Thy lance of love 'twas thrust-ed
deeply within each chamber of me heart.
Upon me soul thou pennant flies.
I swear ye art Gods' gift, sweet
as grape wine thy kisses
touching places unspeakable.
Rap softly on me window three times.
Arouse thy King not, DA 'twill squash thee
abandon thyself Sir to quietude. Or suffer
a wicked foot to thy knickers me lass.
Author notes
Word bank:
lance thurst-ed chamber
pennant swear grape
squash wicked knickers
and lass.
A contest entry
- Wild Word Bank - 10/10/20 by Gypsie Ink.
450 points, ended April 28, 2008, 15 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
Wonderful
I love the old language use! A most enchanting write. A romantic at heart.
Thank you for your entry and Best of luck in the contest. -
Well, you used'em all, and told a story of...secret?...love as well. Very nicely done, Dove, and good luck in the contest.
I love you,
Brazos
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