[Old Sarge]

My Tower

My search is over at last, this night,
I found a dwelling that suits me right,
lit by lantern and Luna so bright,
with not a disturbing soul in sight.

To my tower I go, without heavy heart,
a place of my own, a place that's apart,
where I might, in solitude, practice my art,
hiden from eyes, sharp word or cruel dart,

Where I toil, and spin, as I weave verse and song,
free from the ones who have done so much wrong,
A sanctum, a place where I feel I belong,
where a heart that's been wounded can again become strong.

So, gaze up skyward, and what might you see,
in a lonely tower far from starlight and sea?
A man might turn wistful, or a lady might swoon,
as verse and song weave to salve a heart's wound.

(c) 07-05-04 by JSR

[Soaring Feather]

Have I told you of
the days of old
when maidens fair
wore cloaks of gold
and mailed knights
from head to toe
wore silver pounded
and bent to mould
in towers strong to hold
the bonded lovers from the cold

Whose chivalry is not dead
upon ones whole wounded head
and broken heart is left to bleed
under the tower's weed

To the tower scaling high
up through the cloudy sky
there near the stars a respite
in black velvet and diamond shards
light by nights shinning stars
a drama does unfold for the
lonely and the bold.....

bentfeather
07.05.04

[Jen]

*swoon* Beautiful poem Sarge. Thank you so much for sharing it with me.

[E.G.C.]

BTTT!!!!!!

[Cindy]

That's heartfelt and timeless.