If I ever make a poetry anthology, I know what to call it: Trunk Full of Broken Hearts. Here goes:
Seventeen Hundred and Thirty Five
Oh fee, oh fie, oh me, oh my.
The wasted years that scamper by;
the gutted life of a passerby
strangers to the heart of lies
I knew a girl both slim and fair
Who sang when sunshine crowned her hair
She caught me wayside with her stare
and entranced; I fell betwixt her snare
Seventeen hundred and thirty five
the numbers of days lost of my life
for love, hope and care I striv'd
to build a life to share with pride
but red-handed tricks and fuzzy words
hid more subterfuge than could be heard
in unspoken word and silent dirge
my undoing festered; unperturbed!
And so it was that my little heart broke;
Upon the words that fair girl spoke;
She feared her parents words, provoked
``You're too short to be a man of note!"
They say such things, these ignorant fools;
Who natter and chatter; these ceaseless fools;
Oh fi, oh fie, oh me, oh my.
These fickle fools do breed fools alike.
and those that follow - she was so unstubborn in our hour of need;
she made her choice - she hath killed our love to spare her parents grief.
- Original Poetry by SHKM