To’ve been warned

When frail hands find their match,

Canine jaws overlook feline eyes.

Like a spider with its tied up catch,

Trapping it with no need to try.

Why?

Why not spy it with a chatter’s tongue,

Twisting words to a sentenced maze?

A song; how strangely sung,

An unheard answer wished to graze.

For days and days…

Days that fray like elder cloth,

Weaving till what is, is not.

Wiping way but no more tear,

No mask of wail: we know you’re here.

My dear?

Dear me, deary! What cry of fear!

For this? My flame tongue could not sear!

Do not mope of some made up burn,

That shrivels confidence as of fern.

Learn!

Learn you! You must will to learn!

Way from rotten path you turn.

Better be waywards of ripened roads,

Carrying seeds instead of stones.

And woes!

Woes would be for frightened man,

Weary, old mind of ancient time,

Deaf to whispers, blind of ‘Can,’

The cat’s caught tongue that speaks no rhyme.

And no rhyme shall we hear from him,

In this past, this forward year.

This year to hear, but not from him.

Oh dear! Fly to joyeous tear!

Just do not leer this poor grey man,

Doomed into lonely mockery,

Or else should he, happier ban,

Luck, in a raised bombish fury.

So please you don’t dare even try,

To ask a rudeness and of why,

Hear lastly words, then off you fly:

Goodnight!

Goodday!

Goodevening!

Goodbye!

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