Spun Done

Hope's promises spin scope's deceits
as will wealth spills, itself defeats,
to common earth uncommon noun
descends, all ends, worms' winding gown.
No guarantees, none understand,
vain King Canute's complaint command,
mind wonders, slurring speech repeats
doomed song that no tomorrow greets.
Imagination plays the clown
with hopes and fears as tears course down,
a lachrymosal saraband,
pitched keen, wails never-never land,
cruel world continues, page is turned,
appearing not the least concerned.

(6 December 2007)

poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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