Many Brides
Many Brides
The mind remembers many brides,
Of love an hurt an suicide,
Of how I went away and died,
In battle for the empire.
A hundred ladies took her place,
Not all were beautiful of face,
Loyalty counted at that place,
Axe murdered, then I died.
To hold the gaze of perfect Gwen,
Denied her hand, we’d meet again
Be caught an banished, but still then,
She was another’s bride.
Another death, another time,
Sweetest beauty, red, red wine,
Atlantis, such a lovely clime,
Tar pit I got fried.
The cave of Og, when thunder clapped,
Slapped down her father, whack,
Caught her up, when I got slapped,
Bit me jugular, death it got to ride.
Gwen returned another time,
Free woman, estacy divine,
Infatuation was my crime,
Yet death was very snide,
Yet again I died.
To never quite hold a tune,
Encapsulate a dull buffoon,
To never quite make the maidens swoon,
Ironic the frustration…
Don Johnson
Copyright © Don Johnson | Year Posted 2012
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