Sweet Sorrows Of Bemoanments. Poem by Michael Gale

Sweet, sweet sorrows of bemoanments...
Allocate my love for peaced allotments.
Herald my secret crest...
Harden and coddle my tempest's breast.
Berate sweet sorrow to an impeding marrow
of sweet harvest's end...
Danger rears it's most ugly dread.
I ingest it's angered bread...
A midsummer's sweetened sausage.
Reveals it's most deepest lossage...
Take heart to indemnity's ired rile.
Partake to a busted heart's most loyal vial...
Drink in it's rimmed loaded course of errosion'd.
Tied, are my hands, by errore'd devotion...
To be, is to be most of loved.
To bathe in it's most drowning wet tub...
Avast, far reaching dead.
Read to me, my night's own stead...
Loftly toss to me, this night's impending end.
Give to heart, a most eternal end...
Sweet sorrow, to no tomorrows.
Beget and reset, all by mouth, well loudly oral'd.