Wednesday, 23 November 2011


I have ridden the fray,
lance couched to battle.
The holy Grail you guard so well
from lips of penitent knights –
humility does not crease me.
I come on bended knee
to drink.

Keeper of the Grail,
in Glastonbury your castle stands
with sinks and chairs
and mattresses.
Women who guard your walls
neither bow nor weep
but stand silent at the sides,
their sweet music heard only
by their ears and yours.

Cauldron of birth and rebirth
to which and from which
holy blood has flown,
to which and from which
all things have flown,
kept sacred from kneeling knights
that only sweet maidens may press
their lips to thine.

Copyright ©1997, 2008, and 2011 Daniel J. Bishop
Originally published in the Sangreal limited edition chapbook, 1997.

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