The willow weeps for me, they say
They play that willow song
What if a willow laughs per se
And we just got it wrong
We misperceive its hanging sleeves
The rustle that we hear
Could be a joke told by the breeze
“Look at that fool, my dear”
The willow dies of laughter, though
We still believe it weeps
The other day I had a go
To listen to the leaves
But it was so serene around
That even birds didn’t sing
Two leaves were slowly spinning down
I couldn’t hear anything..
Though it seems
that somehow
things are not
quite right now,
When the end
is in sight,
He will put
all things right.
Is life fair?
Thank God, not.
We misjudge
our dire lot.
Standards used:
others’ wrong;
shadows cast:
dark and long.
Gravity:
where begin?
Misperceive
weight of sin.
Cast our cares
upon him;
comes the day
He’ll stand in.
Our chief end:
enjoy Son
for all time,
praise works done.
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Kind of bizarre - this is an Irish quatrain called a 'Cethramtu Rannaigechta Moire', but it just appears to be a quatrain with xaxa rhyme scheme and 3-syllable lines... A bit of a mouthful for something so simple...
https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/cethramtu-rannaigechta-moire-poetic-asides
In between the blackness and the bright,
Graded shades of grey and lilac lie.
These variegated colours give delight.
And from my soul, I hear a gentle sigh.
As we live, we dwell in mysteries;
Must take decisions based on various views.
And unknown memories from our history
Bring out the old , so misperceive the new.
For true perception, we must humble be.
Not for moral reasons but for sight.
The emptiness lets flood creative seas.
And allows bright rays of guiding golden light.
We need to know we do not know at all.
And, trembling, hold the doors of vision wide.
So gentle should be judgements when we fail.
Then errors we’ll appreciate, not hide.
We will deal with life unknown, unclear;
Perception is a better guide than fear
Adulthood in Practice
(For Adult Contest)
There came a time when I began to see
That this life was about more than me.
And as that view sharpened in my sight
I saw a line separating wrong from right.
If by choice I placed myself in the wrong,
I knew I could not abide that place long.
I saw my presence there hurting others—
My infinite family of sisters and brothers.
It struck me that each of my selfish acts
The well-being of others a price exacts.
But if I chose the right, hard though it be
I was giving selfless service responsibly.
Being an adult means directing one’s being
To lifting lives and in compassion believing.
Again and ever still it is the time-tried case
Of putting unconditional love in first place.
There are those who believe this is naïve.
To self alone they cleave—and misperceive.
Despite age, they are adults in name only
Numbered of humankind’s lost and lonely.
My only thought as I stand here and ponder
is to what, my love, the thoughts that shall wonder
throughout your mind in my coming absence,
for I wish to be with you at any expense.
But Death has got me
in his tight grasp, so there cannot be,
any escape, anyway to eschew from my fate,
now that I am looking at Hell's gate.
Please do not shed tears with my leave,
for it is only the world that shall misperceive
that I am gone, but every moment I will be there,
watching over, protecting you, so don't despair.
And in this state that I am forced to be,
I shall concoct a plan to flee.
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