down for a week
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In the jungle, the lion-king roars
All that he surveys is his own
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Would Shakespeare and Keats strive to write
Mozart and Bach to compose
They all could not express my love for you
The artists all at once would fail
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One love, one God, one heart, one soul
That is the story I tell
My fingers burn to tell the tale
Of my own personal Hell
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Most beautiful prophecy
In the story of Abraham
Who held his God so dear
That he would sacrifice his only son
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So shines the light of God,
That I am rendered blind
Blind to this world of material things
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Standing atop a mountain,
Looking out across a moonlit sky,
I see a star.
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O fairest Mother that would bear my child
O fragrant blossom of petals so sweet
What joy you bring, gentle woman so mild
At last, now blessed, our love is complete
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My lady is like a springtime morn
Dancing in fields which flowers adorn
My lady is like a summers day
Watching the little children play
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God, you know, it's hard to grow
In a world that's full of sin
Feeling blind, I try to find
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Here I am like it or not
What you see is all I've got
I need to admit that I'm not a saint
When pressure is high, I'm sure to faint
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She is at once golden-blond with the innocence of a child,
And raven-haired as a jealous daughter of Hera
She is brown-haired as a sensible homemaker
And red-haired with a fiery passion
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Only the fool would play at this game
To seek after that which only brings pain
Why should I forfeit all that I could be
Pursuing the shadow of strange fantasy
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I remember many times of feeling all alone.
I felt neglected and disrespected, even in my home.
Eating lunch, by myself, without a friend,
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'Twas one and ten thousand years
Since Eden's dawning day
When He had formed the earth
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Praise God, who created the heavens
Lit brilliant stars, the sun and the moon
Who gave the earth its form
The maker of oceans and rivers
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Precious are times of perfect quiet
When we do neither right nor wrong
When passivity brings us to dreams
By a gentle river of song
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I scream aloud.
I feel the burning tension of my rage.
I feel alone.
I taste the tears only found in solitude.
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In vain, I hide from the shadow of myself
And all that I love, I destroy
Why is the most beautiful soul in this world
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