The Great Fandosa

The Great Fandosa

Status: Finished

Genre: Poetry

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Status: Finished

Genre: Poetry

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Summary

A dream that I had long ago..
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Summary

A dream that I had long ago..

Content

Submitted: February 17, 2017

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Content

Submitted: February 17, 2017

A A A

A A A


 

 

I went out to see the great Fandosa,

Skipping there e’er so merrily.

He lived in a stately mansion shaded by a huge mimosa,

Yet still I made my way there so nonchalantly.

 

I approached his huge colonnaded porch,

Sweetly scented by a row of huge azaleas,

Where at nighttime he would sit by lantern light or torch,

Dreaming of some exotic adventure with a new troop of fellows.

 

“So they say, if we just follow the rising sun,

That treasure of the chief Sultan might be undone,”

Said he,

“ In a kingdom of both gem and gold,

Sitting so cavalierly by the surging sea.”

 

From a peach meridian cigar puffed he,

a cloud of sweet voluptuous smoke,

Then I inquired of him, “well just how could this be?”

And he coughed until I thought that he might choke.

 

“So the story goes, there sits a majestic island,

Where exists this magnificent city by the surging sea.

If we can only anchor ship on the luscious golden sand,

We will then be free to lay hand upon divine treasure indeed!

Yes, we might then live more contented than any man may ever be!”

 

“Oh dear son,

in the distance by the harbor dance the bon bon girls,

Clothed only in rainbow gowns of sea mist,

Who approach from a garden of candy cacti swirls,

Desiring nothing more on the moment than to give each of us a kiss.

Yes, such a divine kiss that no mortal man would e'er want to miss!

 

And oh, my dear lad, upon each rough neck

those gentle maidens lay garlands of sweet comilia and belladona rose,

lifting us high like divine spirits from our deck,

folllowing only where the gypsy sprite goes...,

yes, going only where that gossimer fairy doth go.

 

“How might we make it into this enchanted land,”

Asked I to this stately gent,

“ just set sail to the east by the moonbeams and the wind,

And flow whence the angels doth send;

For we live life only once, dear lad,” spoke he,

Never ever to come back again...

   No,  my dear son,

truth is we may ne'er get to come back again.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2017 H.L. Dowless. All rights reserved.

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