I march on fulfilling my mission, harboring maiden's beauty in a mindful vision ...
Snow from right to left
THE TROUBADOR’S SONNET ®
Original, yesteryear reflections of a vagabond spirit by Donna J. Fennel.
Quilled on this chilly 30th day of September, 2004 ~ while destiny I explore. More of this keeper's Gothic lore to pass through Autumn's dazzling door.
I was overwhelmed with desire to wander and ponder one moonlit eve ~
‘Twas during awakening, wanton witching hour of power, I do believe.
When whom should I meet, but an ethereal enchantress ere endearing ~
Combing her gleaming tresses of raven wave ‘midst a candlelit clearing.
O, maiden fair in this lullaby lair, I have come a-courtin’ from afar ~
Possessed, I must impress, by seduction of night symposium and stars.
While being hypnotized by your spell, your face and grace of carriage ~
Now I wish to ask thee very well for beauty’s tender hand in marriage.
Alas, I have viewed you, lovely lass, gathering yew in the morn’s dew ~
And wildflowers in the Springtide, while daybreak meadowlarks croon.
‘Mongst all that is beautiful and bright, as woodland whispers in delight ~
This bard of sonnet croons to one in bonnet of moon, as your master tonight.
Fair one, together we two could view decadence of dawn a-breakin’ soon ~
But for now, lovely frau, may we kiss bathed in pearlized essence of moon?
‘Pon premiere glance you entrance, evoking pulsation from thy temptation ~
For I, a lonely troubadour be in search of thee, my sweet mystery of elation.
Lo, mistress of moon, I can offer thee merely dresses of homespun weave ~
For I am nimble with spindle, and design yarn of farm fine from my sheep.
And I could offer thee of such pulchritude a bounty of food from my land ~
Tho I cannot bestow thee with servant finery to wait on us foot and hand.
Sharing and caring ‘midst wind and rain, o’er my myriad of humble plain ~
Would thee consider marrying this merry mister, leaving thy wood untame?
One possessing cavalcade of braid, I would be pleased if thee, mystic maid ~
Would join me in matrimony, love, statement witnessed now by morn dove.
Love, life could be our passion play, not as pawns during dreamy dawn of day ~
For our mothers' wombs of hostels be where we are prepared for life's travesty.
If my life is shielded from searching sun by drawn curtains, when play is done ~
It would be cast into the fathomless abyss of time, without your hand in mine.
While your fantasy of face is haloed by none other than Luna’s hue of butter ~
I would be pleased to give thee a moment or two, to consider my proposal true.
As the trinkets surrounding Orion’s Belt, night watchmen, wean from my view ~
Their brilliant, armored sheen is being replaced with my passion ignited by you.
Now they diminish into shadow specters, while I remain your valiant protector ~
I shall slay dragons should our path they cross, for my blade is brutal, raven locks.
I welcome thee into my loving lair of care, as heart seeks to escape from thy breast ~
O, one who charms, collapse into my loving arms, while we fulfill destiny’s quest.
As I steal a moment or two to quench my thirst at a sensuous, serpentine stream ~
Maiden’s reflection is mirrored there with moon-kissed aura, halo to her face serene.
I am entranced within her beauty, while enchanted by her adoration of nature anew ~
Yet it seems as tho I am bewitched by a dream; ‘tis when she vanished from my view.
She is everywhere I go, while my sojourn as troubadour takes me through misty moors ~
Yea, her eternal flame of memory I shant ignore, while this world awaits me to explore.
For when I had surrendered to maiden’s embrace, ‘midst garland grove of forest place ~
I knew that this beguiling, carnal intrusion was merely my figment of optical illusion.
Alas, no matter where I sojourn I yearn, for her presence burns and churns within me ~
Even tho I remain a vigilant, vexed vagabond, in search of soul on my spiritual journey.
O, I would hold hand of Death, if it meant being caressed by her breast of vexing curse ~
Tho I have lost this beauty’s love, I still gaze ‘pon her above in starlight infinity’s purse.
So caught up in the rhythm of her mystifying touch, how I miss my raven maiden much!
Her ghost I kiss while I persist with my pilgrimage far, yet I am guided by lady's star.
While for her I do lament, this life persistently presents myriad of offense that I defend ~
Yet in my abyss of soul I know, inside me 'til time’s end, lives my forever fantasy friend.
®2004-09 Donna J. Fennel, Owner of Donnadreamland. All rights reserved.®
Copying, photocopying, distribution or transmission of the above original work and Web content
is strictly prohibited without authorized permission in writing from the author, Donna J. Fennel.
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