A Poet To His Beloved
By Conrad Tao
a novel of prose and poetry
A/N: This is not plagiarism from the poems by - well I forgot.

I

A poet to his beloved
Just simply flew away
Beyond the earth
Beyond the land
He simply went astray.
A poet to his beloved
Found his way above the land
The robin was heard singing
"To death he shall meet the end."
A poet to his beloved
Wished for everything he could
With his selfishness and helplessness
He'd never think what he should.
A poet to his beloved
Was naïve, my child
He was mean, he was cold
Yet his heart was brittle and mild.
He was a coward
Trying to be strong
But how could he;
He could never get along.
And yet we were afraid of him
And yet we always ducked
Whenever he came by
To simply try his luck.
And the reason?
It was simple as could be
He had a pompous stride
Which made us think of victory.
Me, I tried so hard
To not be intimitated by him
But never could I avoid
Cowering at the sight of him.

He was not always wrong
And that you will see
For he could be quite wise
When everything was how
He wanted it to be.
But, my dear, I must confess
His piteous attitude was vain,
And whenever anything didn't go his way
He'd howl with terrible pain.
So when he took off last night
None of us were sad
Since some of us, most of us
Knew he was quite bad.
And now, it's quiet.
I look beyond the sea
If he were here (which he is not)
Everything would be how he'd want it to be.