His Plight

His Plight

Josh Berry

As the sun with purple'd eye looked
At the large remonstrating brook.
The blind knight heaved a sigh:
The sun sharing his plight:
Both of radiance were glued.

His trouble taunting him once more:
Every dawn revived the moor.
Relentless age won him:
Thus, he sook a maiden.
His plight on another plight fall.

Thus, he summoned some other knights:
To bear with him or ease his plight:
Of a matter he sook them;
What would it toss them,
That he crave a wife by his side.

The sun  adjusted her rude look,
Easing the ever sweating brook:
The former migrating,
The latter adjusting.
All knights summoned at the knight’s  hood.

“Greetings” (he said), a sober tone
His words wore, set on iamb's throne.
“Let my matter be fair,
And my plights to you dear,
Pain’s seeped in my marrow and bone. “

Alfred, the long-lipped knight, picked up
His words, refilling the knight’s gourd:
“Let your heart through your mouth,
Speak to us, kill your doubt,
Or what good shall it be, if tucked? “.

Two knights more admonished him yet.
Thus, his courage no longer fret.
Then, he unleashed his plight,
His words constructing fright.
His plight on fright wet his wit wet.

“As you all know “ he thus begun,
“Fierce age had fought with me and won
Relentless battle thrown,
But his fierceness it blown.
Defeated am I and so worn.

Plus this, I am blind like the bat:
The ill-natured bird which hell spat.
Soon, age will welcome death,
My wisdom split on earth.
And with me shall die my impacts.

Thus, that I of no losers be:
Looser of sight and of offspring.
Rethink me have a wife,
To ease me of one strife,
And bear the lamp nature ‘prived me”.

“That’s a good choice” said the long-lipped:
His interest for the knight’s plight tripped.
“Worthwhile” that was thany,
Approved, also many.
Then, the knight ‘gnited his glottis.

“Since all your interests concur,
Of what  channel shall so augur? .
What sort of a lady,
Can you recommend me?
The inner pride or outer pure?.

Fair colonus started this time;
The sage of the delicate clime.
“If I cut you a cake,
Assign to you a rake.
Shall I digest the cake you’d piped?

Shall I digest what you’ve eaten,
Aren’t you the eater even?
The tale of marriage,
Is older than proud age.
Cobbling centuries by seven.

Marriage is like a romper
Ripe of wits and fed his father,
Who by the pleasant taste,
Grant his request in haste:
His request to have a lover.

His father taught him ‘to make love',
To stir emotions and such stuffs.
But tis the truth of it,
He will not be with him,
Nor for him, to his love make love.

Marriage is not a meal;
Steamed Bacarroni and lamb steak.
Which I teach you to  cook;
As well be there to look,
And have a taste if good or Ill.

We all can make choices for you,
Sharpen our tongue to have you sooth.
But can’t love her with you,
Nor marry her with you.
For marriage is a pain with rules.

But this cake shall I leave with you,
Be sure you make it your strict rule.
For wisdom’s once fool’s love:
“Take counsel of a friend,
Who’d tread the path thou just commenced “.

“Right! “ “Very true” “Great”, exchanged all.
Then the knights left him to him all.
Thus he bade them farewell,
Of their words to munch well,
And revered the couplet of all.

Thus he made his ever longed search,
For days, weeks, months from year detached.
All maiden proved him right,
Regardless of his sight.
But ‘bove all he revered Natash.

Competitor with sun was her;
Gentle-faced, cherub glow, off scar.
Burning beauty like sun,
Having emotions torn.
Plus a bewitching character.

At this, he called for a wedding,
All the knights to do attending.
For he and dear Natash,
Shall have their vows attached.
And that was done and knights’ leaving.

Many weeks trampled their wedding,
Troubled Natash was lain crying:
“Double plight he did have,
Sight and bad temperance.
The former and latter being twin. “

For whenever she leave for stream,
And arrived later than it seemed.
He methink her a whore,
And utter vexing words,
“You skip after men like a bitch “.

And this had been her strength of  grief,
For her happiness has been ripped,
By his  bad temperance,
His thoughts, and his thought’s glance.
Thus, she spent her sorrow in ease.

She sook her mother for her grief,
Who told her “Fight on a pear tree,
Get the fruit and swift eat,
Then swiftly he shall see.
Be sure ‘fore dawn he go with thee.

And at that  she hastened to home,
Before his marrow crushed his bone.
She said to him in Inn:
“Sooner love, thou will see,
And shall know what form is your home.

‘Fore dawn we shall go to the brook,
Where the pear tree retires too.
The fruit  shall give you sight,
You shall then have less nights.
And our love shall proceed to look.

Though he believed her less and less.
But her admonishing him pressed.
So, they followed the dusk.
At morn, he woke up first.
He woke her next, and have him pressed.

By his hasting she forgot cloth,
And casted  aside her silk robe.
Then they got to the tree,
Next, she swift climbed the tree,
As he bent for her to branch hold.

And as she settled on the tree,
Bent, to cut the pear she did seek.
But then changed the fair pear,
To an handsome fierce heir,
Who contended with her: she wins.

She cut the pear and gave a bite,
At that, the knight regained his sight.
But his sight did irk him:
Her wife's state on the tree:
She was on stripe of the night.

So, he did lambaste his  helper,
And called her sundry Ill letters.
“So this is what thou do,
When my sight I did loose.
Thou art worst than an ill leper”.

Thus, she reclaimed the vexation,
Threw at him,  her  botheration:
“Is this what you will pay;
An enormous disgrace,
For my love and kind oblations?

Isn’t it for thy sake I am thus:
Aren’t you who compelled me by force:
‘Clothings matter not now,
My sight matters more now'.
And after this, you call me thus? “

At thus  was he sour remorseful,
Sweat of regret he bore like pool.
Couldn’t look to her face,
Knew he caused this disgrace.
Remorsefully, he admit he’s rude:

“Dearest of all fairest nature,
My love- surpassing fair nature.
Take these not as you might:
For my sight was my plight.
But I know thee now of wisdom.

O Teren, see what wife you have:
Like the sun in full and in half.
Thy grace of many race,
Thy grace without disgrace.
Oh what fool am I to love half. “

Thus they renewed their worn love bond,
And of themselves were  yonder fond.
For the plight of his sight,
Plough his heart with might.
But are now f'ever in love bound.

***
This tale have you consumed; though  forged.
 I pray it’ll not make your wit purge.
Many of us have plights,
Which may be heart’s  or sight.
Which whispers to all our surge.

Be sure of what plight ensnare thee,
That you do not ensnare,
Your dream, those who’ll help you,
And wrought you f'ever fool.
Natash is in her state for thee.
        18:09:31:16:43