Thread: The Cause of Me

What goes timid in me:
The heart that I so help to beat,
The loins left unconcieved,
Or head filled up with greef?

Were I a lion or tin-man
I'd leap at knowing the road,
Some sort of direction,
Some sort of home,

But being I'm no lion
And miss not heart but hope,
I dable and play my charade:
Words that cannot fill me.

I think I get the gist of this; You (the poem's 'I') are without direction, no desired future in sight and writing this or expressing it, doesn't help neither... at least that's what I got from this.

There were some places where it was a little unclear:

"The loins left unconcieved," --- is this a reference to your woman? If so I think it should be made more clear. If not, then I'm missing out on the meaning.

"But being I'm no lion" --- so you're a tin-man???

"And miss not heart but hope," --- in first stanza I was under the impression that the heart was not working well, metaphorically speaking. That impression changed with this line. Seem like they are out of context with each other...

Typos: greef ('grief' I assume) and dable (you mean 'dabble'?)

Besides this I think the piece read very well, cleverly structured and I liked the title very much - very close to "the curse of me" which given the content as I understood it, it might as well has been.

Interesting read.