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The King Of Hearts
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.
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