John G. Nelson
My Most Ancient Bride - Poem by John G. Nelson
Oh! To you my most ancient bride
Who causes depths to boil pride?
& just like the thorn from my past
All day & night hunger, greed last.
I, upon these dusts, I’m made to toil,
& let love & smile on your face boil.
Like counsels to yield patient & love
But days, nights sorrow & pain prove
Come outburst your anger upon me,
& love or hate me, these options be;
Come cloth me with your agony &fear;
Allow me to die, crying my old tears.
How mighty then you are, if you nag?
Pardon me if, the spirit of riches lag
For me, I kept holding on broken string,
&in these dark ages, I live my wed ring.
Neither cold affection nor much sorrow,
Comfort, soften our burning hearts below.
Cram with fear, I’ll die the night before
& I shall speak these quarrels no more.
John G. Nelson 2/6/2009
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