There seems to be an absolute ideal long lost by inscient Man;
A quenchless debt that ceaselessly steers all his fate-bound scions,
An insatiate debit yet unmet by each history's ill-cornered clan -
Often wholly unpaid, seldom a sliver settled by parodied minions.
It's utterly futile thus - for the nescient father to further sire
Hatchlings whose star kismet already clawed to a vapid end.
Too, toil's rarefied rations are but a bare bit this debt to retire;
Will their woes wane, wanton ways Wind's whims wittily wend?
Wiser how - if the boldest brutes must still bite the dust?
The truly wise unleash the sails and cruise before the gales
Upon the all-gloating Wind's long-wended courses accursed,
And breathe not a word of the mute Destiny's unspoken tales.
It's the uncertain detours that spans of mortal moles must take
That render meanly sweet the hourly-halting heirs' pre-iced cake;
For tough's the toil of the truant tot, testing's the turn of the uncompliant…
All wiser to play by the galled rules - a piteous pawn of an all-timing tyrant!
All wiser to play by the galled rules - a piteous of an all-timing tyrant! a fine poem. original especially in using words.. thank u dear poet tony
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hannington, very nice! I have added it to my poem list. Another 10
You'll be able to get in touch via mumomusili@gmail.com...I am presently unable to access my other email address: -)
Thanks a bunch long-lost pal! I'll spare a few minutes to go through your latest opuses, the one you've just mentioned included...Adieu - for now!