Guinevere
Was King Arthur's darling dear,
Once day, she said, "I'm sorry M'Lord,
I gave your nephew, Mordred, your sword".
Mordred was not a man one should entrust.
King Arthur was a bit more than nonplussed.
Guinevere said, "Don't sweat it",
But the king would regret it,
As the weasel dispatched him with a thrust.
The Knights of the Round Table all missed him and cried -
Were Lancelot and Guinivere sorry he died?
Well, Sir Lance furrowed his handsome brow, and said "heck,
We should legislate a sword control background check."
Quincerra queen of the white horse had a full load today
But she made an exception when she heard of the lost foal.
She said, I can easily tackle my list of have-to-dos another day.
For being the savior of the white horses was her ultimate goal.
Lancelot, the white horse, was thrilled to meet his queen.
He knew she was a favorite human of his Uncle Benign
He noted that she was full of kindness, and never mean.
He asked to be her steed from then until the end of time.
I would love that, she told him but let me ask Norse from Lincolnshire.
That would be okay, Lancelot agreed, hoping it would work out.
Norse was her present steed, a wonderful horse who wanted to retire.
Quincerra and Lancelot were happy together, and gave a glorious shout.
It was at first glance.
That I took a chance,
Had whirlwind romance,
And fell for Lance.
Who was from France.
He asked me to Dance,
Then put me in a trance.
Next I started to prance,
A weird circumstance.
He said he did freelance,
And needed a cash advance;
Was it all happenstance;
that he asked about finance?
Alexis Y.
11/20/2020
what a
pen is
without
a word
what a
night is
without
her
King Arthur wants to dance
But Lancelot brought his lance
The King could only prance
Jousting only because of the kings pleas,
lanced once too often feeling apathy,
drinking from cup,
holes sprung much,
feeling like a piece of holey swiss cheese.
11-14-16
My hero of late is my son, Lance.
He's nearly eight years old.
No one can tell him who he is.
My son, you see, already knows.
When others seek to change him,
He clings firmly to his way.
He's not afraid to be himself,
No matter what you'd say.
He's not bound by conformity
He's not hindered by your thought
He likes pink and he likes dresses
he plays with sisters toys a lot.
He wants to be a cop someday.
He wants to be a teacher, too.
To marry one of several girlfriends,
that he met at school.
He's sweet and he is sensitive
He's got a heart of gold.
He'd never leave a fellow friendless
or homeless in the cold.
I know these things with deep conviction.
His compassion is his guide.
He'll be the sort of loving man,
a wife needs by her side.
Of all the things my son may be,
and those that he may not.
I'm proud to call myself his father.
He is Arthur, he is Galahad, and Lancelot.
In the garbage lilies may bloom
Yet in its odor will always loom
Faint traces of its abused past
Wounds may fade but traces last
Had heaven pity on this fool
And struck her down dead where she lay
That she did not see another day
Mourned in loss and wasted away
If I tore out these eyes of mine
And blinded to the sight divine
That caught my eyes, I will not sin
By yearning love not mine to keep
When I first tasted love’s venom
How enflamed passions burnt anew
Love pulsed through my soul, a fiery hue
Yet overcomes now solemn Fate,
I am innocent no more.
I will ne’er be what I was before
I depart now, wretched heart
From the remainders of my waste
In hopes that in my death regain
What love I sought and sought in vain
Your lady fair sure owns your heart
Yet your remorse mine for evermore
In the shadows I will meet thee
In your darkest hours to greet thee
Midst deadly silence, fancies free me
Whisper, but my name, you’ll see me…
Little Lucy Lancelot lunching on an apricot,
Looking like a lovely London lady.
Bully Billy Ballantine wants to be her valentine,
But Lucy loves the goodly Graham Grady.
Lancelot left his friend sir kay snoring
Took his garment and he wore
He rode into the woods singing
He saw a glade and the quartet as they swore
The quartet,loitering in power thought it was sir kay
Sir Sagramour charged at lancelot, they clashed
Lancelot stood and was down in disgust
Ector carelessly proceeded to him, but was slashed
The third,Sir Uwaine panicked, he looked in distrust
with the failure of othershe was encourage to play
He moved, lancelot knew him well he fell like an eagle
Finally Sir Gawaine clashed with lancelot Gawaine's spear melted
His horse reversed upside down and he fell into the jungle
The four Sirs condoled them selves until they discovered.
It was lancelot not Sir Kay, the knight full of sorrow couldn't rise up from the clay
You have took what was mine
and to you I feel it fine
for I do not sit and tarry
on the past that makes us werry.
But that lady in whom you trust
may fill you head with hate and lust
So be careful of that Guinevere
It took me only but a year
To find the pain that lies in her
to find the end, you must concur
That in the end I needed her most
but I had to banish her ghost
Now in your days with love
Treat her well and do not shove
So she may treat you well with all her breath
because, I Arthur, proclaim her death.
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