The Converse of Discourse
This is a very old poem that I wrote for maybe my second bardic competition every? Gaze upon young Talia's failure to understand meter and dispair! I believe this is rockin' a loose attempt at ballad meter. She was #spittintruththo
When once I went a-walking,
Upon an autumn eve,
I heard a group there talking,
A baker, carl, and reeve.
I thought that I would join them,
And spread my wisdom's seed,
To grow upon a noble stem,
Common understanding.
An urge no man can condemn,
But praise for expanding,
The sweet accord between all men.
Rough would prove the landing,
For but little did I ken,
The thorns that line a tongue,
The resemblance to a hen,
A man takes when he's stung,
Who pecks and pecks all day til
He has not breath in lung,
But yet has eaten not his fill
Of turmoil and the strife,
Of voices growing thin and shrill.
He takes dissent to wife,
Between them both worry down,
The meanest bits of life.
Sweat beading high upon his crown,
The baker swears a thing
That gives the reeve the blackest frown.
False charge he's swift to bring,
Quick counts against his dear old friend.
Entering now the ring,
Comes the carl with words to lend,
And quites none did request.
Then came I with thought to mend,
And for my pains was blest,
With an invocation to,
My mother in her nest,
Sure she was a harpy true,
For none else could have taught
The nonsense that I spew.
The things I say are fraught,
With error and outright lie.
No doubt I have been caught,
Having congress with a pie!
My wife loose, my son bad,
My house a wretched sty,
I an unfeeling cad,
Fast to judge and slow of wit.
I was a dullard lad,
Who grew to be a twit,
Too dumb to know my plight,
But think my word a holy writ.
These things I learned that night,
And more yet I did not know,
About myself, poor wight,
Ill favored and born to woe.
By now all the village,
Joined us in sport of jest and crow,
Converse masking spillage
Of unrestrained opinion.
No man was spared pillage,
Not highborn lord nor his minion,
Issues your own affair,
Were everyone's dominion!
Began without a care
Discorse discord swift became
Subtle word-built snare,
A tempest black of petty blame,
Born of ire burning hot.
From whence this anger came,
In truth, I still know not.
A wiser man, now I can see,
Intent fair counts for naught.
Silent it is best to be.
God knows, I meant so well!
When comes converse privily,
Let them talk their way to hell,
I'll keep my own counsel.