Poetry Cornucopia

With every once upon a time

Comes a sad, yet joyous rhyme.

The rhyme of a peasant man

Holding out his hand

His palms praying  for something more

Than his own haunting lore.

In a competition of princes

He knows he doesn’t stand a chance

Yet each day, he kneels.

Yet each day, he feels,

She could turn to him

With merely a glance.

Years have passed,

And this peasant man still kneels

Just waiting for his one dance.

Little had he known,

She had only put on a show

To please their majesty,

The king and queen.

“I hath always loved you,

I mean,

What hath a prince

But his money and scene?”

The peasant man could only let a stare

For who has he been,

But just a man, sitting there?

He had no money,

He worked no shifts,

He had no talents,

He brought no gifts.

He was nothing for a princess,

His pleading hands so bare,

His face but a mess,

Yet the princess loved him

Just for sitting there.

“I hath not seen jealousy

As that I hath for thy princes,”

He said,

As the king and queen trade their winces.

“Yet, my lovely princess,

My love for you hath grown to excess,

And I hope only that you shall join me

In this eternal dance.”

The king and queen sent for the guards

“You must prevent this foolish peasant’s arms

From being set upon our precious daughter,”

Exclaimed the queen,

And though the guard was hesitant,

But hadn’t thought he could have fought her.

The peasant man took the princess’s hand

And led her towards the dance floor.

With the guards quickly approaching,

The peasant man and the princess encroaching

Upon every boundary ever laid,

But determined that they have this made,

The situation had become more dangerous then ever before.

The peasant man had only confidence in his mind

That the princess would finally break every bind.

Each tie with the previous world

Slowly would crumble

One by one,

Until the job was finally done.

The guards and their majesty finally break in,

And with a certain chill

Crawling up and down the peasant man’s skin,

The princess proclaimed,

“I take this good man’s hand

For he hath shown me my long-lost land

Which need be restored.

Now, I say,

I shall take thy wretched commands

And thy unfathomable demands

Nevermore.”