I am the provender of life; my benign smile evokes ecstasy and upholds peace,
Rile my flares, trouble my essence and life as you know shall cease.
My wake stirs life; I am the messenger of serenity and accordion of bliss,
Peace with my soul and pact with my heart and, nothing shall go awry and amiss.
My trail evokes life; I am the curator of order and harbinger of faith,
Appease my spirit and fate shall chance good taste.
Forever indebted, humbled, awed and in righteous wake,
Can my love and loyalty tantamount with your sanctimonious partake?
Why would I then rile, displease or distaste?
Or is it care that speaks and does heed in bother berate?
2 comments:
Oh GOd! You are back to your old style
Just when I thought I could read, you guile.
Could you please be the mortal you claim to be
So we could retire our dictionaries peacefully?
:)distaste you can
Ufff
Glossary
Provender - food; provisions may be poet means that i am nutrition of life
Rile - to irritate, to make angry
Accordian - Musical instrument
These words took away my benign smile and peace
riled me to core and troubled my essence and life as if came to a cease
Even Dictonary
cannot provide any bliss
Trying to make meaning out of what this poet has said but something in my mortal brain is amiss
I trailed millions of times to know what is not in order and where from is coming this faith
appeased i am not and my fate seems to have no taste
Forever confused, perplexed amused and shattered i am trying my intuition
Wonder I again ...can a lower mortal tantamount with your formidable creation
Why shall i then rile, and make you smile
Yes, care is what speaks, care for not to make us feel berated
ask you i again to walk up a mile and reach our level and also make us smile
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