Shaping alike, Life's performer.
Yet through each what is played
Mixed for tonal colour transmits
The fiddler, cellist; both.
High or low placed, Life's theatre-house.
Yet throughout what resounds
If as no harmonious whole
To be called 'dull' still loth!
Let me tell you my story
Not that it covers me in glory
Looking to be ferried across a river
A frog took me on board as long as I stung him never
Halfway across we were chatting happily
When the temptation to bite his neck came snappily
And loth to miss such a chance
My fangs plunged him into his death dance
Just in time to reach the other side
Before his strength ran out and died
So my lesson to all with a power to use
Never turn up your nose and an opportunity refuse.
As much time you can get
In the middle of busyness
Keep away the anger and arrogance
And fill your life with a smile.
I don't understand where good and bad
Whatever God does, He does for good
I know this and accept this
For He is the source of all goodness.
I know I have to go one day
But why make a push so late
Let's go faraway crossing the road
To the temple of Wife's Loth Temple.
Today is the last Monday of the year
Let's celebrate with good festive mood
Prepare food that would make you healthy
And welcome the New Year with a good bang.
She who was born under the sign of equality,
During the reign of the goat.
Your love sprung and rooted deeply,
But too coward and a lad full of loth.
The water bearer was born in the monkey king’s year,
Whom to be the first you offered I love you.
She had the weight of your mess and fear,
Squandered and punished herself to set free of you.
You ended up with the fair woman.
But you couldn’t handle yourself well,
From other enticements of romances.
Being apart was a challenge to both parties.
Such actions surprised the scale keeper.
You have taken the one who has the symbol of ram,
Only woken during the rooster’s crowing,
And the balancer’s heart is so broken.
~Quetzal
Some perhaps more fortunate poets will
With greater ease urge their heeding quill,
To tell in switching tones many juicy tales,
Of love-aided treks and shipwrecked sails.
Not so for this goofing lyricist whose
Heart-felt lays Muse hesitates to aid.
His adequately regaling yarns refuse
To relay accounts by raw feeling said.
While true impulse says song is sweet,
His loth pen lies that such ditties cheat
The listening heart with strange sights,
With fake ideals set on fictious heights.
Although unsullied emotion colors love
As that rare thing that it has often been,
His pabulum lines mar it with banal ink,
Cladding in dross the slick gold unseen.
The blundering odist displays want of skill,
But let his themes not lose their latent thrill.
Not long I need to let mine heart to shrink
From thine earnest appeal wherein did sink
And firm beneath its heav’nly charm it live
With glorious joyance thence loth to upheave.
So gently thou this time me importune
That any keener soul of love must croon,
But see how alters brisk one’s erstwhile dearest
And heedeth not entreaties that thou makest.
Mayst thou complain I furnish this with art
Of garrulity to reproach, than thou wert,
Thee for thy ways capricious unto me,
As my sweet fury ne’er can I show thee.
Yet cautious I whisper to realms inmost,
Retrieve the passions though alone we boast.
Oaf
who, both
loth to farm and young,
goeth eagerly forth to swear Musketeer's Oath.
Oh, the day was bright and sunny
How the birds both chirped and sang
While the lads and merry lasses ran and played
On the hills their laughter echoed
O'er the lake their shouting rang
Vibrant joy upon their faces was displayed
Some were splashing in the shallows
Others yet were skipping rocks
While the rest were loudly tromping through the green
They appeared supremely happy
With the water in their locks
'Twas in all the merryest sight I've ever seen
All too soon the light was fading
They were surely loth to go
But the dinner bells were sounding far away
And before they ate their dinner
They had chores to do, you know?
But they'd come again and play another day
A NON - FROST APPROACH TO LIFE
Four roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And I’m sorry, but to decide I was loth.
As just a lone traveller, long I stood
And looked around for another which could
Lead me out of the undergrowth.
But all that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I took the other and went the other way!
And knowing how confused I felt, I’d say
I would never want to go back.
I shall be telling this probably feeling high
Somewhere where woods are less dense:
Four roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I just gave up and went back by-and-by,
And in the end it all made no difference.
Songs take voice in rampant whisper
'Pon the skyways of the Night,
Where truant Sun's no longer sway
O'er Moon's solitary reign...
As once again I durst there go,
To that lone moss-mantled Keep,
To unfathomed caves, my heart's retreat,
Enlamped but by sad yearning's glow.
There angels' psalms on black winds sound
Their dirge to Dream's descent
To flowered tombs- sarcophagi,
Where, loth to die, dim embers plead.
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