Arthur Poems - Poems about Arthur

Crows come And crows go But Arthur always was. For years the lofty oak had been His look-out every day And soon as Mother chucked the scraps His shiny eyes Would spot the crumbs From eighty yards away. No craftier crow In all the land Than...Read the rest...

One was trained To be the king of the table One was bred To be the king of the dead Hand in hand, down the path they walk Hand in hand, watching the future they sought Flash by In the blink of...Read the rest...

We were bused from Sacramento to Reno. We rode a train from Reno to Salt Lake City. We then bused from SLC to Kansas City. Somewhere along the I-80 route, we crossed the Great Divide. At the time, the Kansas...Read the rest...

My favourite poet is ME I’m obsessed with pooping and pee So I’m a crap poet Oh boy do I know it My poem fans may disagree! Some people may think I’m a schnook For writing a second rude...Read the rest...

Guinevere Was King Arthur's darling dear, Once day, she said, "I'm sorry M'Lord, I gave your nephew, Mordred, your sword". Mordred was not a man one should entrust. King Arthur was a bit more than nonplussed. Guinevere said, "Don't sweat it", But...Read the rest...

Dear Arthur, I haven't met you yet, But I know you'll be here soon, And I can't wait to see your face, And hold you in my arms. I know you'll fall into our lives, Like long-awaited rain in Spring, Melting the...Read the rest...

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Born on Scottish soil Both writer and physician, he delivered us Sherlock Holmes. A spiritualist too, he believed in fairies; possibly in gnomes!...Read the rest...

Tribute to Poet Arthur Vaso, How great is Art, how great is Art!...Read the rest...

Champagne and wine Elixirs of the elite's delight beverages of the upper classes as they rendezvous and converse amid soirées decked in elegance mingling among their latest art acquisitions envied, even by the Louvre The wonderful taste of caviar In opulent ballrooms, near...Read the rest...

The gentlest soul springs from the hardest heart —when the fighting is over (Stonehenge: March, 1981)...Read the rest...

‘She’s on again - the annual campin’ trip regatta, and we’ve got ourselves together for our plans to Wonnangatta. The high country; you can’t beat it for the peace and quiet unless of course some plans get...Read the rest...

Oh, my darling Arthur, this euphoric feeling what is it? Is it something from sensual pleasure? Or something in my dreams? Is it perspiration glistening on a manly chest? Or when I have rivulets of...Read the rest...

The Sleepers sleep beneath the Mound, And wait, in holy Slumber bound. When will those Knights of Arthur’s ken Ride forth to free the land, again? When fire and sword, injustice rule And plots hatched by magicians cruel Oppress with plague,...Read the rest...

Mysterious as the night, Shadowy figure of towering height, Eyes of black, perhaps contrite, He walks in starlight. The night is fine, As the oaks intertwine. From a window of mine, I watch him pass the vine. Sleep is not imminent, In this hour...Read the rest...

The Wild Hunt by Michael R. Burch (King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table have been reported as ghostly hunters, near Devon, around Halloween.) Near Devon, the hunters appear in the sky with Artur and Bedwyr sounding...Read the rest...