The trolling of the iron bell
brought the pair together
in sickness and in health
through all kinds of weather
he a macho manly male
anticipating his marital right
she a timorous maiden frail
awaiting her wedding night
no more lingering at the church
or languishing left in the lurch
no more cake or champagne
someone left it out in the rain
and that which is to come
he acceding to her every plea
she submitting to his every wish
a happy couple for all the world to see
When everything starts going awry
No qualms in acceding to a special mortal, no matter how grouchy
All gospels on controlling sentiments go down the drain
Blessed and cursed simultaneously like an ounce of hydration in a desert of sand
Seemingly the only logical thing
Belies all the comments on being just a fling
No matter how much bereavement it brings
It is the least ransom one can afford in love from which sightseers cringe
Getting enraptured by it
Even on loosing precious moments one feels most fit
Hope sapped by the fact
As it doesn't seem right
Still unable to curb
Though one tries with might
Only consolation in prenominal testament
That the chosen one is in sight
Prays for divergence from feeling atrabilious
And to channelise energy for what is more precious
Trust not, know not,
Love not, show not,
In the midst of such vague
expressions, lies the life,
of the pessimistic cynic,
or rather the temperament
born from his solitude,
a solitude which remains fortified,
Hope not, see not,
Free not, be not,
are the unwritten rules
of his constant confinement,
Faithless and motionless
due to comfortable surroundings,
He sees the world through logical,
eyes from the darkest spectrum,
As light is merely the wrapping
paper over the ugliest truth,
Illuminated paint covering walls
that shall forever remain the same
Yet the appeal is incredibly seductive,
The brighter allure of hope keeps light desirable
Whereas his view has no seduction,
merely the fact of being fact,
Thus he embraces not corruption,
nor does he take pride in eradicating
any sheltered scent of optimism,
For he too would enjoy a moment
of essential ignorant indulgence,
if only to know the touch of acceding,
Yet he chooses not to, despite his
opinions condemned to being despised,
He sleeps in his only comforting reward,
the serene knowledge that he helps
truth be seen, known, and heard...
Acceding blight, civilization despair.
Entwining fallacy, germinating history.
Ideology jaded, kill-joy labored.
Martyr naught.
Obstinate paladin, quick rumbling spreads,
tense unattainable vicious warning.
Xenophobia yap zipped.
I numbly step aside,
acceding to her prior riight,
knowing full well
that she will smile again.
But I?
The others too,
must have their chance to mourn.
I see their tears and wonder why.
They were not there to hear
his first strong cry.
I clasp their hands
and listen to their words.
"God be with you."
"Time heals all wounds."
I hear the lie.
Resentment clogs my throat.
Can God command the blood to flow
through my still beating heart?
My stone cold heart,
can it but die?
They murmur their good-byes.
At last I am alone
to find my pathway back
to life and God,
without my son.
To try, to try.
For Paula's Feel the Feeling contest Won HM