The Shepard's Of Arcadia 22 Poem by Felix Emeka George

The song I sing
You have told me
I am singing a song,
Of extreme tears and sorrows
That is to me tension,
a sharp objects
Cutting through my soul deeply,
A song of sorrow I sing
In stranger's eyes
O my parent of last yester love.

From that till date
Perhaps,
Those men of oratorical glibness;
And their voices sweetness,
On the day of parent interment,
They making promises of heaven and earth,
Are at my back and rear,
In their comings and goings
Never to see them, but
By chances or by accident
Like mind, that is minding,
They would utter words, that is as wide as
Untruth,
Therefore, come, see me,
They say;
"you worthy daughter of worthy parent,
With a most privileged position, and
Of all your ambitious means,
And all your mind pleasing to come
You must be a fortunate house
And rich, greatly tall
Like the ivory"

From their oratory
Many words of hopes, as of a rising sun
Like the mouth chewing beans - cake
It moved
With untruth,
Since your heads lies here
In this earth for termites and worm
And almost immediately is less comfortable.
My ear has heard of such
Of the trumpet blowing,
Which chases the praises and promises?
Into the hell and hymnal,
I came to reason,
Their mouth is as tasteless ashes,
As when I got to their houses,
In a distance fold
They are invisible to the eyes
Or their doors are as form
Like the heaven Gates.