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Perspective – A Poetic Representation of How We View Our Most Valuable Possession

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Никола Станковић студент ОАС Англистике
"evening palaver of the crows" / "evening palaver of the crows" by Cornelia Kopp is licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0

Perspective – A Poetic Representation of How We View Our Most Valuable Possession

 

Greetings and salutations, weary friend!

I have a tale your mind to mend.

Mine is an eye, it sees near and high,

Many odd locals and passers-by.

All types of people, by actions tall,

And bigger actors than in a theatre hall.

But no other story was similarly huge,

As was the tale of Lucky and Stooge

The strength of this parable lies in its merit,

A cerebral gold nugget, yours to inherit.

You may take its wisdom and do as you may,

To live out your life in a meaningful way.

 

I had been in soar for a fortnight and a day,

Before landing on marble my wings to lay.

So vast were all of those beds of bones,

My eyes saw nothing from rows of tombstones.

But then my retinas saw a deleterious sight,

Two darkened men in a shoveling fight.

Their shoveling was swift and too was the end,

At which point Stooge gently consoled his friend.

The soil beneath their feet was flat as water,

A neatly filled grave for Lucky’s poor daughter.

The sight seemed clear like a drop of rain,

So I added my caw to the father’s pain.

 

‘We must continue to live!’ he said with a brave voice,

‘A cruel world it is, we have no choice.

May I please borrow some gold, for a woolen toy?

To mask the absence of a sibling in front of my boy.

I will repay what I am given, so think not of theft,

I only wish to make happy he whom I have left.’

‘You will recompense me, I have no fright.

No one dares defy me because of my might.

And do not expect to hear any joy with the ear,

My children have every toy, and still seldom cheer.

The world is cruel, but life is nothing to commend,

The only consolation is that one comes to an end. 

 

Stooge’s words were harsh, but Lucky did not care,

With his dear friend lives to compare.

He was downtrodden, but perfectly aware,

That his perspective Stooge did not share.

‘You still have a beloved, a woman to praise,

A lifelong companion for the rest of your days.

I loved my beloved, and care for her still,

It pained me to see her become cold as an anvil,

I did not mind her leaving without a goodbye,

Her pain was the most visible thing that met the eye.

And I pray not for reconciliation to God in the sky;

But for her to be a happier person than I.’

 

‘You exercise great empathy’ Stooge said.

‘However, for women there should be no dread.

Mine is not a position that should be sought instead.

They value me for what I have, not my heart or head.

My wife serves my house, but spares not my nerves.

Is that something that a working husband deserves?

The children serve duly, but only when asked,

And are greatly ungrateful, but modestly tasked. 

I know too well, my friend, a feeling you lack,

Which is to return home and to want to go back.

My life is made miserable on certain occasions,

Which is why I engage in unchaste recreations.’ 

 

Lucky remained stood, and shocked as ever,

But supported his friend on whichever endeavor.

The silence was thick, but was soon ended,

When Lucky’s perspective was sensibly defended.

‘I love my life. I would not change it now,

I lived my moments the way I knew how.

There were pities and there are still,

But I was given a life with God’s will.

My dear, Stooge, I haven’t a choice but to live

Until the day humanity goes through God’s sieve.

Shall we be off? I have neither strength nor reason,

To remain in the weather at this cold season.’

 

And the two were off, like they had never been,

Both wealthy, but only one within.

And each satisfied with the words that they gave,

But only one throwing a pouch of gold on the grave.

The one with a sour face cloaked in warm fur,

Bid good day to the vividly shivering sir.

The latter came to his knees and wept,

Before disappearing in the night’s depth.

This is the conclusion to the tale of friends,

Which can be interpreted to different ends,

And all of this was beheld by my own eye,

The tale is now yours, friend. Farewell and goodbye.

поезија , poetry , perspective ,

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