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Nancy L. Pawley

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King Of Hearts And The Gypsy Queen
by Nancy L. Pawley

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King Of Hearts

The King Of Hearts sighed in weary resignation..
" As the renowned ruler, I am cruelly cursed with faulty visions and lonely aspirations,
a paltry spectator who has lost his olden crown to lingering fleeting shadows.
I watch the blaring glare of garish grand illusions..
acted out by a host of misty-veiled, white-gowned celestial spectres.
Their voice of choice resounds in blaming..
skirring-whirring high-pitched wailing sounds. "
He glances at his glossy gold-framed oval mirror..
perchance betrayed by a bewitching hindrance,
it reflects a bleary bald-faced fact of sorrowed lines and clinging crags.
No wonder that his gladsome smiling countenance sags,
eludes him..yesterday, today, and then tomorrow.
Applied in wails of teary weeping, droaning cries..
a groaning continuation he cannot deny.

His royal throne is wrought of selected cold-hard granite,
" These toilsome times are doomsday troubled,
foiled into starkly rolled and darkly drear..
naught but gloomy raindrops drip from up above
to fill my overflowing eyes below.
The pain of proper language that I know looms grey in deceptive lies,
double-talking of despair.
My aching heart rejects sweet notions of kindness, loyalty, truth and friendship,
I swear on Jupiter's jovial planet I have found no receptive, eternal love to share. "

Dullsome days turn into sullen morose months,
as saddened seasons quickly come, but never seem to go.
He walks the cloistered halls from room to room,
maddened footfalls echo in his saline silence.
" I feel at such a hazy loss, a lull where nothing changes..
I see no glazing colors bright in burnished pigmentations,
I'm caught up in a draining pitchblack hole.
Any nosegay figments that I hoped to catch are shattered into bitter fragmentations.
My intended sense of babled fate escapes me,
there's an ominous reasoning to the frayed and fuzzy puzzlement..
violence, a living thunder clangs a beating ballad within my heaving chest. "

The gabled wooden stables house his moody snorting steed..
the good natured groomsman saddles him with hurried haste,
crooning serenades gently in his ear.
The noble King sits astride the fabled stallion, breeded strong..
carries with him his coat-of-arms and double-edged claymore,
chief of sheathed defenders to smote his erstwhile enemies.
Hinted rumors lend credence as they start their furthest journeyed quest.
Parting, not tarrying..galloping free from alarming worry,
far from the furnished castled fortress.
Tracing the solaced parabled path that leads to somewhere,
a labled place where he shall feel more than brigandine blessed.

The Gypsy Queen

The night is heavy laden with the sparkling stars, lighted eyes of heaven.
The silvery bladed smoke of fine maduros fills the crisp clean air,
as I listen in delight to the group of dark skinned men
softly strumming Spanish-stringed guitars..
then greedy fingers, larked wings aflight
move catgut bows across their vibrant violins.
The give and take of levitated rhythms old,
remembered bars passed down through untold generations
swiftly captures the plight of my nomadic spirit,
the sighing restless music of creation.

My long dark flowing hair bestows a reckless riverline,
slithers fondly down my spine..
charting its caldron course, falls in furlonged waves that wander to and fro.
My necklace fair, pounded thin from stolen gold
holds rare adornment of a single teardrop garnet, standing starkly proud,
a spark of blood against the olive glow of my chaste Romany-mined skin.
A purified awakening to a visible pledge,
the source belonging to the respective virgin bride of a phantom lover I am told.

The communal campfire burns in gradient colors bold,
a torching red and yellow lamp..weaving, curling, arching ever higher.
A romping compliment to my swirling skirt of radiant blue,
it's blasting hue a contrast to my palest ivory peasant's blouse.
The low-cut sleeves are in straight alignment
with the rounded contour of my youthful outlined breasts..
in truth a traited flirt in innocent allurance, at my core I am pure and undefiled.
No frowning, sighing man dare touch me, lest he seek my father's hateful vengence..
he must beware the proof, the hailing glare of shining steel.
Never slow or hesitant, unfurling pain, a hutch of pointed retribution is his stringent gain.

I dance in flighted tambourine fever, this night's appeasement to our Druid gods.
Even though the banded embers glow hotter than the brands of hell,
I feel a ceaseless shivering deep within this Gypsy Queen, my bodied soul.
The morning's creeping light in slow increments ascends..
pleasing, blinking bright stands the rising sun.
We are granted an atonement in slanted vistas vast,
tinged serene with heights of fluid pink.

The ringing bell of blessed desire caresses, aspires to life in sacred trilling notes,
lifted skyhigh on the singing breeze..
spilling, brings Pan's fluted drifting melody.
Swift of soles, bred in my bones I walk the oft-tred pine-treed pathway,
nimbly passing through my shrub-shrouded goal,
proud the invisible doorway sways..
simple leaves, limbs and vines rank as guardians and protectors of the holy shrine,
it's secret entrance deftly leads me to my personal god, stalwart Treo' Riparius.

Blithely he stands watch on the mighty river's heathered edge.
Grandly pledged in greeting, his arms are dredged,
gnarled, snarled and weather-beaten..
his priestly robes quiver in their cowled creasings,
clutched in dripping greenish-grey of hanging moss drapings.
Boney fingers stripped of stoney bark are charnelled black..
his advice is lean of language, matchless probing age.
His wise-as-owl eyes are hollowed out,
Vantaged Wisdom is his middle name.

The muted beauty of his dutied silence states his true st strength.
I see his newest faithful consorts, construe d as diligent Water Chinquapin..
appreciated Lady lilies, densely velvet-dressed in lengthy blooming bowers.
His mated floating female spirits holding court,
drenched with their fragrant palest yellow flowers..
Rapunzel's celebrated gold with them is carefully spun,
shaped into balanced petaled parasols,
pinched crowns, their halos shade them from the eastern sun.
I unveil my mellowed self to them, my gypsied life unsold..
my heart apprised and soul unhidden, an allied daughter undisguised to them I cleave.
No failings, forever safe in growing knowledge that I alone have been palladium chosen,
accepted in their coted fold..
they glissade in their liquid dance, a dipping dainty-cupped ballet.
I'm bedecked, bedewed, bejeweled in their emerald colored leaves..
my naked honored homage is my show of proud allegiance.
Rapt adoration in my respect and reverence..a dauntless guiding beam
which reflects reality, the faultless fealty of both spiritual and physical realms.

King Of Hearts-2

My splendid flashing steed,
trusty gallant Brash Faestean and I departed..
northly far from behind the sublime,
perfume mazed rosegardens no longer in full bloom.
Crossing the forked floodgate's mossy flume,
the bursting forth channel-sluiced moat
of my stone cluster-worked castle walls..
we faced glooming blasts of blustery blown, bone-breaking gusty winds.
I pondered with no patient traits, a wandering brooding ruse..
no fondly gloating clues, my mind not remotely lucid.
I blindly searched both high and low,
not even freed from crusts and drams of inbetween..
alertly chasing down the charted creed, indeed the absolute answers,
an amazing sign to my lifelong vexing questionings.

Behold how untold countless days strangely surge,
stretched into ceaseless unfamiliar hours..
doled end to barren end,
boldly pending dire layers blending,
merging one into another.
No happy happenstance that amuses me,
no serving man can I fetch
to make me mount a pleasant gamesome laugh
or mold a winsome smile.
Even if perchance a lowly subject were to see me,
at first glowering glance they would peruse and view..
then gaiting, run back to their peasants' barracks in duressed fright.
The truth of my haunted identity hides beneath
my curving down turned frown,
still glued intact..alas, alack.
My wallowed tears trace grimey tracks
in dour folded miles, a course that pours fine line maps
along my wretched hollowed cheeks.
I am hardpressed, hesitant to taste a tiny morsel or chew a speck of food.
Forever cold and clammy, no rest for the weary..
surrendering to abject circumstance,
I close my failing eyes and pray for purging sleep.

These northeast green wood thickets are overgrown,
the hooded forest thickly groved..
appearing as a starkly dark and bitter crone,
a harpy critter, stunted unserene and lonely.
I am a fearful shaker, a quavering partaker..
wavering in the beastly breeze.
I raise my aching hands and voice in sparks of anger..
fickle crickets calling forth a ghoulish dirge.
They scream, " You are a careening hasbeen..
a deluded rovered soul, an untalented fool wandering poor and lost.
Your lease on life is in arrears, slowly running out..
a lowly quandering quitter, so afraid to live your fading years,
yet in no way content to die without a fight this night. "
Heaven's godly clergy have sent no guardian angel,
no glittering spirit to my side..
no bickering chorused soothsayers to guide me
to the covered rood so I may say the blessed mass,
then confess with beaded rosary.
Singing praise that I am pardoned, I fall prone upon my breast..
implore that I pass quickly, bravely through this dangered test.

I am in cheering luck, the periled fates have graced me..
dazed and struck, not restful sleeping in my feathered bed,
but no more fretful fits, disheartened vacillation.
Invigorated, I stumble on a small slate clearing near a river heading scene..
diversed crests and slivered valleys.
It's flowing breadths are marvelous, wild and deep..
my daring wits resurface, generating a relationship with favored pluck
I shall foray, hunt for humble rabbits mild, a habit I was taught from childhood..
the best of all the savory meats, a frontiered bounty for a hunter's stew.
My resourceful faithful horse will find his nourishment, his feeding source complete..
whinnying within the creeping grass and grabbing vines nearby,
chasmed fine with huckleberry bushes.
We hear the brimming rush of the clean pool water's force..
it is there we shall drink and swim.
Splashing, casting, catching a sinkerline..
preparing a delicious breakfast, hot
piled high with fine filleted fish, not gleaning meager crumbs.
Stabbing slabs on the dish, my beleagered stomach rumbles, grumbles as if to say
" Of course you blasted fool, eat for you are hungry! "
My crawling drifting soul no longer frought with mounting wrathful thoughts,
I feel a lifting of my beguiled spirit..this fitting place will keep me company.

I hobble Faestean's sturdy legs, so his raring movements remain restricted.
Closeby within earshot I whisper softly, " Fear not Gentle Giant. "
I sling my feathered arrows, fling my quiver pack behind my leathered back,
my pliant bow held loosely in my folded hand.
I am quiet as a country-cobbler's mouse, no wordy conversation parts my lips.
I tred through summer's green-leaved oak trees,
seeing runners clad in fluffy snow-white fur
darting fast before me, no more quibbling.
Quick, precise, never sparing..the metaled arrow hits it's proven mark.
Then there are two other twitching noses and puffy cotton tails..
I am thrice blessed by Mother Nature, no ill-begotten gains.
My pasty mouth begins to water, I can almost taste that rabbit stew.
Tracing due south to the ranging area I shall call my home,
I find enough small wild carrots and sharp tanged onions..
thinly sliced to add flavor and color to the hearty brew.
The flaring fire is built with thickened logs and crackling sticks, sparked with gusty flint..
and the potted liquid starts to bubble..foaming higher, hotter.
The changing light is fairly fading in the bright red western sky.
Thus begins anew the long awaited first time that the pounding heaviness has lessened
in my steel-plated chested heart, now easing from it's pricking pain.
A probable medicine to heal, a cure-all to my worst cased sense of loneliness..
do I dare believe, trusting in its guaranteed surety?
I gladly gobble, eat my savored fill.. liquid dribbles down my chin.
No more will I greet conflicted strained behavior,
listening closely to bewitching nightfall sounds ..a restful calmness overtakes me.
I am a paladin with a championed cause
and I sleep with harp-stringed chiming dreams.

The Gypsy Queen

I safely swim and freely float in deserted, quiet contemplation..
the blazing sun beats down in tingling warmth against my pertly naked skin.
My alerted ears perk up, clandestine islands of intense interest,
my childish soul a little waif in fright.
I hear skittering worrisome noises coming from the murky woods..
not a single-bonded gypsy knows of my wandering whereabouts.
Chattering squirrels chasing and baby rabbits playing hide and seek in hurry-skirry fun.
Buzzing swarms of lazing busy bees hiving sweetsome honey..
cheery mating birds flirting, twittering their gleesome notes
and warbling certain love songs.
Soon my scary-wary waiting ends as all eerie sounds grow silent,
erasing taxing fears once again.
I relax in brimming silken smoothness, smiling..
smattering ripples with my dampish dripping fingertips,
rounded circles spreading, riding to the pebbled shore.

This vibrant cloudless hour is brightly still..quite delightful, early.
I shant be missed at the shady hillside camp.
In jaded consideration, rebellious bliss I am not afraid..
I linger just a little longer, bide what's left of my precious time.
I must return before my spiteful hateful father wakens,
glowers, rants and raves when he learns that I am gone..
the power of his violent temper
makes his hefty rockhard fist wellknown for many miles around.
He is the championed leader tyrant throughout our proud Romany nation..
but for now his rationed sleep is one of sour wine, drunken induced stupor.
This very stearling night I am to be betrothed to the highest bidder,
a month of ribald celebration..
a brawling crowing flock of strongarmed mighty men from all the tribes will meet.
Offering up their showered bribes..a barrage of branded golden coins for me.
Each potential bridegroom rolls his monied dice, for the priceless pearl of my virginity.
I will become his mated swooning wife, the granted blooming bride for him.
The blackbrowed gloating man will scream with passioned glee,
" I shall be married to this Gypsy Queen. "

The Velvet Lady Consorts gently part their emerald glades for me..
my dusky body bare, as I prayerfully stand, rise and wade.
Parade in virginal awareness, falling portaled..
repentive knees bent before my regal god on land,
wise Treo' Riparius.
In breathing trust and honest faith I call on him
to be my constant, caring guide.
Let his burgeoning belling spirit flood fair within me,
the final hour of my reckoning grows near.
Laid in pleasing pools of knowing meant to share,
he bestows his reasoned truth and ceaseless knowledge..
signed, increasing bloodflow to my heart of hearts, my peaceful lair.
Below his shocking sand eel roots I cull the one rare living branch..
with fanning leaves that flower, in a perfect shaded red.
I take this grandee piece of him with me,
my prized possession, aglow in steadfast emotional sustanance.
He demands I plant his full husked manseed beneath the nightblack sod..
dig with my sharpened spade and grow big his stately tree.
It matters not where I might be.
My flirting skirt of radiant blue and ivory peasant's blouse
lie hidden in a musky strand of prickly brambled thorns..
I am cautious, careful not to chance a scratching cut that bleeds.
I foresee no need of contrite confessions,
no heathen chastisement, no blaming sullen mockery.
I must present and verify myself as the perfect candled story..
a firey flame not lit, heavy-lidded in polite flattery, no protestations on this night.

I am loath to depart, for indeed a dreadful fate awaits me..
deflated as I pledge my troth and wed, doubtless mated to a man I do not know.
I primp with lightning speed and fine finesse, brushplait my loose wet hair.
From the undergrowth of inclined bushes far across the lush wide river,
a whistled teasing tune croons sweet to greet me..
a butterfly flitting on the cool caressing breeze.
As I confess my earthly sins I perceive a stranger's thoughts..
an unseen apparition casting curious netted longings upon my woman's flesh.
My sharpened eagle eyes are fooled,
my pimpled goosedown skin frought with a peeling whoosh,
a brittle breeding ground of queazing dizzy fear.
A dubious condition urging I best quickly slip away..
a surging swell, telling of my own tried and true volition.
Fleeing straight from damned perdition,
not risking unknown dwellings of trouble and intrigue..
surround myself, abounding in kind clanned company.
Highly valued mirthly faces,
I align myself with finest friends not haughty deadly foes.
Past noon, no shadows can I chase..
I race, running faster than my madly beating heart,
the sizzling hissing smoke of charring campfire meals comes reeling into view.

The King Of Hearts-3

My restful night of lingering sleep was blissful for a change,
I wake to morning's warmth, delighted and refreshed..
restored to sounds of bounding woodland creatures,
dwelling great and small.
Longingly at last I must confess, I feel my stomach's sorely stressed..
met with growling grumbles as my craving hunger has returned.
I fling a casting line to clearly catch the sum of many pounds,
a mess of fatly fresh specked and freckled fish..
dine with savored flavor, a captured treat upon my waiting tongue.
I whistle a listing rightful tune of fondly wandering songsters,
chiding cunning minstrels..
a fistfull of gladsome tidings for this feated day are sealed.
I smell a hint of river rapids..dappled, breaking in the brightly glinting sun.
Do my wondering eyes of piercing blue deceive me..
the swarming spiteful gods are not polite, they fierce behave in catty raving fun.
Having found by divining chances
a sightly vision of formed enrapturement is rising, hovering..
revealed as the lovely feminine goddess, the face of comely gliding Venus.
Or a spritely mermaid seanymph in all her stunning naked glory,
a diamond jewled treasure..
prismed with dotted water clinging, sparkling off her undressed bronzen skin.
I keep calming quiet like the peaceful dove in flight, a balmy sighing breeze..
to bring a slivering disturbance, slight squeezed quivering will not bode well for me.
She hears no warning notice but stretches out her slender arms and smallish hands
in psalms of singing supplication to a higher celestial power..
maybe to a fated lover, kingly stranger she has never seen.
Soon her graceful stance is inconspicuous, totally concealed..
her lacy shawl the placed reality of doting grounded branches,
but her beauteous core wraps itself around my pressured pulsing heart.
The thought of goodly food is long forgotten in my tracking quest to find this goddess grand.
My numb and lacking soul is rearranged and smitten,
expressed in signs of written words..
blessed love and purity divine.

Fleet of mud-encrusted booted foot, I make my daring hurried way.
Never failing..running fast into the sunny clearing,
beating back the budding green-leafed rooted bushes.
Rashly jumping on my worthy cunning steed..
no more fearful harrowing delays are seen.
Appearing is a breaking path, no biding time, pushing open wide..
flushing clean before me into narrow hilly untilled fallowed fields.
Brash Faestean's in flurried teeming motion,
blurring dragon hoofs embark with glowing heat..
ruthless truth indeed, finally freed from hobbled restrictions that I slyly placed.
He is filled with crackling energy, trumping vigor, pumping vim to spare.
A broadnail rusty bridge is sagging low before me..
starkly marked and rutted, lacking fluttering flying maroon festooned flags.
With bragging pride of blasting pace we cross in speedy fervored spirits.
Attuned to highly hearing..metalled pealing, clattering, chattering.
Silver-shod his earthly shoes are slickly clicking on the cutter's cobbled road..
yielding sparking shooting stars of soot-sealed hot-fired tracing comets.
The crooning flaring fluted fairey-god's own blaring greeting guidance..
no mad magpie curving loss of chided one-sided posturing.
Glad-meeting hailing noise and harking galesome laughter
in the shallow chasing distance,
the curry-scented air is pudding filled with promised ketteled treats,
mellow noontime meals.

I pull on the grainy leathered reigns and come up tethered short..
Brash Faestean rears back his snorting head, then roughly swerves
as my unbidden hallowed goddess grand,
stands loudly proud before me.
Her spelling eyes flash brightly sharp..
trained as prodding daggers flying high, jeweled black as midnight sky.
Her belling voice shouts out in preplanned warning,
and I'm surrounded by a callow heathen band of scruffly scraggly men..
brutish, bullish relatives with poisoned gallowed minds.
Nervous and conflicted brethern, sullen marsh-browed cousins,
and one cruel old crowing man with blowing hair and beard of dullish grey.
Her thick-veined loutish guardian..
maybe he's her mighty father, quite harshly clamps her lifted arm.
He nods and she is cloistered near, quickly hidden, swiftly whisked away.
He offers me a spiteful fighting challenged cry.
" Safe passage is assured with your sporting cashman's fee..
a mere cost of one full golden gifted soveriegn
for this night's once in a lifetime good-natured festivities. "
T'is a small pardoned price to pay to see this delightful lovely vision, clearly.
A wishing fairy angel's harp plays merry notes..
my stalling scholared ears heed her best advice again.
I adroitly toss the weighted coin,
the sallow circle breaks..the bearish men are calmly lulled.
They mull in brassy bragging tones,
then without another given thought leave me well enough alone.
The winding prairie road curves to the gypsy camp,
gaily flowered wreaths their main adornment..
no lack of grounded landed tents and brownish bodied crowds.
Gaudy fashioned, haggling boasting women
and clashing swaggering passioned men..
boisterious mounds of unshoed children playing..
falling, dashing, lollygagging.
Mouth-watering pounds are pending..hot roasted suckling hamhocked pigs,
fatted goats and tender lambs.
Vatted pots of thickened hearty soups and breads of wheat and rye,
a moistened rainfall, untamed flowing port and fruited wine..
a courtly feast fit for this king.

A dirty boy around the age of ten
comes bounding up and blurts for all to hear
he will attend my unsquired horse and silvered gear,
and gamely serve me for this sunny day..
for a mere pittanced wage, I might add.
" Your name, young son? " I gently chide, for he is an enterprising lad.
His biting teeth are clad in white as he replies
with a topsy-turvy spindly wide-mouthed grin, " Always at your service..
I am called Arveen, of course. "
" Young friendly sire, you are politely hired..might I inquire as to what is going on?
So much ganging life, jesting fun and baffling laughter appearing in the windy sounds..
is there a fiefdom's fame or regal reason for this day's profound festivities..
an aspiring holy time, mayhaps a special season
for a sacred saint or religious keening diety? "
" No sir, kind pending master, I bear saddened witness. "
He hangs his tousled head and sighs,
" T'is the sorry plight of the prideful Gypsy Queen to be betrothed..
she will legally adhere, freely keeping to the side
of the vying man who pays the highest scoring price. "
" And how would I know this brown-skinned black-haired Gypsy Queen..
I have never peered upon the stunning bested sight of her. "
" Right there, she is..her hurtful frowning father stands in gritted bitterness behind her. "
As if on cue, the lad points downwind towards a curving wooden stage..
and kneeling in the greeny grass beneath I see
the leaning source of my true goddess fair.
A brightly flaming beaming ray of purest sunshine,
I gage serene her shining countanance
far surpasses the graceful beauty which belongs to Helen of Troy.
My simple questing cure is known by wise old starry sages,
the templed monks, gods of fated deals with rockhard grounded nerves of steel..
my bided maddened prayers are surely answered.
I deeply draw a cleansing breath to fill my empty lungs
as the cheering dimpled smile spreads fast across my face..
reaches every corner of my gladdened heart.
" A golden sovereign hunk to you smart boy I will pay with no delay..
if you find and tell me what the highest bidder has in mind. "
Arveen's deceptive stock I shall employ.
" I forswear I shall frustrate all guzzling drunken soused opponents..
upending and outspending, not taking time to mocking toy
with these sparring fighting Romany men,
who consider themselves as frightful raging hounds from hell.
I will penning cage and tame them
then husband spousing,
claim this dear Gypsy Queen for my fiery loving bedded bride. "

The Gypsy Queen

Reaching the stunty brushed inclining juncture
the brownclay brambled pathway lies damply far behind me.
The sunken rutted barrowed roadway leads to my father's shelf-deeded map-charted camp..
where my dusty trailing feet, fastly fleeting should proceed,
throwing bended caution to the wind.
Exploding on the flustered coursing scene in front of me,
a stately figure bluntly blocks my way.
With churlish grunts and hearty hails,
a rushing clowning stranger from a brashly unknown clan
rides mounted on his neighing snorting steed.
At this squirlish niggling moment I count myself as self-reliant
with no slim-gutted need of a stamping championed male
and I shout the standing baying gypsy signal cry.
I cannot hear a solid sound of any praying pitiful pleas,
falling downwards from his smartly parted grimly pensive lips.
I know in all due simmering certainty
if he does not choose to freely bleed, he will be forced to pay a shocking bribing fee.
My crushing frowning rescue fast approaches,
I see the rounded crowd of berating mocking men advance..
crowing clamoring cousins, blue-veined yammering uncles,
my railing hounding drunken father beseeching, goads them on.
With no failing shimmy-shamming delayed play
I shall receive a damningly vile, meanly berating, bitter bashing tongue lashing,
instead of slamming wrathful beatings..
which leave mounded pounded marks that disappear so slowly,
less binding sterling counted Bride-bountied money
if on this day my girlish body is displayed as battered, scratched or scarred.

My sordid gristly father roughly cuffs my slender arm,
then gruffly hisses in my sorely aching ear..
" Tonight your erstwhile bidder's staking claim will not come soon enough..
I shall be mighty glad to clearly rid myself of badly bluffing bother,
be fluffing freed from you.
I shall not miss the bursting breaking chore of rearing
a boring prissy daughter not firstly fending for herself.
All I ever wanted was to have the cheering toughened stuff a fighting son is made of. "
No disarming smiling bliss alights while in my wistful tearing sight..
I am the torrid cursed omen who has harmed his brightly peering life.
Appearing not the one to carry on his bristling burly name..
I am not his early rightful charming heir,
just his alarming horrid puffy-preening daughter who brings him scuffling listing shame.

I keep my gaping furrowed mouth closed,
all my growing flowing thoughts are leaping southward towards a showing sought escape.
If my jaunty haughty husband holds and treats me dearly,
I shall not churning spurn, but quite rightly nuzzling learn to live with him..
And if not, there are many courtly places in the world
I can naping burrow in blowing new found freedom..
telling fearsome heaps of guzzling gypsy fortunes.

My bracing older cousin bold Selena waits,
fraught with slowing tapering patience within our long-poled stowing tent..
She will gracing mold and draping fit me
in the same delightful lacy-caping wedding dress
my cold-slumbering Mother wore 2 dozen years ago.
She was the brightly gold-crowned Gypsy Queen
all aglow, attired in her virginal Bridal betrothal finery..
bestowing brewing stories, tracing legendary sing-song lore.
The surging humming harpy fates never let me knowing share her
as she died in numbing dripping fright with the puzzling fuzzy vapors.
Taking care of Ecclesiastical prayful business just one sternly staring glaring priest..
red-robed round-capped clergy for my burgeoning birth,
he declared my coming as she breathed her lastly dying breath.

" Sweet Cousin Vinya, grand beloved Gypsy Queen..
you know our descended blended customs well.
They have existed since the spinning span
of earth's dusted land's beginning..
their seven dire brands cannot be removed
come holy clustered heaven or the gusting coal-cindered heated fires of hell.
The smoothing bridal dress plus your trusted mother's lacy-trailing veil..
I have kept them as her pulsing greeted gift complete, her meeted legacy to you. "
She leaned in close and muzzling faintly whispered,
" This is a more proven worthy goal than meets the bursting torrent of your weeping eyes.
Your mother's buzzing cleaverness,
her strengthened inspiration neat
is trellised here but to your felling naked sight is not revealed. "
Her grinning friendly sisters help me bathe
in steaming steeping water purified by the Holy Priest, admired..
the short-chinned beaming friared man who shall perform the swelling marriage ceremony,
that banning binds in penning words and purified blood.
I know I must accept my standing wedding vows on this night,
I am below depending..
bound by mandantory obligations,
arrogant seated rules and planned-out regulations that will never change.
Once I leave my father's barren dwelling, his souless flustered house..
freed from my errant prison cell I shall be paroled do what behooves and pleases me.

The King Of Hearts-4

Proud cheerful young Arveen, blond of brow,
my staking servant boy for the waking day
gently leads my lathered daring steed, valiant Brash Faestean
and tethers him to feed between leaning bales of fodder,
fresh mown hay and line strung splashing sloshing oaken bucket.
He fondly bows, marks his heeded bearing, peering straight ahead..
curves alone his leathered way
among the tightly cloying crowd of unclean bristly bearded men.
He does not speak in nervous biting tones..
not as a blistered broken coward, but rather meekly listens,
intent on their lively spirited banter.
Close-fisted bonds exchanged among the mobs of free-tonguing blaring bidders..
I watch the daunting scene clearly from afar,
interpreting their meaningful five-fingered gestures.

I serenely wander through the green-grassed gypsy camp,
red-breasted robins hopping, top the lay of ranging pine treed land..
it encompasses and enthralls with gaysome sights and chanting sounds so foreign,
yet clearly bent with falling feverish fervor.
A long-beamed ray of stellar sunshine flashes darts of angeled light
to the baring bleeding sorrow of my frowning pent-up heart.
I inhale, breathing deeply into my greedy waiting lungs..
decadent fine-flavored smells of suckling pigs and roasting deer,
bringing leaking water to my cheeky hungry mouth.

The popping smokey open air cantina beckons like a hive for honeybees..
I purchase basted heaping plates of goodly flaking food,
paying for a strongly frothing mug of steeping ambered ale
intended for a stuck-in-the-mud pokey giant,
pleasured dining while I bide my leisured time.

The afternoon's bright weathering sun has taken paling flight..
a hint of ducking down as the agreeable plucky lad comes round to fetch me.
" No scolding Bold and Kindly Sir,
the needed entry fee for the gathered bidding fast approaches.
A golden sovereign is your fount of debting pledge
if you do not wish to be bride-deprived of wiving,
the chaste enchanting Gypsy Queen. "
Young Arveen trailing turns, his stalling leave apparent..
a wondering breaking question that he asks of me.
" A thousand begging groaning pardons now I offer..
to bothering bid, her diffident boasting father requests your hailing name
and that you plead your worthy birthing tribe and bested settling nation. "

" With all unearned yearning dues of racing haste,
no pasted wishy-washy dilly-dallying..
dash with hurry-scurried speed,
deliver this heavy-weighted coin of mountain gold
to the one who keeps the counting levied entry fee. "
Pondering with thought I wonder..
should I avail myself, reveal my true breeded name as creeded King?
Or perchancing happenstance give my nom de plume..
an untaught peasant boy of meager means
who lived his plotted life in rotted naught and potted poverty.
I, the youngstered clashing lad pretending, playing games of cloak and dagger..
" My name is Morgan LaRue of the Tribe Hugo,
blood related to the Heweson Nation.. "
a calling part of my fair mother's mighty blooming family tree,
my official fighting name if historied truth be known.
My lowly peasant subjects are not politely privied to that fact,
but my delightful dark-haired mother with her perfumed plaited braids
was a tiny-waisted lucksum gypsy queen as well.

The central wooden grandstand is sturdily well guarded..
a peeking heavenward testament to the troubling hub of Romany fates and gods.
Built on mystical higher ground,
where the pliant damseled beauty
of the bare brown footed gypsy queen will be presented.
The stoked and prodded crackling campfire dances flames beneath..
sending rising misty ashen incense,
crystaled silence greeting proud Polaris
as he guides astray the tuckered darkening sky.
Heat-seeking fiery staring eyes and consuming reddened lips,
she casts her gleeful spell of feathered feminine wiles.
I sigh in teary-eyed atonement, allay my myriad fears..
I will not faulting fail for I find
no quaking doubt in my deeded heart or manly loins..
tonight this sashaying Gypsy Queen shall by all beknighted rights
become my own true vestured bride, glistening divine.

The Gypsy Queen

The belated fated hour fast approaches,
when I must casting stand before the glowering crowd..
all cunning scoured eyes shall be on me.
I hold the tallowed clergied-candle, brightly fueled,
merging with my rising hands.
In honor of my cold resting mother,
I wear her folded wedding dress..
the celestial milky white of bestspun silk arrived
from the towering ornamental gates of China, vast..
heavy-slant with pearly beads,
banded interwoven patterns of the powerful Romany civilization.
The dappled hips are softly padded,
but an overlapping jeweled treasure waits burgeoning within.
My face is lightly fanned with dryly dusted powder,
scant hid beneath her cloveflower lacy veil..
the mark of blessed scented innocence.
For indeed, if I were not apprised as a purebred tested virginal prize..
each moldy soured man would hatingly berate,
not giving second doured cowering thought to relent with credible bedding me.

Each strolling strapping man with inflated panting ego still intact
shall come and shallow kneel before my dreaded ranting father..
asking for my breeded hand in mated greatful marriage.
When question polled, gruntingly reveal and clippingly confess
who and what he is by his crested tribe and by his hunting nation.
I can only be the binding vowed and lasting chosen bride
of a vented man who's fighting flaring blood is gypsified,
half-hued is the roving least that it will take.

When the highest bidder's burlapped money bag has been brassly counted
and my glaring tyrant father signs in dipping dyes of rolling chanted blood..
receives his tolerant brideprice piece,
only then shall I be released from his cruel chastized guardianship.
Part slapping grappling packing company with my callow spiteful father..
Loving Vinya, the flaunting haunting name
of his flirting unwanted daughter will forever freeing cease.

I find it doubly difficult to nighing wait,
if I only had some shying virtued patience,
this hurting gallowed time of trying stress would purging pass more quickly.
The line of dark-eyed crassy men with beards of black all look the same to me..
I feel nothing but a dripping crying boredom dirge,
I need to tapping tambourine dance and clapping sing to feel alive.
Will this gripping trapping madness ever end
or shall this late night prove plying endless into winter days?
Every sallowed man has bid his flashy cores of gold,
some are headstrong warriors young, and some are greybeard leaders old.
My rudely grating father shouts, " Let the wrapped-up mass of racking gold
be curtly handled and chore-counted. "

A single man, tall of height, clean shaven of unknown mapping origin approaches, blurting.
" I have yet to bid my stacking mound of clacking gold for the rated favor,
the turtledove pairing of this hallowed Gypsy Queen. "

I see my surging father's eyes agleam as he imagines clouting
bubbling spreads galore of floor-monied gold for me.
" A simple plea kind sir, if you will..
your clanning name and true -dueling nation,
before you say another jacking word of spouting lore
or be sporting allowed to challenge bid for the dimpled unringed hand,
unwed lass, the marriage badge of the Gypsy Queen. "

The well-spoken stranger states in bragging traited boldness..
all doubt-backing ears are fine-attuned.
" My name is Morgan LaRue, I will not lacking be ignored..
I have traveled here from rippling fruited groves, many gloomy miles far away.
A share of Hugo is my ranging tribe, it lies verging into northern granging ocean shores..
I am fourscore related to the Heweson Nation,
in the vining loom of beating blood. "
Sauntering, he states his taunting dandied bid..
all the broke-choking men lipping gasp and rip-tearing groan,
as they moping know that they can never sparing hope to coping meet,
let alone stoking-top what he has token offered!

The King Of Hearts-5

I bracing pace and fiddling stand, far back behind the sparring madding crowd..
the fanning noisy din of gypsied-scarred Romany men.
Listening as the giddy panning bids are pinning prized
and finally sighing placed in the gripping lining lap
of the black-browed treasurer for this ripping crying night.
The highest gridded number has been crated, capped and duly stated..
chased in handshake oaths of agreeable understanding,
and with leisured pleasure, I grandly laugh inside myself.
For t'is tripping true , none has such dipping rising measured wealth as me.
500 sovereign gold pieces falls brandishing bland
as the last drying brigand bar and final toying offer.
I quickly clip, stealthily racing with the fated wind..
push my way to the cloying clapping front and jigging shout
for all to facing realize, adhere.
" I have yet to bid my spanning gold
for the binding favor of this mantilla-combed Gypsy Queen. "
The sweat-dripping demanding father
of the nipped-in-waist and flaring hipped Gypsy Queen retorts,
" Your banded calling name and bold branded nation, Kind Sir..
or in this inclined speck of time, I will heartily decline another vying word.
You will be hecking decked, kept apart..
not be allowed to succomb to the lacy wedded bliss
of this well-poised red-lipped Gypsy Queen. "
I greatly shake my balled-up fist..t'is my commanding right
to grinning proudly brag about my own true dated lineage.
" My highfound brawling name is Morgan LaRue..
I have traveled from my gloaming home, looming many miles far away.
My clannish tribe lies slipping north, cold and grey,
akin to the roaming-minded tribe of Hugo..
I am twining blood related to the warring plundering Heweson Nation. "
" What is your showing gated bid then, Fine Young Fellow, if you will..
not flying spineless pip-squeak be, loudly speak up,
do not boasting blunder, state your signing offer! "
" 2000 soverign gold pieces to plying kiss
this gladsome heavy-lidded Gypsy Queen, have her for my shining loving bride! "
The unruly scanning men of every landed tribe and shipping nation
let out one collective grinding sigh of pining marring disbelief.
" Are there any other late-planning bids to place? "
The whiffing miff of canning silence follows.
A strapping strong-armed figure reprimands me
to a stranded space onstage and swiftly takes my padded bag of brightened gold.
The grumbling count of abounding rounded coins is done and as I folding bow,
I am inclined to raise my kingly crested staff in a glacial cloud of final victory.

The bated Gypsy Queen has grating festering questions in her heightened darkened eyes..
Quietly wondering in her womanly breast if I will profess just who and what I am
in the great almighty fighting scheme of rippling flowing estuaried life.
Will my personal traits betray a blunder-bearing bridegroom,
a randied rover, cruelly berating with blighting fright..
meeting fumbling passioned needs that are all my pettish black-crowed own.
Might she be humbly awakened to the stimulating delights
of sated slumbering love and shown esteemed respect as is her preening wifely due?
She need not dour cursing hold encumbered crippling fear..
for I shall hourly tenderly woo her bested adoration and gesturing affections,
no mumbling chaffing forces shall I use.
Her meanly molded father bitterly glowers, sourly stands and grips her from behind..
leans her trifling close to me and joins our trembling shaking hands.
The chipping clergied priest waddles, dawdling as he glows..
his towering Godly power blessing both of us
as we say the required mated rites of our consecrated wedding vows.
" Do you, Morgan LaRue stipulate and specify..
promise to shower with love and nestling cherish,
firstly confessing here below that you will gladly forsake every other?
Admire Loving Vinya, this white-dressed Virginal-Bride..
as your tambourine-deemed one and only, your winsome fiery Gypsy Queen?
Hold her dear now and ever, no court jesting..
four-leaf clover better or dooming worse, all the rest of your attested living days? "
My fastly flipping heartbeat rejoins my flapping gaping mouth..
I cleanly shout with unstifled righteous joy,
" Yes, I pledge my solemn troth, forever and a vested day..
growing as the tallest oak until eternity has plating passed.
Be the zesty staking husband, the oft-dreamed keenly rated knight,
in cogs of shining armor she has waited for.
No hogwash hedging of my faithful heart, my fledgling soul agog..
my manly body eager and sincere, I bestow them all upon this Maiden Fair.
Aspire to honoring and protecting in ambitious fidelity..
My Blooming Bride, My Abiding Wife, My Gliding Glissom Gypsy Queen. "

As the crimson-lipped Vinya says her rolling velvet vows,
a calm serenity falls within my hell-bent burdened heart.
An angel-flighted healing of my morose and numbing spirit,
balming petitions to my lonely tortured soul.
" I lay forth the prime directive of the Holy Mass approval..
you may go ahead and lift the spin-laced dappled veil
and sipping skin-to-skin kiss, behold the shining countanance
the first of charmed enchantments, the wide-eyed innocence of your selected loving bride.
What the gracious God of raging cloud and beaming sun has joined together
in the protected praise of matrimony,
let no charcoal sinning man think to felling put aside. "
There is not a trace of happy smiling faces to inspect in the crass careening crowd,
as the slighted fettid hateful men all turn around and leave..
looking for their muling chipping mugs of fueling ambered ale to shinning strolling quaff.
The fretted fluming brass of foaming drink to plumbing set them free
from their dreaded losing miseries!
Her prideful stubble-chinned father, doubly debased..
not a hint of parental bredded caring palming gives to me,
a netted bag of pinning pelletted green with her dowried meager belongings.
She petting pampers and consoles, consorts to doling kisses..
naming each and everyone of her grinning colliding female relatives.
The elected loving Gypsy Queen is my grand finale,
silk-clad Wedded Bride, to controlling do with as I please.

I have not wronging long delayed, but spoke in pellmell tongue..
checking expeditiously, laid out pungent ruling plans
with my youngly briared and newly hired, squired blond Arveen.
He has a sturdy packing horse slung and loaded..
swelled with provisions for our grueling homebound journey,
food for eating, fishing creel and pelted tents.
We shall ride atop spacious studded hills of prickly gorse and needled pine,
wooded dells and valing valleys.

Arveen displays his digging spades as he smoothly sits astride
the fraying braids on the woolen blanketed packhorse.
Radiating Loving Vinya, the flirty fairer sex oft sung by wordy choirs
is set upon the graded flexing muscles of the strongly broadened back
of my well rested blackly bolden Brash Faestean.
I parading climb behind her and hold the tooling leather reins.
We will not stay for choken drunken celebrations or disorderly festivities,
chance charring brewing troubles
with these coarsely yelling miffed-off grappling Romany men.

I can scarce believe the psalming plight of my trolling changing luck..
I am embalmed with schoolboy wonder, filled with drolling charlocked pluck.
We take our furlonged galloping leave
traveling underneath the silvered sparkling lights,
the projecting shoaling class of Chamaeleon nighted heaven.

I am an up to date enlightened man, sprung of mighty patience true ,
my slated tolerant role politely bide in sprawling traded time.
If perchance I am deemed to separate our dwelling fur-lined beds,
I shall acquiesce if my molten temptress wife so bickering desires.
I shall wholly overcome, wait until the shaded sun,
the lunging moon, and twinkling stars all disappear from jaded fading view.
I know my complex riotous longing will not be denied forever,
will clearly manifest itself in the spelling rhymes, ringing songs of runged delight.


The Gypsy Queen

The reality of my unsealed hearing ears receive the perplexing stranger's name.
T'is Morgan LaRue..deranging sounds like a vexing pirate's nome
or that of a stealing robberbarron highwayman.
Perhaps an agrieved roving henchman who conceding deals
with the whirly clutching likes of foaming cauldron stirring Beelzebub.
He whooping bandies on about an unbelievable kingly sum, to branding claim..
clan as his, my unwedded never banded hand.
2000 abounding golden sovereign pieces he beholden pays for me as he jubilation jigs..
to succeeding bid like this is most unheard of and I must prying wonder why.
What conceiving clamshell plan does he have up his clowning jesting sleeve?
I must by all means necessary keep my corded wits arranged, cloak-concealed about me..
not get dire dreaming lost in the shawming dance of tambourine.

The trusted treasurer flinching kneels..
he cowers and retrieves, checks and counts the royal coins.
" Each soveriegn indexed coin is in his wenching bag. "
My unfeeling father pealing, cackles out with deplorable selling glee.
" I declare there are no more quelling bride fees or expected further offerings.
She shall be the fetching fair-bound wife of the viceroyed monied bridegroom..
this lordly sired man, created from the grazing-granged Heweson Nation.
This Dusky Rose Of Sharon will be married only once..
perfume-mated to the strapping reeling core of husky Morgan LaRue. "
He roughly clasps our hands together, as we stand weaving..
woven joined to flaring hip and muscled thigh, arms and shoulders blended.

The black-robed portly friar intones with nasaled boring chores
his solemn liturgical prayer of praise before us.
He politely inquires, implores as to who gives the bride away.
My father lying roars, condescendingly replies,
" Why I do, but when she leaves my flooring home, I shall miss her, sadly. "

The bald-pated priest propounds with rigorous vigor,
continues with his exacting religious words.
Do you, Sweet Loving Vinya, soaring blessed among the Gypsy Queens,
take contracting nigh to husband, impacting the remainder of your earthly life
this man from fourscore mooring lands afar?
Giving him your personal conning honor and dignified fidelity..
pouring forth the pure-blooded gift of your flanged virginity,
producing children galore from your plying woman's womb? "
My hexful hateful father takes it upon himself to pounding answer 'Yes' for me.
It is his factual leges right, a tieing-knot tradition
of our raiding tribe and of our nexus nation,
and it does not hounding figging bother me one benching whit!

But Morgan LaRue scowls, explodes in drenching bitter disappointment,
spitting crowning oaths of his dismay.
" I shall only kindle-bride, fending-bend
this protected Gypsy Queen to my soft-skilled will,
when the pact of truthful words fall from her own two sighing lips and rubied mouth. "
He is a strong, unconventional man to speak out in contempt
against the convenance of traditions old..
a blue-blooded brawling gypsy, who advancing knows
that once I speak the quoted store of fawning words, with no changing qualms
I am promise bound in heart and soul to never shying-leave his side.
Not one remote reservation or timid lingering hesitation,
come the devil's pinching fires of unhealed hell or quenching raging river's tide.

I hear the abiding guiding thoughts of Treo' Riparius,
my personal stalwart regal god on land..
revealing his ever flowing wisdom as I form the chalice leaden words, " I do. "
Morgan LaRue of mud dauber judging eyes
lifts the cloveflower veil from my lightly powdered face..
with patient knightly manners, with masterstroke he chastely kisses me,
then becomes a slight bit bolder.
His clever hands caress with brevity, finesse my meerschaum cheeks..
his searching lips perching, trench their pressing strength, molded hard to mine.
Tightly clinched against his chest I grow faintly dizzy
as if I have drowning drunk my fill of honied wine.

My married older cousin Selena and her open air cantina sisters all come to wish me well..
With many motherly smothering bearhugs and plentious trailing tears,
broken sad good-byes are flailing wailed, spoken as if with tolling bells.
They have been my closest rambling family and will never be forgotten..
as my newly gained, wise of brains lawful husband
sets me on his saddled handsome snorting horse.
To leave behind this spiteful horde of Romany men who have been bested
by an unrelated half-breed outsider..
their tendancy is to childishly avenge, lynch with clobbering fisted madness.

He chicking clicks his pearly teeth, then darting barbs he smartly states,
" We cannot calends stay, for the claying road it beckons ever forward. "
In a desirious blunt-tinged aside he tickling whispers in my listening ear,
" I shall not give you over for the bawdy, rowdy revelries, a mecurial melee meal..
for I am the only one who is allowed to tasting feast at your bodied table. "

A well-scrubbed, lion-cubbed youngstered boy canters near beside us,
as silvery moon shine blond as I am nightsky dark.
Morgan LaRue introduces him in bantering gleeful tones
as his fondly squired servant, hair asheen, the grinning lad Arveen..
an enterprising orphan child known round our roaming tribe.
He proffing doffs his feathered finch's cap my way
and broadly smiles with his own front row of crooked teeth.
We quickly clip-clop gallop, we racing trip to strange new climes..
a permanent visitation to a ranging home I have never seen and do not know,
traveling underneath the realm of sparkling stars,
that worldly carpets the vast expanse of heaven.

King Of Hearts - 6

The forward clipping miles towards my gloaming home are swiftly slipping by
when gallant Brash Faestean lifting, pulls his mighty head up..
whinnying in the wooded chaste abode of silent spiralling mist.
The spying silvery moon is fastly filling, styled aplenty with shimmery-shine..
the bended smiling gods of filing fate have left no flying whip of soaring shadows here.
T'is chipping bright as glowing day and my agreeable deeded steed,
he of noble-blooded lineage well remembers this same small greyslate clearing,
near the river heading scene.
Diversed with milling madwort crests and dipping slivered valleys,
the very gashing spot where I first gazed upon the stunning vision
of my Sweet Loving Vinya..
unclad in her beloved splendor, I coveted the savored favor of the dark-eyed Gypsy Queen.
My exploding breadth of heart drifting flows like the rippling rile of mighty rapids,
roaring marvelous, shifting wild and crashing deep..
blends with the gushing love I have for my beguiling wife, my cunning bested bride.
She aligning holds her slender tended arms out, not an ounce of lending shy
as she gracefully tumbles closely to my leather vested chest..
her eyes flash flipping sharp, but belie the sipping words of utmost joy
that fall from her pouting rubied lips.
" My Most Gracious Lord, Treo' Riparius, my stalwart god on land
bids you welcome to his illuminated branching hooded rood..
my affusioned place of lapping baptised worship. "

The random gods of fate are rating fair and we tipping pitch our tents,
not barring far from juicy-bledded huckleberries and flowering bilberry bushes.
With mallable talent the plucky lad Arveen, begins his hired squiring service..
unbridled sliding off the overloaded packhorse,
it behooves him to remove the sewn together pelts,
wooden poles, and stakes of course.
He drolly laughs as he unrolls our furry softhide bedding..
then choring stores in stacking lines bulging necessities we will need.

This is the glenning holy shore where first my frozen feet stood grounded..
angeled faeries bringing the unringed, untouched by any earthly flinging man,
unmarried woman as duly promised and averred.
Written-sealed and delivered as my dashing clashing destiny,
the tarot-cards foretold in fluming fortune by my own gypsied mother
many seered years before my dawning day of birth.
Bedecked, bejewled mantilla-combed in sparkling dewdrop diamonds,
glinting splashing rainbow prisimed water..
my shattered battered heart awakening to the goodly feminine wiles of Venus rising,
she of dripping naked bronzen skin.
Loving Vinya is my cure-all medicine
bred-to-the-bone next of sharing kin..
her dreamy gleaming eyes linking,
she drinks in my overflowing supping cup of simple truthfilled words.
She lowing keens, falls to her dimpled knees indulged in rapt abandonment,
offering her thanksgiving prayers and Romany adapted meditations
to the black-crowed dreaded god who led me here.
" I must wholly consecrate, shoaling mold anew, state just who and what I am..
shortly present myself to the Lily Lady Consorts.
Once the only daughtered maiden Loving Vinya, now the married virgin bride..
fraught confess my duressed sins.
They will floating court, console, befriend, sending guide and protect us
from the wrathful gripping vile of the nipping hateful gypsy men.
As yet they do not know this sacred treelined dwelling
where I have freely lived, prayed in meeded signs and belling played..
passing scoured hours since I was a lassing child,
securely purified and burnished in this homaged den.
They branded female moonbeams in my swooning heart..
to ripping pierce dire myriad trials and the fiercest tribulations.
In coal black ashes rent of medallioned sacraments, I must bowing honor them..
before the bodied consummation rites that make us touching senses,
pleasing man and wife. "

She looks fondly to blond Arveen, is gentle in conferring roaning tones,
" Will you kindly fetch my netted bag of pinning pelletted green? "
" My declared bosom-cherished wife, Sweet Loving Vinya,
you are furlonged wrong to basking ask what my hired squire cannot give..
for young Arveen knows not where it is gleaning hid. "
I breaching reach, delving deep within my double-edged claymore sworded saddlebag,
and retreive said item that she wants.
Prancing high, dangled nigh above her luxuriant dark-crowned head,
" One little kiss and it is yours to have and hold. "
" But of course, Kind Master, Sir. " She does not hinting bat an eyelash,
and I bending tend to capture kiss her redly ripened lips.
Sweet Loving Vinya is no easy giver..
her hackles rise, she readily tackles with her outstretched claws,
paws scratching like a hellbent scallioned lioness!
My mind adrift with unstiff hilarity, I finning pin her arms..
with lightning force, take my whiffing pleasured kiss, then release my honied source.
She looks at me as if to say, " You have had your toady little fun,
but toying boys and lusty men are not to be buried treasure trusted. "
Harsh tarnished lessons garnered from the bashing strong-armed Romany men
God only knows where or when I will pepperminting pay,
but I look ever forward to the jeopard taming game..
My marshglen Gypsy Queen is no poorly scheming shrew.

She takes her huffy-hurrumped peavish leave,
while the bright-eyed lad Arveen and I pitch tents
beneath the glittering stars of the silver Pleiades..
the splendid seven daughters of Atlas and Pleione.
I merry-whistle the same listing tune, the singing song of gailey wandering minstrels..
as on the crooning morn my heart unleashed it's curdling burden,
no longer weighted down by the rending rocks of discontent.
My squired youngster tiredly yawns and looping rubs his droopy eyes.
" You have cluing proved to be an ace of cards, hardworking, an enterprising lad..
I shall be your barding mentor, your advising protector and your championed father-figure.
The clamping chill of dawning day comes chigging early,
and I need your clerking diligence as we take our further journey. "
Lean Arveen lies boyish down into a snoring curling ball..
my walking footfalls churning echo, stalking to the churring river's edge.
I faintly see my dainty Loving Vinya..
her spritely woman's shadow quiet, slow emerging from the purging yellow lilypads.
She boldly holds fast within her two small clenching fists,
a dark-aged snarled, gnarled tree root..
raised unflinching in the plumripe summer air.
She pluming stands adorned, vision-formed in all her female glory..
clinging necklace vines, twined in yellow-green.
" Treo' Riparius, as your Wifely Lady Consorts have consented,
presented purling entwined bodies all to you
to sweetly breed and unfurling multiply in yearning plying love..
my spooning swooning body now I offer purposely,
freely to my grandee husband, the gypsy man named Morgan LaRue. "
My hungry longing, whelping presence felt,
my kindling-bride flings wide the welcoming invitation of her circling arms.
Lighter than a sparrow-feathered bird she is,
I do not wasting tarry, weightless carry her to my own pelted tent..
lay her lofty woman's softness near my cleaving-heaving chest.
Not low-browed smirky shirking,
she sees my gimlet eyes are drenched with steadfast love..
I gently woo, gluing slowly win her gingered soul.
Her virgin's merging body like the Dusky Rose of Sharon,
pouring forth in sudden perfumed budding love for me..
sighing spent in whispered solemn vows as our nightnoise bodies blend
ancient-wending holy-mated matrimonial rites.
Devoted husband and precious wife,
we spellbound lay encircled in each other's clamshell arms
as the dawning day approaches with it's reaching light.

" Kind Casting Master and Sweet Wistful Mistress. "
Polite of mannered deeds, Young Arveen spreads a delightful wedding feast before us..
crusty bread, fresh fleshy pippin fruits, and sweetly strong hot mugs of tea.
His darting eyes start looking to and fro,
sighting right and clefting left of the shiny-leaved red meadow fescue.
He hustling knows the funk of drunken Romany men
untractable reacting to being bested
by a droving rover, tussling outsider to their gypsy land.
Although I am showing want to grinning linger longer
with my plushly blushing bride..
in boding haste, I load the sturdy tracking packhorse and we are on our speedy way.
We sloshing cross the mighty Moschatel River, north-bound fording at it's lowest point..
cleanly hearing-ears pitched towards the flecking echoes
of the crassy jackass Romany men.
Their Celtic bellowing and cursing tongues
spit in spiteful grating nerves on the other curving side.

The slashing hours rush gaiting by, stashed in galloped gaping miles..
this time bounding round in the greenwood hooded northeast prickly thickets
not a naping hair on my draping neck
dares stand strident tall at strenuous attention.
No smashing scary shadows nigh to appearing as a starkly rash, dark and bitter crone..
a harpy critter needing to be fed,
stunted unserene, mean-spirited and lonely.
She is the blooming forest-sprite, the soothing cooling goddess fair
whose clarity guards us from the sharpened rays,
burning shards of heated noonday sun.
Loving Vinya, my fiery Gypsy Queen, and the lanky toothsome lad, young Arveen,
have become my quested true -found family
as we flanking travel far from the southern roaming range..
no turning back to ponder, we gladly stop our rippled nomad wanderings
for some siesta days, recouping levied rest.

Soon favonian Arveen will aspiring come of inquiring age
and he must firnwind learn,
to inspire the turtledove love of a special fresh-dewed woman,
either single-mingling young or harried-married old
each calendered female has leading need of her own fending private time.
We knotting tie our fishing lines with misshapen plotted lures, reddish wiggling worms..
simply drop them splashing into bedding waters calm.
We brooking hook the green-streaked fish, swiftly silvered spots..
pull out one and then another in the sheering clear serenity of the wooded pond.
Two silly-willy giggling males, aflopping mess, we take them back to Loving Vinya..
she is dueling gypsified, boldly dressed in fiery dropping jewels.
Swishing dance-step remnants razing round the roaring shored-up campfire,
my ravishing temptress wife lights ablaze my stash of mashing blood..
lasting lost in swaying rhythms jangling tambourined chimes.
I beaming whisper to Arveen, " I heard bruiting rumors about your brilliant cooking skills..
When Loving Vinya and I return,
I want a spitch-cock hashing meal fit for a King and Queen. "
I cunning run to my beloved, skirling swirl her round and round..
billet doux show my hallmarked heart is filled with love for her, divine.
Wedding banded hands entwined we gawking walk through pastoral spilling hills..
the countryside is grassy-wide, pinetree crested the highest one of all.
At the blunted slashing cliff's edge Sweet Vinya asks,
" Which is the dredging way to our cleaving manored home? "
I jointing point in directions northward,
" Faraway in the mizzling misted moors of greyish climes. "
The afternoon sun is doomed to drizzle setting,
gloaming colors warm with clashing passion.
Aiding and abetting Apollo's mallable pallette
we selecting blissful kiss as artistic lovers often do.
The shady-bladed shadows slowly lengthen 'neath the strengthening twilight sky.
Gently wafting drafting smells come to meeting greet us..
Arveen's brickthick hearty fish stew basting in his pipkin pot,
spit-sizzling gill-grilled eel and tender pastried hot cross buns,
flaking in our hungry mouths.
Filled to the overflowing brim with chimnied satisfaction,
the covered hour grows late at hand.
Wifely Vinya enthusiastically alluring,
assures me she will never leave my husband-guiding side..
not a futured minute wasted, we reeling seal our chastely married vows
consumed within the bodied bonds, we attune our holy love.

With no acute aversions we traverse ever closer,
to the abuttals of my stone cluster-worked loaming castle walls.
We inhale the valing perfumed breeze sublimely in fullbloom,
culminating from the parterres a l'anglais wine-scented rosegardens.
We clopping trot across the banking planks
Yorking built above the forking floodgate's mossy flume..
the bursting forth of white watered foam, the silty channel-sluiced moat.
" My Loving Vinya, welcome to the kinning dominion
of your newfound grounded home..
you are my seasoned reason lifelong choice and soon to be crowned Queen. "
My freeborn loyal subjects, blathering happy throngs have gathered..
baldly staring peer, voices shouting loud in their collective breath.
" Our mighty fighting King is no longer bleary,
no sorrowed lines or clinging crags befall our seeing eyes.
We hear no failing wails of teary dreary weeping,
droaning moaning cries or groaning continuations he cannot deny.
His gladsome smiling countenance no longer sags,
happiness does not elude him..
called forth from yesterdays, the gifted present of this day,
or the leisured future of tomorrows. "

In the designated high and holy vestments
of my own border ordered kingdom,
Sweet Loving Vinya is Coronation Crowned with the joysome royal diadem.
We hosting toast in crystal glasses..
sweet with honey, ginger-spiced hippocras wine.
I declare a full moon's month of spelling celebrations
for my red-lipped gypsy wife is now their comely Queen.
The plotting finest of our etching craftsmen have surprised her
with a fetching wedding present..
a smalto likeness of her graceful face,
a curlicue formed mosaic of pottery shards, hardened glass and Salic tiles.
An unfurling window that will scoping open on a daily basis,
bestowing the serenity of Mother Nature's scene below her.
In her first shawling act as lawful Queen, she is ever clever-serious..
we oar-rowing boat to my small private holm.
Tree surrounded island in the middle of the lake,
her fated responsibility is to figging dig and plant her god, responsive.

Treo' Riparius shall feel at shaded home among the gladed Ladylilies she has set adrift..
yellow, mellow buttercups on the bright blue dewing surface waters.
We offer fluttered married homage, ask in reverence for his eternal blessing loam.
The clinging Lady Consorts mingling, gave their wisely wifed reply..
I lay my greatful hand upon Sweet Vinya's swelling belly,
babygrowing happiness is gleaming
from my eyesight in the pureness of delight.


The Gypsy Queen

Glossing lost in functional wondering we champing gallop clipping far
from my father's gypsy camp.
When the mighty breeded steed of knight-errant Morgan LaRue
lifts his noble whinnying head..
stopping in the slated middle of a cobbled flint-rocked clearing that I know so well.
Morgan LaRue booms in deep male voice as he dashing catches me
dosing close in his strongly muscled arms.
" Yes, t'is the very trussled spot to knotting pitch our dwelling tents
for we are in need of a restfilled night. "
I smiling chant in greatful canting praises,
knowing that my personal sodded god, Treo' Riparius
toking spoke in sundog animal tongue..
to guide my husband's black-maned horse, Brash Faestean
to his lodestar secret seeking place of rightful holy worship.

The uncarved harvest moon shines down his cited light,
brighter than the rays of noonday sun.
I clanning stand on tiptoe with my bridegroom husband,
nose to nose no budging of his judging piercing eyes..
the love he has for me glows like the pooling sheltered coves
where the Lady Consorts drifting live.
All his caring married vows of true fidelity
finding, delve their way into my woman's beating heart..
I chancel fall to my praying knees, raise my chantry arms to heaven,
caught divine in thought and mind.
The Ballet Dallied Cupping Lilies call me
to rally round their floating moistened womb..
prepare my virgin offering, the coupling of my body, heart and soul. "

The jostling tousled lad is ever gracious as he helps me lacing rise.
" I am in fated need of my meager dowried bag. "
The answered reply comes not from darting smart Arveen,
but from the laughing persistent mouth of the handsome Morgan LaRue..
quick as a crashing flash of lightning bolt,
he dolting holds my few possessions charting far above my reaching hands.
He says his one sired requirement is for our mated lips to partaking meet and join.
That is not loining right or cooling proper yet, noli me tangere..
prohibited from all showing forms of requested intimate touching,
I shall straying play him for a jestered fool.
" Gentle Master, as you listing wish, " but as he deeming leans in for his gushing prize,
I rushing knock him over.
Destine lessons learned from the best of meddlesome Romany men..
fraughting taught from childhood by my countless cousins,
brooding uncles and their fount of brothers.
I try to raking scrape my reddened nails, lambasting shock so he will let me go..
but my mocking husband knows my every shamming move.
Embracing tighter than a snaking boa, no clefting breath left in me..
he is lento gentle with his leisured skillful kiss
and I feel my sinuous flesh candle-melting into his.
Enthralled with the dangling entanglement of goosebumped shivers..
he drolling rolls my pliant body over,
leaves crying confusion in my sorrowed soul.

He and squired young Arveen deplete complete the sturdy stacking packhorse..
securing sure on solid poles two dutied pitching tents.
Gladsome tidings madly rise within me,
a fluttering butterfly flitting on the cool caressing breeze.
I swearing hear the flaring selfsame whistling teasing tune
that flowing wafted as I shoaling bathed beneath the mighty manroot treelimbs
the arching barked branches of Treo' Riparius,
my personal shawling stalwart god on land.
Now I perceive it was no stranger's veining thoughts
or unseen ghostly apparition that cast curious netted longings
upon my cosseted woman's flesh..
but the sharpened eagle eyes of my barbarian husband
as he began to fall in love with me.
E're bonny long he shall cast his slaking eyes upon my naked female charms again..
I must dalles converge the male and female gods and goddesses,
offer merging homage as my marriage due.
Immersed rehearsing in the gnarled visage held within my hands,
my linking body sinks beneath the cupping lilies..
I swaying pray for supple babies from my milieu couplings,
I pray for cherished love both day and night.
Advised I rise, caping draped in yellow clinging vines wrapped around Treo' Riparius..
steading ready to present the powered seizing prize, the magical sigil gift,
the priceless treasured pearl of my virginity to the husband husking core of Morgan LaRue.
He is up to the falchioned challenge, his eyes drenched deep with loving adoration..
throws all halting caution to the spindling winds of change
and carries me to our marriage bed.
My abundant doving love for him is budding like the Dusky Rose of Sharon
as we fairing share the bodily delights that two true hearts filled with love can bring.

As the spawning light of dawning day appears,
I lay snug embraced within my hugging husband's loving arms.
His hired-squired lad, blond of brow Arveen
lays a pledging wedding feast before our hungry eyes.
There is no gaysome leisured time for pleasured festivities, we must eat in hurried haste..
dress warmly for our further journey homeward.
Young Arveen has keenly mapped the river,
leads the loaded packhorse and boldly black Brash Faestean
to the shallow rocky beds where the water flows in currents swift, not deep.
On the edge's far side thickly vined with underbrush,
the sundered path is narrow through the prickly thicket.
The bald-faced hatred, baiting aspersions of the mean-voiced horde of Romany men
echo in the sterling silence..
the shadowed forest is our dappled friend, kind arming shelter
to keep us pooling cool, not squinty-eye and overheated in the hot of noonday sun.
Green-leafed branches giving lazy way to central meadowlands,
perfumed flowers and lancing dancy grasses..
their gaming names I do not know.
I hear the silver river calling brooking songs that fortune tell us when to stop.
The furpelted tents are lashing pitched again..
then Morgan LaRue and his enterprising lad,
take their gentlemen's leave, giving me some coveted private time.

I embosom dress in Gypsy Queen finery..
fashioned peasant's blouse and swirling skirt,
hooped earrings, bangled bracelets, toerings made of gold.
I secretly removed the jangling jewels
from the petunia padded hips of my mother's wedding dress..
I have sorely missed my ransomed dancing,
my tambourined heart has played no violin tunes.
My fleeting feet have lived in lacking torment,
but now they are freed from their dying tomb.
I build a roaring fire, clinking-shake my rattling tambourine,
lost in plaited woven reverie..
the heated fever leaves me breathless with a fond desire.
I tinkling laugh and splendor sing in gay surrender,
my fawning spirit fathomless free.
I feel deep chasmed eyes felling dwell upon me,
t'is my fascinating husband, Morgan LaRue..
he has not been dazen favored with my gypsy's wild dance of savoring flavored love.
I will never severing change for t'is part of my inbred Romany heritage..
he lingers with his smiling face and tightly clings his arms around my nipped-in waist,
flirting twirls me round and round and I know I am accepted.
Morgan LaRue clowning sets me soundly down, entwines my trembling hand..
we walk uphill to the craggy crest,
watch the red-tinged setting sun,
as his manly kiss ignites the burning passion that I feel.
The flame of blazing campfire beckons in the twilit darkening hour..
Arveen has proved himself as ditting handy.
No finer dining meal than simmering stew and hotcross buns..
we meating eat until our stomachs' full.
Not observed in our castled tent, I nestle closely to my husband's side
and whisper sweetly, " Purview, I shall never leave you. "
I seal this promissory note with my female body, breathing warm with gentle sighs.

The peaking week has quickly passed in searing wedded pleasures,
flickering inspiration grows..
we raveling travel, smell consuming perfume,
a thousand full-bloomed roses drifting meet us.
Stone-cluster worked high turretted walls groan grey as a wooden plank is lowered..
we gloating cross a flowing moat
and my gestering husband says, " Welcome to our dunning humble home. "
I am clefting left to wonder just who and what he is..
my chancing answer is forthcoming in cunning words of strange delight.
" I am the true -born King of all that your galliard eyes survey,
written in the tomes of Domes-Day Book..
and soon you shall be my own adored, coronated Queen. "
His loyal subjects publicly gather, strongly throng about him in joyful jubilation,
" All hail our wedded King, all hail our wedded Queen! "

My Queenship must not be mulling sullied, but standing tried and true ..
on the gleaming eve of my ranking coronation,
hidden deep within the massive castle hall,
my Kingly husband bidding sends for a sanctified priest to lawful marry us again.

My High Royal Husband crowns the jeweled diadem upon my bowing head..
I reeling feel the doling holy fates, the gods and goddesses supreme,
sing their celestial blessing rites.
A mooning month of rightsome feasts and spooning celebrations grand is ordered.
A curative surprise, a taste of sighted joy comes from the best of etching craftsmen..
my windowed face, a gracing signalment of mosaic tilings.
No more forlorn, from each misty morning's dawn
till the determined setting of the sun
shall I nooking look above the private lake to the centered island holm
where I have planning planted the manroot of my ever stalwart god.
He is found surrounded by his floating Lady Consorts, the yellow cupping lilies..
they have granted my petitioned longings
as our married bodies double couple after due payment homage.
My proudly beaming husband lays his Kingly hands upon my swelling belly
and in the coming epiphany week
he will be bellowing greeted by the advent of his princely son, the future king.




My first attempt at an epic poem..I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.



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Reviewed by E T Waldron
Wbm days...;-) miss them...you know of course that I thought this above and beyond ...;-)Your creativity has no bounds
Reviewed by J John (Reader)
Outstanding ..... j
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