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Best Famous Bemuse Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Bemuse poems. This is a select list of the best famous Bemuse poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Bemuse poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of bemuse poems.

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Written by Rg Gregory | Create an image from this poem

the adventures (from frederick and the enchantress – dance drama)

  (i) introduction

  his home in ruins
  his parents gone
  frederick seeks
  to reclaim his throne

   to the golden mountain
   he sets his path
   the enchantress listening
   schemes with wrath

  four desperate trials
  which she takes from store
  to silence frederick
  for ever more

 (ii) the mist

  softly mist suppress all sight
  swirling stealthily as night
  slur the sureness of his steps
  suffocate his sweetest hopes
  swirling curling slip and slide
  persuasively seduce his stride

  from following its essential course
  seal his senses at its source
  bemuse the soil he stands upon
  till power of choice has wholly gone
  seething surreptitious veil
  across the face of light prevail
  against this taciturn and proud
  insurgent - o smother him swift cloud

  yet if you cannot steal his breath
  thus snuffing him to hasty death
  at least in your umbrageous mask
  stifle his ambitious task
  mystify his restless brain
  sweep him swirl him home again


 (iii) the bog

  once more the muffling mists enclose
  frederick in their vaporous throes
  forcing him with unseeing sway
  to veer from his intended way

  back they push and back
  make him fall
  stumble catch
  his foot become
  emmired snatch
  hopelessly at fog
  no grip slip further back
  into the sucking fingers of the bog
  into the slush

  squelching and splotch-
  ing the marsh
  gushes and gurgles
  engulfing foot leg
  chuckling suckles
  the heaving thigh
  the plush slugged waist
  sucking still and still flushing
  with suggestive slurp
  plop slap
  sluggishly upwards
  unctuous lugubrious
  soaking and enjoying
  with spongy gestures
  the swallowed wallowing
  body - the succulence
  of soft shoulder
  squirming
  elbow
  wrist
  then
  all.
.
.
.
.
.
.
but no his desperate palm struggling to forsake the clutches of the swamp finds one stark branch overhanging to fix glad fingers to and out of the maw of the murderous mud safely delivers him (iv) the magic forest safely - distorted joke from bog to twisted forest gnarled trees writhe and fork asphixiated trunks - angular branches hook claw throttle frederick in their creaking joints jagged weird knotted and misshapen petrified maniacal figures frantically contorted grotesque eccentric in the moon-toothed half-light tug clutch struggle with the haggard form zigzag he staggers awe-plagued giddy near-garrotted mind-deranged forcing his sagging limbs through the mangled danger till almost beyond redemption beyond self-care he once again survives to breathe free air (v) the barrier of thorns immediately a barrier of thorns springs up to choke his track thick brier evil bramble twitch stick sharp needles in his skin hag's spite inflicts its bitter sting frederick (provoked to attack stung stabbed by jabbing spines wincing with agony and grief) seeks to hack a clear way through picking swinging at the spiky barricade inch by prickly inch smarting with anger bristling with a thin itch and tingling of success - acute with aching glory the afflicted victim of a witch's pique frederick frederick the king snips hews chops rips slashes cracks cleaves rends pierces pierces and shatters into pointless pieces this mighty barrier of barbs - comes through at last (belzivetta's malignant magic smashed) to freedom peace of mind and dreamless sleep


Written by Rudyard Kipling | Create an image from this poem

The Plea of the Simla Dancers

  Too late, alas! the song
 To remedy the wrong; --
The rooms are taken from us, swept and
 garnished for their fate.
But these tear-besprinkled pages Shall attest to future ages That we cried against the crime of it -- too late, alas! too late! "What have we ever done to bear this grudge?" Was there no room save only in Benmore For docket, duftar, and for office drudge, That you usurp our smoothest dancing floor? Must babus do their work on polished teak? Are ball-rooms fittest for the ink you spill? Was there no other cheaper house to seek? You might have left them all at Strawberry Hill.
We never harmed you! Innocent our guise, Dainty our shining feet, our voices low; And we revolved to divers melodies, And we were happy but a year ago.
To-night, the moon that watched our lightsome wiles -- That beamed upon us through the deodars -- Is wan with gazing on official files, And desecrating desks disgust the stars.
Nay! by the memory of tuneful nights -- Nay! by the witchery of flying feet -- Nay! by the glamour of foredone delights -- By all things merry, musical, and meet -- By wine that sparkled, and by sparkling eyes -- By wailing waltz -- by reckless gallop's strain -- By dim verandas and by soft replies, Give us our ravished ball-room back again! Or -- hearken to the curse we lay on you! The ghosts of waltzes shall perplex your brain, And murmurs of past merriment pursue Your 'wildered clerks that they indite in vain; And when you count your poor Provincial millions, The only figures that your pen shall frame Shall be the figures of dear, dear cotillions Danced out in tumult long before you came.
Yea! "See Saw" shall upset your estimates, "Dream Faces" shall your heavy heads bemuse, Because your hand, unheeding, desecrates Our temple; fit for higher, worthier use.
And all the long verandas, eloquent With echoes of a score of Simla years, Shall plague you with unbidden sentiment -- Babbling of kisses, laughter, love, and tears.
So shall you mazed amid old memories stand, So shall you toil, and shall accomplish nought, And ever in your ears a phantom Band Shall blare away the staid official thought.
Wherefore -- and ere this awful curse he spoken, Cast out your swarthy sacrilegious train, And give -- ere dancing cease and hearts be broken -- Give us our ravished ball-room back again!

Book: Reflection on the Important Things