Nicholas Bradvica Poetry

Art thou not what thy seem,
Lost in all my humble dreams,
Or art thou not heavenly,
But be thy simple name,
Where hath thou find,
The beasts so tame,
And love so blind,
And yet thou hath brought shame,
To all mankind,
I love thee tenderly,

Now with thy crime,
Thou cursed all time,
And hath yet my children maimed,
Yet thy gentle curves,
And innocent smile,
Calm the nerves,
Within me while,
The purpose serves,
To thy denial,
And yet thee art not blamed,

The fruit which hath thee tasted,
Hath not been so duly wasted,
For thy sin against me is not yet complete,
But time shall tell,
Of mankind’s fate,
Is it hell,
That thou await,
Only God knows well,
If you hath ate,
The fruit of His deceit,

And still I yearn for thy lips,
Where hath evil surely drips,
And yet I cannot seem to pull away,
For with thy curse,
Came about,
Another verse,
Which art devout,
So which is worse,
A life without,
Eden or dismay?

Poet: Nicholas Bradvica