Titus Llewellyn Poet Rhyme

Ode To Melancholy

Tho' woe begone I am found too deep,
         my silent suffering has a credulous will
         unwilling acceptance, it strives to keep
         persistence edging towards that landfill.

         Resentment of those the pain it carries,
         such viciousness to move a past master
         to exude fall and pain my twain it varies,
         in all matters, relating to each disaster.

         The difference is unhurried melancholy,
         it has blatantly given us smaller mercies
         which often force us into choosing folly
         to instigate the mind our outrage curses.

          It leaves one as this indigenous species,
          insurgence swore astutely, with a blithe
         disgruntled sorrow as the will decreases,
          bearing down, too wrought to be alive.

          Yet grief defines how hoary overawed,
          upon this discovery without it resolute
            not far from keeping, my having stalled 
           much sleeping in this state of ill-repute.

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Beata Agustin September 20, 2025 at 10:53 PM Thanks for sharing this... exposing your thoughts through your unique poetic style. Meanwhile, I greet you with the love of the Lord, expressed by John 3:16 of the Bible, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Be blessed.