Lost In Translation

Nannies who care for the young:

Most likely have no children or

perhaps they do

but passion is what drives them into this honourable profession

The golden reign of a king: who thrives without reluctant feet,

abate the concerns of the people,

may end up as the foe of this suburban, our community



With shinningness across the east

a bar in the back

and a piecemeal to divide:

told in words by my grandmother

Thursdays like to come as a hither

and thither stirred through a terrific dither

but still the ghost letters in pencil seem to be anonymous with what really

happened, or perhaps were the discarnate minds lost in their meditative silence as they witnessed

the mists of the dawns in those battles ?




‘A parody of singlemindedness’ deepened in bold Italics,

bright as snowcrust in the thirteenth

chapter, paragraph four, line eight

might further explain this mystery assessment, just as I chanced upon,

yet no obvious account

The elders of Colonus

And the old men of Thebes could judge

such umbrageous trail in such a glacial time without third-conscience

Nannies could have told these words in gentlest tones what really transpired, had they been there…

Perhaps they were..



My grandmother said to me, ‘in that century , kerchieves of linen were as

common as the skies above us and the only attuned myth was that the fields

were always greener at the other side of the fence

But I noted that day,as she told me this very history in parables, nostalgic tone of remembrance was that

when the last tree dies, the last man dies



The almost fully gracious reigns of these present kings then seemed never

to rival what my grandmother & nanny saw as the clock persisted

And the sort of blizzard that strikes my bloodstream when I saw once again that deepened bold Italic inscription in chapter twelve, paragraph two, line one

I was sure that the writers were certainly lost in translation


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