Acroama

First is from the one that’s filled with fear, Listen close and you will likely hear Long and fond drones on the song that’s wrong: “Prove your love and read my mind right now. Hit the mark and do not ask me how Know what triggers me before I do Or I will bleed all over you. “You must live to give me what I need – Broken, faithful, thoughtless heartless steed. You should know where I want us to go Kick and prod until you know.” Second song is from my voice within; A secret silent solemn hidden hymn. Now alone I own this homely tone:  “I was young and hoped that older me Always thought and worked to keep me free. Now I’m old and lost the little boy – Shunned him for her fragile joy. “Though we fight and bite and steal and cry You will always be my little guy. Though our bond is one we cannot see We will make our selfs good company.” Third comes from the one I thought I’d lost, Her kiss and touch it came at such great cost. Blue, you flew and coo the truest tune: “We had gone our sep...

I look too handsome for my books And scare my common friends with looks. The lover stunned by obvious goods  Will soon be lost in darker woods. The gaze that’s quick and can’t contain — The “care” drones on, I wish it gone. The traveler quits before the end And leaves me waiting at the bend Of rarely found gardens of good — Fated fruits misunderstood. Though kind and silent I will stay, “Please go with me,” I think to say. Seldom tasted best of all — The place where God and children call. I sit alone in company  With only me who waits to see. While in this quiet sacred grove I pluck a treasured yellowed rose; I smell the fragrance oh so sweet, Remove the shoes from off my feet. Wash in waters clean and clear, The gentle flow is all I hear. Though none but me awaits me here — I feel no doubt, no shame, no fear. For good remains the garden grove  For anyone to come behold.

For Hamlet, The Prince and Bane of Denmark: The mirror shows a man who really loves; Who cares for kingdom, mother, father, maid. His mind, concerned to do what’s right and true; His greatest strength — his greatest weakness too. No angel sent to loosen thoughtful ties Could brighten the man’s fog’d and busy eyes. No ponderer, without Heaven’s true key, Will ever from defect logic be free. Wisest Old Serpent — Harmless Dove Above, Will teach the souls who overthink their love.