A Tale Of Two Sisters: A Poem by Otega A

Man, often, is a grooming actor.
Sometimes his own devil beneath his shinning robes,
He's always seemingly lost from himself
And often married to a happy river of wrinkles on his forehead
Liked the medieval poet nursing the writers' block.

Love is the coloured flower.
Always the beauty when gardened and watered,
But spiteful and mean when drought will come,
It's often borne on changing weathers in the heart of man
Like the skin of a chameleon sickened with fright.

Therefore, man is the devil and love is the beauty.
Both are yet creatures of different worlds
But with undying longings for each other.
The devil once looked upon beauty
And he confessed his longings for her sincerely.
But beauty looked at devil
And she comprehended him not.
Herein it all began upon a long time ago.

Beyond the rivers and the low plains,
Upon the vast isle of greening and gleaming vegetation
Where the gold is always pure and great wealth abound,
There lived the merchant wealthy above all.
Elderly with no family save for his teenage daughter, Jane.
Baron Aaron, he was called;
Baron over many fortunes and fame, he was.

Of these he did speak to himself and to Jane
Upon a faithful day beneath the fairly dying sun;

"Age be now upon me,
I grow naught but weaker in the passing times.
Much so dearth of youthfulness and of kin but you,
I am void of the pleasing ways to groom your baking youth.
Wherefore, let's foster another of your age from the holy orphanage
That you will look upon her and call her your sister and your kin
When tomorrow will come and I will be naught in my tomb".

Thus she came,
From the ancient home for the homeless broods,
Somewhere far-off the corners of the loneliest plain.
She did come; the teenager renounced from the moments of her birth.
Jenny, she was called.
She was naught, howbeit not naïve;
Naught of all but desires to right the wrongs of nature on her;
Naught of all but desires to right the loneliness and penury of her birth.

Time passes and tarries for no man.
Thus in a decade the sisters bloomed stunning and pleasing to the eyes
Beauty compared beyond the shiniest of the shining roses
Watered and groomed with affluence;
Baked and tendered in naught but glistening gold and shimmering wealth.

Alas! Then Baron Aaron is to die.
On his dying bed did he call the law and his daughters to assert;
"Jenny my child, Jane I give thee to love and hold as thy only kin.
Nought other I have is mine to give thee.
All others, vast and vague, is but Jane's; vowed so to her mother, Janet
For loving and giving her life to buy my sanity when I was naught".

Thence Baron Aaron is dead!
Baron like no other, first of his name, merchant over treasures untold,
Baron Aaron lies within the cold waited arms of his much beloved wife.

Man is the devil and love is the beauty.
Both, yet being creatures poles far apart.
Whereabout these, the devil looked upon beauty
And confessed his longings for her sincerely.
But beauty looked at devil and she knew him not.

The noble baron departed but with fiery hatred sown
Into the much fertile soils of shrewder Jenny;
Soils fermented from many years of penury and longings.
Jane, all and all, naught but gullible and guileless in heart.

Phew! Hatred is the seed that flourish easy and whole!
Then did Jenny nurse a whole garden of it with the passing time
Nurtured and artily groomed with the lingering words of the dying merchant
Till hers was the garden of tall and wholesome apple trees
Fruits carefully blighted, poisoned and ripened to drop.