mourning dove, mourning dove
you flew down from up above
and sang a little song for me
in which I heard conspiracy
I found myself in a blind rage
shoved you into a white cage
and you were smaller than my glove
o mourning dove, mourning dove
mourning dove, mourning dove
to take back that brutal shove
I did not think yet was headstrong
your throat was right, my ear was wrong
for you were faithful all along
so fly wherever you belong
but don't fly far now that you're free
please sing again and release me
4 comments:
Struck deaf, I must be! Tho, this silence, be not sweet!
Beautiful, is thy verse! Then right, was I, thou are a Painter of Word.....Lucky, be he, for whom, thy did intend!
It seems, my words, to thee, lose favour. Thy shall never lose favour with this humble soul.
Again, have thy, given my pen life! By your command, I did venture into thy soul's tumult. Lance, at the ready, for Dragon's and Windmills alike. Complete, would be my charge, my life, were I to fell thy vexation.
With no wish, to offend, once more, into the breach, go I.
For thee:
Returned, comes word, on 'skirts of town.
Lies villain, rogue and thief.
Yet, known, are they, to we, that Love,
Frustration, Anguish, Grief!
Evicted from, the village, next,
A dwelling, do they seek.
Tho, this day, thy heart, is heavy
Let not, thy soul, be meek.
My Lady, is a gracious host
Long known, acrost the land
'tis why, it comes, as no surprise
Soon, fore thy door, they'll stand.
Their dire quest? To, prolong their stay.
On weakness, do they feed.
Thus, gird thyself! Thy, inner strength,
Most surely, will thy need.
Whence, in thy parlor, dost they rest,
Bid thee, remain alert!
Then, once, thy pay them, due respect,
Thy will, thee should, assert.
Into thy mind, into thy heart
Inevitable was their visit.
Soon, comes the time, for thee to choose,
They stay or go, which is it?
For, thou art, truly radiant
Such beauty, vogue and charm
Waste not, more sweet time, than thee must
Pray I, to thee, no harm.
Thence, cleanse thyself, mind soul and hearth.
Say I, of this, take stock.
Thy bitter herbs, "I" shall consume
My Love! I am, thy 'rock'!
That's really beautiful. :)
Here today, here tomorrow:
Frustration, Anguish, Sorrow.
They feed on weakness?
They feed off Truth.
And Weakness feeds as well, forsooth.
And Strength does, too,
And Joy and Fear;
As truth is abundant
Noone starves here.
That was so DYNAMITE!
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