The Poet, Who Asked the Birds How To Fly (Mixed Rhyme)

O, behold the man, by the old sea He closes his brown eyes, feeling free Dancing to the wind, taunting the bee He, who loves nature, although, carefree Nevertheless, wants you all to see Him, who hates watching gray clouds hide the bright sky Where falcons, soaring high, relentlessly Against the gusting wind, they’ve freedom to fly Reveling in fleeting days, across the Virulent sea, where he spends time Lulling, unmindful of them The naked ladies of Shem On shoreline rocks, weaving blue rhyme For he does not like to see those eyes, tinted With hues of withered red roses on the ground ‘Cos there is no more beauty, in them, when dead Or, in the eyes, when full of sadness, the sound Of a unkempt sea, where its breath Streaking his soul, without regret Filled with un-prophetic news That he, too, wished to fly, to set Wings to where he won’t have to fret ‘Bout not wanting to peruse… The whippersnapper, who n’er wanted to cry He, the poet, who asked the birds how to fly He, the man, by the old sea, hurt by heart’s lie That, in forms, caused him to unveil Whence readers can feel, the detail Whether, penned in a single verse Or, in a freestyle, like free-verse Whether, it’s written in sonnet Or, perhaps, in a rhymed couplet Between lines, untangle his thought And you’ll see me, the life, I fought