FORGIVE ME WHEN I WHINE By Amazu Donaldmario Ifeanyi

From whence shall my reverend reverie tread,
With thousand sprouts begotten of his morn,
Which stood naked; graced with cheerful forlorn,
Upon the earth that smiles with scorching sun,
And melted spleen, wherefrom shall he dare run.

Along this dreaded path that goes sowhere,
With fraughts impending, whispers of desire,
Which chided more its trods in granded ire,
The birds nowhere and songless might whistle
Which might smoothen this path that goes nowhere.

Comfort me o that cares, like healing wings
Of time upon which my hope therefor lies,
May down June this lines still shall i sing,
Might soothe my spleen or might as blue- waved skies,
Which stand and lay when weather bids it be.

Forgive me when i whine to eastern winds,
So west in latticed age has therefor been,
From lands far down that begotted me so,
The breast that fed my young age posses foe,
So winds that caressed then my dearly spleen.

A gleam and sits to set the mind arace,
Or heart when amorous strokes befall,
A gleam of rays descending from ev'ning eyes,
You o the moon and i the nightingale,
You the light that whithered my growing fall.

The brightness might least, but reverend chiefly
By farthest corner withheld by the earth;
And i the little tune which soothers then
The night's silence and aura around men,
So speak o east bless'dly in hallowed girth.

Forgive me when i wine and pine, forgive;
The litters which from there hence, forgive;
Evening beckons darely my every morn,
Yet readily its scorching ray appears
Upon my visage, my vaunts; my end nears.

How bared the cloud, my lonesomeness, how bared,
When night bitters my spleen in vagueing reign,
And veil the stars and tunes which therein made
To steer alive disheart'ning cheers that lurk
Around my being, b'tween joy, happiness, pain.

So comfort me o That wills, comfort me,
When words desert solely my whining voice,
When tears unending, my defects incur,
And bringing night upon my humble plea,
O comfort me then with racing distance.

If dented, fate with oblivious quandaries,
Like years before with compelling tresses,
And down the plain beneath Abraham's sky,
The night calls, days- the unumbered sundries,
But the fishes studded with gold remain.

Hear me the raining woes, hie steadily,
Upon this earth my spleen in fine-bruised robe,
Forgive my whining words and pined ditty,
And rootless stand o That Blessed me vilely,
If by so, forgive my brawling piety.
♣