An ode to Apollo
I have taken for myself a new muse,
Of whom I shall ponder his many virtues.
His wonderful laugh and his mighty fine ass,
His gentle, warm nature cannot be surpassed.
He is gracious and kind, strong and defined,
Masculine, and very refined.
He struts with such power that can only be found,
Where honour and valiance eternally abound.
He makes Fionn and Cuchulainn look like puny wee boys,
When he turns on his heel and smiles with such poise.
His hand on his jacket as he holds the lapel,
Such sins from a lady could such actions impel.
The seat of his jacket as it glides just across…
Oh dear now my thinking is all at a loss!
When Heaven they made him and sorted his bones,
His organs and sinews and neat muscle tone,
They placed them together in perfection for God
To breathe in his nostrils a soul we’d applaud.
From the page of a book of legend and myth,
He surges forth with the prick of birth’s trick.
To wander among the fields of man’s end,
To the grey, speckled lake did God choose him to send.
Anchored to there, through the world he did seek,
The lessons in life that make him so sweet.
The world is an oyster and he is the pearl,
He is the diamond dreamt by many a girl.
His power and his humanity, his charm and his grace,
The beauty within is shown on his face.
He wears it with style and such quietude,
A mere glance at his soul evokes gratitude.
His chivalrous manners awaken the soul,
And brings you to God, to ever extol.
He brings you to praying like never before,
To kneel before God, to ever Adore.
To pray to Our Lady, our Mother Above,
With such care and devotion and abounding love.
No legend, no myth, nor his mighty fine hips,
Can ever his sanctity, ever eclipse.
Warrior Princess
