watching over with many guises
who keep their eyes
There’s a corncob tied in his flowery hair
believed to be magical by some indian prayer
made to know what lies ahead out there
You’re a virgin to the darkened night
of street corner lust and neon lights,
where the jester’s angry and the mermaid’s undressed
the devil’s eye watching at the queen’s own request.
The lion sleeps quietly in the blowing wind
as his elf looks away, but listens in
to the mandolin's strum of a private love,
the wind’s eye always watching from high above:
‘cause sometimes you tend to reach too far
grabbing that first bright evening star,
at peace of mind with a frivolous tongue
his eyes will twinkle with a believing love.
then you’ll ponder the passion of a true virgin kiss,
tilting your head slightly, about to feel the touch of his lips...
... but with his guises faithfully watching
he becomes assured of his power
as you bowed your head innocently,
at peace with a flower.
Share This Poem
This Poems Story
Fantasy story about an overprotective Druid with his minions with the help of a queen who watches over a young Banduri to make sure she stays a virgin to be part of the Gallizenae. This poem coincides and melds with modern times verbiage and events. The art by Brian Froud illustration was my prompt for this story. See if you can find elements of the poem within.