The Belle of Kentucky

The Belle of Kentucky                                 September 29, 2013

Winter harvests little in the way of Life 

Other than Death or soulless hibernation,

Whilst Spring wreaks Eternal hope 

And our posterity as the foliage blooms en vogue!

Summer nights in the South are humid, yet quaint,

As the thoroughbreds gallop on the farms,

And there is the Autumn and her descent of leafy flames,

Slowly meandering through the air we breathe!

I come from the Foothills of the Great Smoky Mount,

My heartbeat, though, resides North near the coalmines,

Upon the bluegrass of the hills in her old Kentucky town;

O'! How I doth fancy her locale!

My belle! Seeing is but believing,

Yet she never fails to set my soul a-fire!

My sweet little belle and soul mate ever more!

Kentucky's finest as the wildcats and cardinals argue!

Let the banjos pick away as the blue moon is overhead,

And Jimmy Beam shall flow unfettered!

There may be moonshine stills and the fiddlers at play,

But only my Kentucky belle shall keep my heart and soul at bay!

She may set my spirit a-fire per the Daytime's Arbiter,

But I am at her behest by the campfire at night.

My lady of the lilacs! My muse for all time!

Let her be mine, Sweet Lord! 

Let my ardors not be denied!

I seek her warm fingers' graces upon the icicles on my skin,

Lest the days take night and go from clear to opaque.

She claims she is no model in the classical sense,

Yet, I doth protest much! She is Miss America to me!
She is like a fine wine, aged to perfection!
She shall tarry on towards my heart ad infinitum!

Lady Splendor! Lady Luck! Ma chère amour!

Never shall ye perish whilst my flame burneth white!

Upon the times of our births, Venus and Mars aligned,

And God decreed I am Romeo to your Juliet

In a sonnet characteristic of Shakespearean rhyme!

Star-crossed lovers? Nay! Let us manifest our own Verona

Between the bleeding heart of Tennessee

And her grace in Kentucky!

Tho' our colleges may not agree,

Yet our love is Nature's magnetic amore!

O' Father! Take me towards her highlands!

If it is meant to be, I will be my belle's hill topper!

We shall construct a cabin in the style of Lincoln's logs,

And live simply, our mutual love alone to sustain our ev'ry supper!

Only you, My Father, are perfect and Supreme,

Yet our love shall be in the spirit of your graces and The Son's

As we sojourn forever our splendor into Eternity!

We shall never leave the Church ev'ry Sabbath

Forgetting Our Covenant with Him.

Our Love's Prayer: A Solemn Covenant to Our Lord Thy God:

Let us sing of Your Worthiness, 

My Sweet Lord Divine!

Let us make haste, not waste, 

For it would be sin to remain supine!

Due diligence is the key, lest love is forced to await,

And never should one stall 

The inevitability of a Holy Tryst a single day!

I shall hitch my ride and plow 

Through the Cumberland Mount as did Boone,

Past Jellico and O! I shall be in the Colonel's hometown!

A picnic would suffice of course, 

But is not necessary in the least,

For all I want of you is to tame my soul, 

This Tennessean's inner wildebeest!