I Fear This May Be Curse, That Dead Vikings Sing
I Fear This May Be Curse, That Dead Vikings Sing
Who believes it will come one fine-bred day
Not a beautiful queen but a beauty
A doll, a great dame, one with newborn hope
Could she be a princess that fled away?
His heart and soul said yes she surely is
Her body is ravishing, so purely true
Those sexy eyes this tender heart hurts so
She so brilliant, brainiac on a quiz.
Why does this fear enter this aching brain
Is my lurking ghost yet again speaking
O' no, those words are terrible to hear
Speak not spirit, I cannot bear the pain
Now I know laying here in these black chains
She is curse that splinters harvested grain!
Pray I not, this is accursed wrecking dream
The one where I drown in the falling rain!
That ends when she makes that venomous sting.
I fear this may be curse, that dead Vikings sing.
Robert J. Lindley, Rhyme
April 9th,, 1979
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment