For Nothing Of Naught So Sought Thy Song. Poem by Michael Gale
For Nothing Of Naught So Sought Thy Song.
Prefractures of a fracturing sparkle...
Predentures of a faltering nature.
Holy phone calls to one who cares...
Blinding undeciveness from one who stares.
Me lady who wants total unwavering care...
Why are ye there, here or bare?
I walk to the tent of nine...
I stalk to the side of thine.
Belittlest little of little wee sons...
Re dribble re griddle to those heaviest of tons.
Loiter my goider to some that lumpeth...
Beseech to thee that alite to the bumpeth.
Fur to thee the wandering few...
Help for me that does not due.
Bicuspid breakers of a brake unchecked...
Beyond my takers from someone pecked.
Keys are but one of the things of life...
No longer mistaken for they of strife.
Beget to forget to set them free...
Regret to forget to dejet and flee.
Flight may take on an appearance of all gone long...
For nothing of naught so sought thy song.
You, Sir Michael Jeffrey, are the PH King of Titles & Intense Abstract Quilling! Where do you find the inventiveness to take several themes/topics, and somehow mold them all into one poetic rubics-cube of complexity...but one that always has a sophisticated message, there-under your intense spread of abstractivity...? Your style is beyond the norm of unique...and your expression, always, forthgiving, and straight-shooting...There is no preTENding...with you, we get the real deal! Frank/FjR
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/3/2024 8:28:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
different write...............amusing....well penned