Feb 2014
Thomas came from the school of hard facts
No Gradgrind, yet, had slipped through its cracks
A Bounderby born saw light in this day
Believing flowers belong outside with the hay
In Louisa G,
Thoughts would flee
It was clear to see
Just not on bended knee
The girl would gaze towards a flame
Far too majestic to tame
And there hours would disappear
As “Fancy” hesitantly slipped near
A circus of thought
Nine oils bought
*****’s distraught
Isolation caught
Her father left home
A sad clown made to roam
Metaphor in a poem
Lost, no need to atone
A foster child of Logic
There’s no need to frolic
Study enveloped her life
While Louisa became a wife
Married and bound to an age differential
That made her hubby seem quite parental
Thomas had begun new work
Money earned, quite the perk
Then it vanished with great haste
Gambled away like simple waste
His sister, Loo, called to bail
Thomas, who had found life stale
Her few possessions drift away
On donations to her brother’s dismay
Time moves on with little give
Debts build like the weight of a fib
Soon Thomas pleads for far too much,
100 dollars, please rush
Louisa, was completely tapped out
Her brother had broken an ever-flowing spout
He used every penny of the girl’s love
Then drifted, like a fleeting dove.
Her husband, Josiah, sat none the wiser,
Cuddled by the facts of a rude little miser
Then came a parliamentary heart of house,
James snuck in quiet as a mouse.
Mr. Harthouse was a man of great esteem
He came to Coketown on track-lines powered by steam
There he met the wife of a cold little man
And his pursuit of affection began
Lousia had no need for affection
Or for that matter unwanted attention
Yet, as Thomas fell
She thought the notion seemed quite swell
Conversations began with ease
Mr. Harthouse was certainly no ******
Operated amongst the ideas of her school
And even sat earnestly while listening to Stephen Blackpool
…
A servant to no deviant will
And master of a mere peasant’s skill
Stephan spoke in broken phrase
Sentences flowed like a tainted maze
A public speaker the man was not
Still, in front of many, he unraveled a plot
The man spoke with flagrant passion
But, it drifted off in latent fashion
The entirety a man stood casting doubt
Blockading the meager man’s route
Stephan carried on until all was lost
His employment in fact the first major cost.
...unfinished :(
No Gradgrind, yet, had slipped through its cracks
A Bounderby born saw light in this day
Believing flowers belong outside with the hay
In Louisa G,
Thoughts would flee
It was clear to see
Just not on bended knee
The girl would gaze towards a flame
Far too majestic to tame
And there hours would disappear
As “Fancy” hesitantly slipped near
A circus of thought
Nine oils bought
*****’s distraught
Isolation caught
Her father left home
A sad clown made to roam
Metaphor in a poem
Lost, no need to atone
A foster child of Logic
There’s no need to frolic
Study enveloped her life
While Louisa became a wife
Married and bound to an age differential
That made her hubby seem quite parental
Thomas had begun new work
Money earned, quite the perk
Then it vanished with great haste
Gambled away like simple waste
His sister, Loo, called to bail
Thomas, who had found life stale
Her few possessions drift away
On donations to her brother’s dismay
Time moves on with little give
Debts build like the weight of a fib
Soon Thomas pleads for far too much,
100 dollars, please rush
Louisa, was completely tapped out
Her brother had broken an ever-flowing spout
He used every penny of the girl’s love
Then drifted, like a fleeting dove.
Her husband, Josiah, sat none the wiser,
Cuddled by the facts of a rude little miser
Then came a parliamentary heart of house,
James snuck in quiet as a mouse.
Mr. Harthouse was a man of great esteem
He came to Coketown on track-lines powered by steam
There he met the wife of a cold little man
And his pursuit of affection began
Lousia had no need for affection
Or for that matter unwanted attention
Yet, as Thomas fell
She thought the notion seemed quite swell
Conversations began with ease
Mr. Harthouse was certainly no ******
Operated amongst the ideas of her school
And even sat earnestly while listening to Stephen Blackpool
…
A servant to no deviant will
And master of a mere peasant’s skill
Stephan spoke in broken phrase
Sentences flowed like a tainted maze
A public speaker the man was not
Still, in front of many, he unraveled a plot
The man spoke with flagrant passion
But, it drifted off in latent fashion
The entirety a man stood casting doubt
Blockading the meager man’s route
Stephan carried on until all was lost
His employment in fact the first major cost.
...unfinished :(
