That iridescent image I had known for years
seen it in various guises and learnt its form by heart
know its poetry from the classics under Grecian lights
and when it appeared this time I delve to find its mind
But it was for Papa that the birth of reason grew
in a missive unspoken and a call enveloped later unfurled
a whisper rose that urged, look after for me, I will soon be gone
a king had spoken perchance to a chosen knight now obliged to obey
the ode of times and fleeting sighing sights of the light-footed
in rays of play the child of our times skips boundarys and forts
maidens sing stories and the gallant forays in skirmishes abound
a ringing promise hangs as a willow in wisp claims legacy unknown
tempest swirls and sound in fury rules in chagrin and ardour
a gamekeeper sees a ***** traipsing the trails of Tigers and lions
the tipsy gypsy hears neither the troubadour nor the rites of Templars
a mind envisaged was the shrunken bulb of shrubs and alien foliage
Be it not a dirge or condemnations of seducing Westering gales
banquets laid for differing tastes and jesters jest for mirth and frolics
a wizened once reached out in wordless touch, a promise sailed forth
In deep blue sea a mindful dolphin far from home turns and swims away......
Jul 16, 2019
Jul 16, 2019 at 6:33 AM UTC
That iridescent image I had known for years
seen it in various guises and learnt its form by heart
know its poetry from the classics under Grecian lights
and when it appeared this time I delve to find its mind
But it was for Papa that the birth of reason grew
in a missive unspoken and a call enveloped later unfurled
a whisper rose that urged, look after for me, I will soon be gone
a king had spoken perchance to a chosen knight now obliged to obey
the ode of times and fleeting sighing sights of the light-footed
in rays of play the child of our times skips boundarys and forts
maidens sing stories and the gallant forays in skirmishes abound
a ringing promise hangs as a willow in wisp claims legacy unknown
tempest swirls and sound in fury rules in chagrin and ardour
a gamekeeper sees a ***** traipsing the trails of Tigers and lions
the tipsy gypsy hears neither the troubadour nor the rites of Templars
a mind envisaged was the shrunken bulb of shrubs and alien foliage
Be it not a dirge or condemnations of seducing Westering gales
banquets laid for differing tastes and jesters jest for mirth and frolics
a wizened once reached out in wordless touch, a promise sailed forth
In deep blue sea a mindful dolphin far from home turns and swims away......
