The Troubadour's Plea

Tell me, Sarah, do your sullen minions recognize
Me now? May I pass through your iron gate
Unharmed, or must I fight, or must I seek the means
To scale your wall in some dark corner they won't
See? You ask a lot of one so lazy. I'm no knight.
I'm just a penniless and ancient troubadour. I've
Learned what warms your charming cockles,
Know the tunes of songs you like, and also know
How vain you are. Third, and plainest, daughter
Of, by all accounts, a feckless king, you hunger
For the flattery someone who isn't only rich
But also beautiful receives, and I'm prepared
To give you that, and any other thing you want,
But first I need to have your minions let me
Through that gate.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 138 times
Written on 2019-02-01 at 17:24

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This is sad, but I like the idea of "troubadour," the ancient poet-singer of Middle Ages. And, the minions. Maybe the sullen minions need a good thrashing. :D