Reign – A Rhyming Poem

I.
We are all slaves to something, love
Don’t think I don’t understand
The burdens I bare may look different from yours,
But I still answer to a master’s demands.

I won’t pretend to comprehend
What it’s like for you in the fray
The responsibilities compressing your bones
All the words you must swallow instead of say

The heat burning in your blood and veins
All the pent up explosions subdued
All the things you love and your favorite dreams
Wither with time when never pursued.

But you don’t know the pain I’m in,
How much more of you it would steal
I swallow my own dreams each time I awake
And somedays that is my only meal.

You have your decaying garden
And love, I surely have my own
What lives and thrives, and eventually dies
All depends on the seeds we have sewn.

So let us not waste anymore time
On a contest of each other’s banes
Deep down underneath the stories we tell
Are titanium threads that bind us the same.

II.
Some birds are amazing to watch fly
Their feathers are spenders to behold
Some indigenous cultures once taught the tribe
That feathers were more valuable than gold

And every good Aviary keeper knows
You can’t keep some birds caged forever
A sign of distress from captivity, an omen
The creature will pluck out her feathers.

So here we are at a crossroads
We have a big decision to make:
To call the Alchemist for calcination
Or stay comfortable in our familiar chains.

I choose Alchemy, nature’s friend
To turn titanium threads to ash
And on to steps two, three, and four, through to seven
Coagulation of our dreams at last.

I will not squabble and squander
What little life-force remains
It’s time for the binds to be dissolved
Let the beauty we make return to reign.

After all, some birds do just fine
In cages, some are easy to maintain
But some must fly, and others must sing
And some are too wild to be contained.

Copyright © 2018, Sheyorah Aossi

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This image was credit-linked here: alkab-art.deviantart.com
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Poet’s Notes: I rarely write rhyming poems, unless I’m writing song lyrics, and even then they are more loose and lyrical. This is not technically perfect rhyming or meter, I just wanted to try and express an idea this way. It’s a good exercise, and sometimes the limitations of rhyme lead to more concise metaphor, or at least, to keeping one on a more defined track. Also, there is irony in this topic being expressed within the confines of an imposed ‘meter’, which is apropos, and somewhat amusing to my geeky brain.

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