No pallid bust of Pallas, but a bronzed Celtic Queen, <br />Her helm is on and her sword is drawn, <br />Her darkly bronzed skin shimmers with a metallic sheen. <br /> <br />A bearskin cape is loosely draped over her shoulders, <br />Exposing her chest and beautiful breasts, <br />Petulant breasts that hang like pendulous boulders. <br /> <br />Achilleos' art, rendered by an unknown sculptor, <br />Beautifully done, she is the one <br />Watching me as I write, like a keen eyed raptor. <br /> <br />She keeps company with the Angel on my shoulder, <br />If they approve or they are moved, <br />They can only share their feelings with each other. <br /> <br />Sometimes wakeful or writing what comes to me in my sleep, <br />With my scarred heart that's been torn apart, <br />I record tales that will make Angels and statues weep...<br /><br />Karl Stuart Kline<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/3-6-celtic-queen-no-pallid-bust-of-pallas/
