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."
All those dancers and cheerleaders
Dealers and losers
Faint hearts and beacons
Before me
Its Up to me, down to me
I may resume the matter
hurtling footsteps
Sir Lancelot waiting
working out the price of time
Derange all boundaries again
When you are a politician, they all want you with fruition
if you were a great magician you would wave a magic wand
When you are a politician you have to watch your diction
if you want to achieve world peace you got to shake their hand
When you are a politician you are oil in a Governed wheel
if you are honest, you won't beg, borrow, nor steal
When you are a politician you honor promises, commitments
if you are successful then everyone wins in dividends
When you are a politician some do love you some do not
keep on doing what your doing, you are not Sir Lancelot
When you are a politician, work with diligence and flair
if you want a better Country then you really have to care.
Written by: Mystic Rose
for all those out there working hard to make
our Country, a better place...
O Camelot! O Camelot!
The winds have changed, the land got hot!
Though dromedaries are quite neat,
A bactrian's hard to unseat,
And so the knights still joust a lot.
At banquet feasts, the men are found,
And like the table, they are round.
The reason they are heavy-set:
Girls now see knighthood as a threat;
Who lives life chaste and honor-bound?
Sir Galahad, a handsy lad;
His boasting made the maidens mad.
Now saddled with the cursed #metoo,
Chivalrous days of riding through,
He gardens, in his armor clad.
And then there is Sir Lancelot
Sad, as he aged, he weirder got.
Exchanging quests for lowly toils,
He traveled far just lancing boils,
Relieving pustulence and rot.
And Arthur lost what he held dear:
His lovely bride, his Guinevere
The evil witch, Morgana Fay
Transitioned her without her say,
And as a knight she does appear.
O Camelot! I just cannot
Believe the damage time has wrought.
And now the lady of the lake:
A charlatan, a fraud, a fake!
Ran off with Merlin, on his yacht.
I postulate ocelots
as proselytes for chocolate:
they’d get word out on the dot;
they’re easy to spot.
And I’d tell a parable
or something comparable,
with a nugget of caramel
to be retold a lot.
Earth brown exterior:
clearly superior;
heavenly interior,
delicious and gold.
Here comes Sir Lancelot,
riding his ocelot.
Yeah, sure, it costs a lot,
but aren’t you sold?
A happy ending to "The Lady of Shallot"
(In deference to Lord Tennyson)
But then the sky's uncommon grace
shown bright and lively on her face
as sullen visage was replaced
and Heaven's holy light was traced
to the shores of Camelot.
From all around they joined to see,
both peasant folk and royalty,
the answer of his prayers to free
the Lady of Shallot.
Then Lancelot leaned down to kiss
as she blushed warm with tearful bliss
and thought about the years she'd missed
the tender touch of love like this
from her knight Sir Lancelot.
Bells from towers high were ringing,
the silent streets now filled with singing -
echoes through the land rejoicing
the Lady of Shallot.
Lady Guinevere and Sir Lancelot
Trapped in a dungeon, his help she sought --
Guinevere screamed, she yelled
But Lancelot, help withheld --
Damsels rescued, how quaint ~ This knight sold pot
Sir Lancelot
didn't smoke pot
He wielded a shield and a mask
~ A wineskin and a flask
I was thirteen the first time I pinned my eyes on her
She smelled of Italy, with peppermint breath that clung sweet
each time she kissed me affectionately with love-caress
She told stories of Sir Lancelot and knights of the round table.
Some days her big brown eyes shone with happiness and other
days, when Bobby Solo played his golden trumpet, she would
cry for memory of her long lost love. Knitting needles clacked
as she softly spoke of her blessed mother.
"She once read a romance entitled, Vienna And Paris.
Mother fell in love with the story and decided if she had kids
she'd name them after those two lovers. "
I was fifteen when she returned to Italy to lay next to grandpa.
All I have left is an old super 8 film, and a chapter of my life with
her that I could never replace or ignore. Her wise antidotes got
me through a lifetime. What we share in common is our first
names and so much more. Thank you for reading.
March 1, 2019
In the heart of Wales beneath shade of trees
In world's stillness relieving in pages
Of bloom gardens as playful fairies tease
Shape-shifting wizards man of the ages
Caught a top of a fire breathing dragon
Charm the beast my passion, have it happen
Eye people pulling their wears in wagons
Close my eyes and let my senses deepen
Wales inspires quills to write Myths and legends
Of British, King Arthur of Camelot
Swordsmanship of Sir Lancelot commends
Behold enchantment of a castle lot
Wales, mysterious and romantic past
Bewitching spells cast and memories last
3/10/2017
The art gallery,
Was inspiring and exciting,
A portrait consuming,
Sir Lancelot,
King Arthur’s closest companion,
The greatest swordsman of his time,
A knight of the round table,
Her eyes were drawn to him,
Staring at his picture,
He seemingly stared back,
Handsome were her thoughts,
If only!
Step back for just one hour,
Time seemed to stand still,
She imagined holding hands,
Her heart melted,
The world stopped,
He swooped her off her feet,
Gliding around the hall,
His strong arms
Holding her tight,
Romance and imagination
Spoke every word,
She looked,
Dimly lit candles flickered,
Open fire with huge burning logs,
The structure of thick stone,
The battlement tower,
A fortress fortified against attacks,
She had been transported,
The wish had come true,
One hour they danced,
Or forever in his arms,
She closed her eyes,
He kissed her lips,
The candles blew out,
Into darkness,
She was back in the gallery,
Staring into his dark eyes,
Reached out to his picture,
The aroma of love,
Touching through eternities door.
25/01/2017
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
All my life, up until now, The TV channel playing in my head late at night even after I have gotten out of bed, has only been a test pattern. Then a voice called out my name didn't know from where it came. But now it was like watching a channel never seen before, just follow the narrator's whisper, and things started to turn out all right I could really be like sir Lancelot the real White knight weak In body but strong in spirit. Drawing the innocent near my shield reflecting brilliant light, yet blinding those who abused there might. I finally realized the whisper came One not in my sight, but there all along with all of his might, just waiting for me to trust and believe, then I would be capable of such great deeds. Wearing the polished armor of God and mounted on the sturdy Steed directed by the Spirit what direction to gallop, when leaving the safety of the castle to ride thruout the lands, to duel the black knights and rescue fair maidens from their plight, locked deep in castle walls dark as night.
In the land of Camelot
Some did see and some did not
Dragons Demons and a Witches’ brew
This is a tale of a Love I once knew
The Warlocks portal did resonate
As the creatures passed through their hellish gate
The Wizard Merlin did magically appear
Warning all that the deception was near
Holographic Love had never been so strong
Lures you and allures you with merriment and song
A damsel in distress I took the call
The illusion began as I climbed it's wall
Now within the Grand Delusion
Love’s thorns put me in seclusion
Was this Love real or was it not?
And yet I thought of myself as Sir Lancelot.
Jan.28.2016
I look towards the foaming sea
The clouds go by, the wind runs free
I stand upon the tremblin’ quay
And wonder now where you could be
I call your name but all in vain.
The crashing waves encroach the land
Never will I hold your hand
It is hard to understand
I am in tears and pain.
Hark, he cometh on sturdy steed
Sir Lancelot, I must concede
Would surely fill this empty need
His gentleness, of tender breed
Perhaps he'll cast his eyes on me.
Fair Guinevere had caught his eye
Though he left her with a sigh
As the king was standing nigh
Behold me; I am free.
---------------------------------------------------------
22nd August 2014
A Collaboration ~ Paul Callus & Carolyn Devonshire
Contest: The Lady of Shalott
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Placing: 1st
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