by thegreatsze
A lover's vows are no sooner soft made
Than truths from universes unravel;
In eternal clay half a seedling laid
Drawing above and below, and level.
Heaven it drinks up destiny
In soil a buried uprising;
The sun it sinews to'ards calumny
Whilst winters it wears unweeping.
So Time's fell hand defaces ev'ry ban
In ev'ry voice that indulges whisper;
Across the years and lips of ev'ry man
Dances a quiet existence without Her.
A lover's vows are so made and broken
Would that we had left ours but unspoken.
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3 comments:
I just discovered your blog through some random linkage on Facebook ("Cannot make it one lah"). Possibly the most engaging, intelligent and amusing entries I've read in a while (or ever), although it loses points for not having enough cleavage and daft chicks keeping it dumb but adorable. I thought I'd ruin things a little by gushing in total unrelation to your well written poem, and slip in at least one word that doesn't exist. Hah!
"Not enough cleavage and daft chicks"? Good sir, this must be remedied! Thank you for bringing it to my attention.
I give up! To which neologism do you refer?
Nothing dramatic. Unrelation. Ha! And why is my name so? I didn't realise Gmail matchmade me with a renounced Blogger account from my past. But this is heartening. I'm moving to Singapore in a couple of months. Imagine, two Penangs worth of people such as yourself and Ris Low! A veritable spectrum of wits and tits!
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