"swain" poems
by
rgpage
in this late hour on a mid-august night
the day's torturous heat now just a trace.
with heaven's dark sky splattered star light bright
and with the moon's help, how they now illuminate.
naked to the night on a blanket she waits
from a crystal flute she sips her wine.
its acrid taste makes her body brace,
and her silky skin to shine.
our lady awaits anticipates the night of love to be,
she's made her nest in secluded style
away from prying eyes, alone in the night
she patiently waits for her lover to arrive.
her warm body bathes in the evening breeze
eyes closed she lets her fingers roam,
her half-erect ******* she'll gently squeeze
'til engorged with blood they flush fully grown.
laying a hand to her most sensitive spot
the cradle of life's onset if you will,
her first finger eases itself into place,
and deftly a second does follow.
slowly and softly in clockwise rotation
wishing it were her lover's trace;
the effect was good with her hip's gentle motion
her soul now wrapped in silk and lace.
with quiet stealth on an old forest path
her mate breaks out of the tall trees cover,
spotting his sensual prey's silhouette
naked and silent he slips toward his lover.
feeling his presents her eyes slightly open
towering above her as tall as the trees,
she sees her muscular handsome young swain
in time to see him drop to his knees.
leaning in he gives her soft kiss'
his hand tracks her ******* with a gentle lover's mirth,
slowly and gently he brings her along, with a
touch as soft as a feather's fall to earth.
reaching forth and touching his face
and gently pulling him down to her lips,
they lightly touch then drift apart
as he makes his way to her ******* and hips.
the time is not urgent there's no wasted efforts,
every inch of her skin he greets with a kiss,
as a hungry lion studies his prey
not a single sound made, nor morsel missed.
seductively firm he leads her to ******
she honors his every wish and whim.
knowing his every move leads to pleasure
from pleasure to rapture time and again.
as the moon crosses over making way for the day,
and the star's disappear in the sun's early light.
our lady awakens alone where she lay
her mysterious lover is gone with the night…
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 12:00 PM UTC
Why Damon, why, why, why so pressing?
The Heart you beg's not worth possessing:
Each Look, each Word, each Smile's affected,
And inward Charms are quite neglected:
Then scorn her, scorn her, foolish Swain,
And sigh no more, no more in vain.
Beauty's worthless, fading, flying;
Who would for Trifles think of dying?
Who for a Face, a Shape, wou'd languish,
And tell the Brooks, and Groves his Anguish,
Till she, till she thinks fit to prize him,
And all, and all beside despise him?
Fix, fix your Thoughts on what's inviting,
On what will never bear the slighting:
Wit and Virtue claim your Duty,
They're much more worth that Gold and Beauty:
To them, to them, your Heart resign,
And you'll no more, no more repine.
3.9k
A pearl mansion, three stories tall
Soaring on a halcyon hill.
A stretched view to read the world.
A throne with riches to fill.
The comfort of a swain.
But carnality in silence
An everlasting reserve of cake.
A bottomless appetite in defiance.
A quail in a cage, the keys in her hand.
To pluck the plume languidly.
A daffodil to determine fate:
“I love him. I love him not.”
To spoil their fly,
To reap their fall.
Their loyalty hazily sewn
In grounds of her royal hall.
Heels encased in crystals of tears.
To lien their names
And shine her shoes
Perched high on a golden bluff.
To shutter her windows
On cloudy days.
To be a star in the night
Despite the moon’s wane.
Eternal seasons of the self.
To watch feathers move
Without the burden of wind.
The quietude of stillness but to fill the void.
To reign solely as a dreary majesty.
To kiss and then walk astray.
Or perhaps earnest denial
To pacify the pain.
Sep 29, 2021
Sep 29, 2021 at 11:07 AM UTC
1
Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine,
Unwind the solemn twine, and tie my Valentine!
Oh the Earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain,
For sighing, and gentle whispering, and unity made of twain.
All things do go a courting, in earth, or sea, or air,
God hath made nothing single but thee in His world so fair!
The bride, and then the bridegroom, the two, and then the one,
Adam, and Eve, his consort, the moon, and then the sun;
The life doth prove the precept, who obey shall happy be,
Who will not serve the sovereign, be hanged on fatal tree.
The high do seek the lowly, the great do seek the small,
None cannot find who seeketh, on this terrestrial ball;
The bee doth court the flower, the flower his suit receives,
And they make merry wedding, whose guests are hundred leaves;
The wind doth woo the branches, the branches they are won,
And the father fond demandeth the maiden for his son.
The storm doth walk the seashore humming a mournful tune,
The wave with eye so pensive, looketh to see the moon,
Their spirits meet together, they make their solemn vows,
No more he singeth mournful, her sadness she doth lose.
The worm doth woo the mortal, death claims a living bride,
Night unto day is married, morn unto eventide;
Earth is a merry damsel, and heaven a knight so true,
And Earth is quite coquettish, and beseemeth in vain to sue.
Now to the application, to the reading of the roll,
To bringing thee to justice, and marshalling thy soul:
Thou art a human solo, a being cold, and lone,
Wilt have no kind companion, thou reap’st what thou hast sown.
Hast never silent hours, and minutes all too long,
And a deal of sad reflection, and wailing instead of song?
There’s Sarah, and Eliza, and Emeline so fair,
And Harriet, and Susan, and she with curling hair!
Thine eyes are sadly blinded, but yet thou mayest see
Six true, and comely maidens sitting upon the tree;
Approach that tree with caution, then up it boldly climb,
And seize the one thou lovest, nor care for space, or time!
Then bear her to the greenwood, and build for her a bower,
And give her what she asketh, jewel, or bird, or flower—
And bring the fife, and trumpet, and beat upon the drum—
And bid the world Goodmorrow, and go to glory home!
3.6k
Charlie Chaplin, set the pace
Buster Keaton, old stone face
Groucho and the brothers Marx
Margaret Dumont for some sparks
Harold Lloyd, The Brothers Ritz
Did I mention Zazu Pitts?
Stan and Ollie, Keystone Cops
Chases that just wouldn't stop
The Stooges, Larry, Curly, Moe
and then theres Shemp and Curly Joe
Bing and Bob, and Dean and Jerry
Two could sing, while two made merry
Bud and Lou and who's on first?
Harry Langdon and Charlie Chase
I think who is on first base
Mabel Normand and Mack Swain
Always tied before the train
Pie fights, slapstick in black and white
This was when we laughed all night
Mack Sennet, Roach, and Our Gang
Spanky and Alfalfa sang
Words were twisted, spun and turned
People splashed and others burned
Remember back to days of yore
To when they had you on the floor
Rembember Baby Rose Marie
She started at the age of three
Many more could make the list
For many I know that I missed
Make 'em laugh and take a pie
Get sprayed with seltzer in the eye
Go and watch their films again
So comedy will always reign
Thank you to the funny folk
Who taught us how to take a joke....
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
Ach so! thou much-praised and lauded Milwaukee,
Thou delightful Wisconsin Stadt of boundless pulchritude,
Verily hath History endowed thy blessed name
With the noisomely beery breath of immortality!
And thank the benign Almighty in highest Heav’n
That thy delectable streets and arboreal squares
Doth remain heretofore untouched by unseemly civic strife,
Despite thy renown as veritable midwife to Sewer Socialism!
Yet, tear-inducing recollections have I of this dwelling-place
And herewith followeth heart-rending remembrances
Of what transpired when I inveigled a plump young Mädchen there
For a brief sojourn of untrammelled concupiscence.
Alas, alack, after gorging her impetuous appetites
On a gargantuan repast of mitteleuropäische delicacies,
Methinks her poor heart gave up survival’s uneven battle
And, warbling a soft piffero-reminiscent sigh, she expired.
‘Twas too tragic thus to depart this happy welkin in mid-prandials,
Emitting a final flatus, sweet adieu, from her rearmost aperture,
Leaving me, her poor forlorn swain, bereft and solitary,
Faced with mine host’s request for instant monetary rendition.
From that naughty place of my bereavement fled I,
Clutching to my ***** the contents of her silken purse,
Determined to partake in untrammelled ***** licence elsewhere,
Ere the chanticleer’s dawn croak wake the inebriated citizens.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
Body LOSING MY MIND....
It feels like up rises of sun,
Feel like the is moon hot ,
All I'm thinking about is to jot,
Babe I'm kinda losing my mind,
I feel like I have smoke coffee,
Just going lunatic,
It is so hectic,
I feel like I have to pay fee.
My my I'm losing mind,
I just can't comprehend,
I'm falling to understand,
All I can say is losing my mind,
You are so Attractive,
Within a second I become lost,
Lost in your mind,
I just don't understand ,
I feel like shade,
Roaming around,
Thinking about pound,
Please come over,
I picture you,
I love you,
I'm falling for you,
Losing my mind over you.
Yeah losing myself,
Finding myself to you,
You such an lover,
I'm your davey.
I'm losing my mind over you,
I just want you,
Your such an swain,
You blow away my pain.
I'm feeling Enchanted,
I'm so delighted,
You drove me crazy,
Know that I'm losing my mind over you...
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 7:02 PM UTC
What boots it, thy virtue,
What profit thy parts,
While one thing thou lackest,
The art of all arts!
The only credentials,
Passport to success,
Opens castle and parlor,—
Address, man, Address.
The maiden in danger
Was saved by the swain,
His stout arm restored her
To Broadway again:
The maid would reward him,—
Gay company come,—
They laugh, she laughs with them,
He is moonstruck and dumb.
This clenches the bargain,
Sails out of the bay,
Gets the vote in the Senate,
Spite of Webster and Clay;
Has for genius no mercy,
For speeches no heed,—
It lurks in the eyebeam,
It leaps to its deed.
Church, tavern, and market,
Bed and board it will sway;
It has no to-morrow,
It ends with to-day.
2.5k
the sweetest thing - come over
got some wind to cool it down
i’ll have what you’re having, the sweetest thing.
swayer keep swayin’/lover keep loving’/player you player, don’t keep playin’.
the sweetest thing - come over
got some chill to calm you down
you’ll have what i’m giving, the sweetest thing.
swayer keep swayin’/lover keep lovin’/player you player, stop playin’ me.
the sweetest thing - come over
got some game to wear you down
we’ll get what we’re wantin’, the sweetest thing.
the sweetest thing, keep swain’
the sweetest thing, keep loving’
the sweetest thing, keep playin’, keep playin’
get nothin’
~rachael hays 17A15
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 12:33 PM UTC
Fair lovely Maid, or if that Title be
Too weak, too Feminine for Nobler thee,
Permit a Name that more Approaches Truth:
And let me call thee, Lovely Charming Youth.
This last will justifie my soft complaint,
While that may serve to lessen my constraint;
And without Blushes I the Youth persue,
When so much beauteous Woman is in view.
Against thy Charms we struggle but in vain
With thy deluding Form thou giv'st us pain,
While the bright Nymph betrays us to the Swain.
In pity to our *** sure thou wer't sent,
That we might Love, and yet be Innocent:
For sure no Crime with thee we can commit;
Or if we shou'd - thy Form excuses it.
For who, that gathers fairest Flowers believes
A Snake lies hid beneath the Fragrant Leaves.
Though beauteous Wonder of a different kind,
Soft Cloris with the dear Alexis join'd;
When e'er the Manly part of thee, wou'd plead
Though tempts us with the Image of the Maid,
While we the noblest Passions do extend
The Love to Hermes, Aphrodite the Friend.v
1.9k
The big teetotum twirls,
And epochs wax and wane
As chance subsides or swirls;
But of the loss and gain
The sum is always plain.
Read on the mighty pall,
The **** of funeral
That covers praise and blame,
The -isms and the -anities,
Magnificence and shame:--
"O Vanity of Vanities!"
The Fates are subtle girls!
They give us chaff for grain.
And Time, the Thunderer, hurls,
Like bolted death, disdain
At all that heart and brain
Conceive, or great or small,
Upon this earthly ball.
Would you be knight and dame?
Or woo the sweet humanities?
Or illustrate a name?
O Vanity of Vanities!
We sound the sea for pearls,
Or drown them in a drain;
We flute it with the merles,
Or tug and sweat and strain;
We grovel, or we reign;
We saunter, or we brawl;
We search the stars for Fame,
Or sink her subterranities;
The legend's still the same:--
"O Vanity of Vanities!"
Here at the wine one birls,
There some one clanks a chain.
The flag that this man furls
That man to float is fain.
Pleasure gives place to pain:
These in the kennel crawl,
While others take the wall.
She has a glorious aim,
He lives for the inanities.
What come of every claim?
O Vanity of Vanities!
Alike are clods and earls.
For sot, and seer, and swain,
For emperors and for churls,
For antidote and bane,
There is but one refrain:
But one for king and thrall,
For David and for Saul,
For fleet of foot and lame,
For pieties and profanities,
The picture and the frame:--
"O Vanity of Vanities!"
Life is a smoke that curls--
Curls in a flickering skein,
That winds and whisks and whirls,
A figment thin and vain,
Into the vast Inane.
One end for hut and hall!
One end for cell and stall!
Burned in one common flame
Are wisdoms and insanities.
For this alone we came:--
"O Vanity of Vanities!"
Envoy
Prince, pride must have a fall.
What is the worth of all
Your state's supreme urbanities?
Bad at the best's the game.
Well might the Sage exclaim:--
"O Vanity of Vanities!"
1.6k
Blessed, yet sinful one, and broken-hearted!
The crowd are pointing at the thing forlorn,
In wonder and in scorn!
Thou weepest days of innocence departed;
Thou weepest, and thy tears have power to move
The Lord to pity and love.
The greatest of thy follies is forgiven,
Even for the least of all the tears that shine
On that pale cheek of thine.
Thou didst kneel down, to Him who came from heaven,
Evil and ignorant, and thou shalt rise
Holy, and pure, and wise.
It is not much that to the fragrant blossom
The ragged brier should change; the bitter fir
Distil Arabian myrrh!
Nor that, upon the wintry desert's *****
The harvest should rise plenteous, and the swain
Bear home the abundant grain.
But come and see the bleak and barren mountains
Thick to their tops with roses: come and see
Leaves on the dry dead tree:
The perished plant, set out by living fountains,
Grows fruitful, and its beauteous branches rise,
For ever, towards the skies.
1.6k
The big teetotum twirls,
And epochs wax and wane
As chance subsides or swirls;
But of the loss and gain
The sum is always plain.
Read on the mighty pall,
The **** of funeral
That covers praise and blame,
The--isms and the--anities,
Magnificence and shame:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'
The Fates are subtile girls!
They give us chaff for grain.
And Time, the Thunderer, hurls,
Like bolted death, disdain
At all that heart and brain
Conceive, or great or small,
Upon this earthly ball.
Would you be knight and dame?
Or woo the sweet humanities?
Or illustrate a name?
O Vanity of Vanities!
We sound the sea for pearls,
Or drown them in a drain;
We flute it with the merles,
Or tug and sweat and strain;
We grovel, or we reign;
We saunter, or we brawl;
We answer, or we call;
We search the stars for Fame,
Or sink her subterranities;
The legend's still the same:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'
Here at the wine one birls,
There some one clanks a chain.
The flag that this man furls
That man to float is fain.
Pleasure gives place to pain:
These in the kennel crawl,
While others take the wall.
She has a glorious aim,
He lives for the inanities.
What comes of every claim?
O Vanity of Vanities!
Alike are clods and earls.
For sot, and seer, and swain,
For emperors and for churls,
For antidote and bane,
There is but one refrain:
But one for king and thrall,
For David and for Saul,
For fleet of foot and lame,
For pieties and profanities,
The picture and the frame:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'
Life is a smoke that curls--
Curls in a flickering skein,
That winds and whisks and whirls
A figment thin and vain,
Into the vast Inane.
One end for hut and hall!
One end for cell and stall!
Burned in one common flame
Are wisdoms and insanities.
For this alone we came:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'
Envoy
Prince, pride must have a fall.
What is the worth of all
Your state's supreme urbanities?
Bad at the best's the game.
Well might the Sage exclaim:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'
1.6k
We don't see eye to eye much.
You got plenty of opinions.
You frustrate the hell out of me.
You tell me truth I don't like.
You feisty and you tell it like it is.
For the hell of it I like to tease you.
I want to spank your *** sometimes.
Not a brutal beating but a tap or two.
I do that I know I get my *** beat
by bro Swain and company.
Debating with you gets me going.
You **** me off when you right.
Admitting I like it when you right.
I can't get mad at you or stay mad
because you adorable like a kitten.
I feel cared about when you set me straight.
Betty Ponder you are like that last piece of
delicious pie my mom said I can't have when
I was a kid.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 9:06 AM UTC
naked,
underneath snow that falls,
like a dead waltzer,
like you and your shaking self.
naked ,
where snow melts around bones that break,
knees that shake.
and a voice that refuses to speak.
naked,
laid out to rest,
cede to the crackling frost;
frost like a galaxy,
the same galaxy, crafted and stitched into your ice-born skin,
into your glacier eyes.
naked,
starved,
a suicidal dreamer,
trying to touch the stars,
the begging, arctic moon -
trying to touch anything
but her anorexic, marbled form.
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 5:46 PM UTC
i.
Mine doting of thou,
Is not wilting amour;
Mine love is more
Then floating, outside
Thy door.
ii.
Even in mine woe,
And caging dolor;
I shouteth thy name,
"Sweet jane' mine girl.
iii.
Whilst even in mine
Suffering, and the
Battle I'm in; with
Satan and his lackey's,
I wilt step upon them.
With thy help, and God's
Discipline, Jane O' Jane,
I'll soareth to the highest
Apex, mine plume's to expand,
Wing's to stretch; Yahweh's mighty
Word, to push them back to the gates of death.
iv.
So mine Jane,
I telleth thou this;
I'm not losing amour,
Nor am I tenderness.
I'm in the stage, of trans-
Figuration, O' soon queen,
We shalt meet in blissfulness,
Beautiful apparition's. Ghost's of
Old, ancient soul's, we'll tasteth
Cascade's of mezmerdade; bralishas
Of barinthia, thitherward the province of
Ourn holy one, next to El Shaddai, meaning
Elohim, also Jehovah, mine Jane and honey-
Bee. Aside the Almighty's throne, And elevated
Seat, his son Jesus Christ on the right- garbed
In robes that floweth with the vim of life. As there
Shalt be none need for the sun or moon, the creator's
Ourn light. A place that's right, wherein there art none wrong's,
Ourn sin's art forgotten within the angelic song's, these song's wilt be sung, on a basis of eternity; none ending, just befriending of the saint's at God's feet. Wisdom shalt be deep, from the beginning of ages, none more false prophet's nor greedy men to ruin the nation's, Concord within ourn Lord shalt follow the month's, as Jane, mine swain, it wilt be in this time's happening;
It's still thee I shalt want. So hold on tightly, don't let loose of mine hand, we'll trounce these dark bearers, and pour holy oil upon their head's, None more wilt they torture us, as they'll flee instead, before of ourn Lord, Jesus Christ, the risen, the man, the son of God, ourn protection, whom hath arisen from the dead.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 9:39 PM UTC
I smile to the sound of her voice,
yet grimace to the waves of her choice,
that may wash away this swain.
I miss the sight of her smile,
but hold a fear all the while,
as I try to build my sand castle again.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 7:45 AM UTC
Some swain art twain
Though we art sole;
Some liveth on sand,
Ourn foundation's
Whole.
Some swain art lost
To temporal sight;
Though ourn birth's
Were matched, to
Meeteth in light.
Burst's that trickled,
Out from divinity,
Christ's foreordained-
Eachother to greet.
Strap's upon toes
Dirt to ourn feet;
Off the planet-
démodé; to
Those who
Hath gold
For safe
Keeps.
Remote from another,
By the blue polluted
Welkin; thus one day
We knoweth, ourn
Pinion's shalt be
As falcon's.
Splitting general edicts,
Trusting in God's rule;
Dying to the globe-
Blithe and mellow
Fool's.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
'Neath the Willows, cloaked in brume,
as streams the night time a deepening.
Enshrouding all in shadows womb,
I espy true loves awakening.
Eve tide slumber found a youth,
within the mead, where I do dwell.
Wont was I, to bespell, forsooth,
tis truly, one thing I do well.
Mazed, stands young swain, aside his bay,
embracing nymph, of flaxen hair.
Bedewed, were eyes, by impish fay,
for it be a swine, he holds there.
Of deep laughter, I do partake.
As disenthralled, young swain awakes.
Oct 12, 2010
Oct 12, 2010 at 6:11 PM UTC
****** *******
Verily, thou art.
If thine own charms woulds't not deliquesce my pow'rs,
mayhaps my quill
woulds't obey my
commands...
Yet ~ evermore ~ am I slave
to thy smirks
and provocations
...both vexations to me.
I turn 'round,
but come back
time again.
(Provoking my ire.)
Thou
knave.
Rogue.
****** *******
Thou've been a naughty swain.
Get thee to my rooms.
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
I could have been this and I could been have that,
But there were too many hurdles and the plans fell flat.
I could have been like her, a very big star,
But my bad luck, opportunities were few and far.
I had the grace; I could have been a dancer,
But there were too many objections with no solutions or answers.
I had a sweet voice; I could have been a singer,
But I was sole earner of family, and it sponged me dry like a wringer.
I played so well with colours, I could have been a painter,
But the paints were costly and with no one to guide, dreams became fainter.
I had skills; I could have been anything I wanted,
All I needed was a spirit which would have saved me from being daunted.
Is it too late to start again?
Pick up the brush or the pen and let my dreams be my swain?
Just let go of all resentments and start!
And not let the past tear my present and future apart!
It has been so tiring, carrying disappointments and resentments for so long,
Let me start fresh as if I was born today, fire the passion and let it grow strong.
Yes, that's what I will do, I owe it to myself and this god gifted life,
I will not cry over what I didn't get, instead use gift and opportunities which today are rife.
Yes, that’s the way to go;
I will give my best shot to my dreams
and what I always wanted to be,
For if the world ends tomorrow
I will be contented and proud
to have taken that dip
and rescued me.
Jul 15, 2011
Jul 15, 2011 at 4:53 AM UTC
Someone has cut off my hands, not that it caused any pain.
Look upon me, a proud man’s daughter, enjoy then what remains.
My eyes will stare into your soul. My lips bear the trace of smile.
My portrait has lent immortality to this woman who never had child..
I was both a wife and a lover, this painting was made for my swain,
But he had both a wife and a mistress. In Florence he couldn’t remain.
In me you will see light and darkness. Sadness is there in my eyes.
My family has made me an older man’s bride; my circumstance breeds my disguise.
Feb 2, 2019
Feb 2, 2019 at 5:49 PM UTC
parallel sympathy endeavor
peaceful and untroubled
achieve ballerina twists
comforting serenity
pull a fast one on
elixir sip sucker stiff
tiny hornswoggle mulct
grandfather clock rich rock
chimney chalk ziggy pop
sirius kid dolls cudi feet tall
artists whirl revolution vet
wolf convincing sheep curve
non believers starting flames
horrid instant ways even livid
fears queen fairy dust spiral
wick gladness warlock king
abide nostrum wake flesh
archangel passion feans
world web crack addicts
mankind teach nine
nail soundness round
raiden uppercut fortify illegitimate
swine heedless being being beaten
headless ***** eyes hub pivot
nerve endings eager enthusiasm hitch
pitch outermost central swain free gist
intrigue archbishop market black illicit
red hot chili peppers implicate explicit
inundating problematic seniority cast
systems hook boom haze tomb prune
embrace bravehearts impale in arms
side by side shield elastic coats grace
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 8:19 PM UTC
In-between thy waking hours and sweet sleep,
May thee know, I'll always crave thee near.
Like a Shepherd doth crave nearing his sheep
Or like an ardent drinker to his beer.
Despite that our love was but love in vain,
You're like the cat that ate the canary.
But may thee know for I was but a swain,
Thus my love, safe grains in a granary.
In my heart, thee perdurably linger
Despite having thee back is but forlorn,
To no other lady I'll point my finger
But long for thy love, every night and morn.
So, in-between thy sleep and waking hours,
May thee know my love shall never sour!
©Kikodinho Alexandros
17th September 2016
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 9:07 PM UTC
A tale of a lady in waiting.....
Emily did speed dating,
For her swain she is waiting,
Emily, anticipating,
Hopes fantasising,
Are her nuptials nearing?
Is today that diamond appearing?
Shall she have a solitaire ring?
Preceding her white wedding?
Now her swain is appearing,
He has a burning question,
She waits for his suggestion,
She's the lady in waiting,
Is her swain proposing?
"Emily, Emily, Emily,"
He sighs, heavily,
"Here is my question burning,
I ask my soul's deep yearning,"
Emily waits for a diamond ring,
"Emily, Emily, Emily,"
Swain whispers breathily,
The lady is waiting....
"Can you marinate chicken wings?"
"Emily, Emily, Emily,"
He yells angrily,
"That's rude, how crude!
That's the last time I see you!"
Now her own wings she is marinading,
Does she resume speed dating?
Does Emily ever stop dreaming?
Solitaire ring anticipating,
The lady is waiting,
The lady is waiting,
And waiting, and waiting, and waiting............
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC