CommonA Poem by Stephanie CynthiaToo much
noise, too much misery; Fake beauty, false flattery; Feigned
tears, faint hearts; Mock presents, dainty pasts. Too much
singing, too much song; Far too empty, too wrong. Too
regular, too feminine; Too much constancy seen. Too
insincere, too blind; Too raucous to one’s mind. Unhearing,
unloving; Unknowing, unseeing.
Inconsistent,
ravaged, savage; Not aware of youth and age. Not
knowing sins are fatal; Not knowing worlds call chaos. Not
seeing lives are mortal; Not seeing value, nor loss.
Too
defined, too thin, too fair; No curious touch nor flair; Not
jubilant, nor merciful; Not knowing arts are plentiful. Not
voice, nor titles, nor vice; Not pictures, nor pride, nor lies.
Too
soothing, too tedious; Too apparent, too obvious; Too
gracious, too grainless; Not an emblem of happiness; Not
distinctive, nor charming; Not distinguished, nor loving.
Too
engaged, too dim, too forgetful; Too separate, too disgraceful; Too
priceless, too sensuous; No realness is to them, wondrous; Too
unbecoming, too wishful; Too known, too gay, too sinful. Too delighted,
but evil to me; Those boasting beauties of thee; I am not
part, nor flesh of thine; I live with the voice in my mind; I love
in silence, in seclusion; Only mirth salves my delusion;
Too
sparkling, but mean still; Unknowing towards those I feel; I cannot
be, nor shall I be; I shall not place my soul in thee; Thy
voice remaineth loved still; But to love thee, I never will. © 2016 Stephanie Cynthia |
Stats
90 Views
Added on October 6, 2016 Last Updated on October 6, 2016 Author
|