Beowulf Poems


Premium MemberGrins and Groaners: Folio 2

Q: What would Roy Rogers have been called if he had been a singing farmer?
A: King of the Plowboys.

Q: In the Beowulf saga, who was a male child of the hag Grendel?
A: A real sonofawitch.

Q: What's the slogan for an ad campaign for a certain fabric in Copenhagen?
A: "Something is cotton in the state of Denmark".

Q: What is fear of joining a fitness club?
A: Gymtimidation.

Q: When she worked onstage in a comedy, what could actress Elaine do for an audience?
A: Keep it in Stritches.

Q: What might you call the LGBT version of the glass slipper story?
A: "Transgenderella".

Q: Also for theatre and film buffs--What would you call public transportation in a ghost town?
A: A streetcar named Bizarre.

Q: Why did the man tell the 911 operator to please send help quickly when his spouse appeared to be choking?
A: It was a matter of wife or death.

Q: What is someone who hitchhikes across the country studying different dialects?
A: A roads scholar.

Q: How did the Glasgow "Evening Times" reporter headline the story of the party boat that sank after hitting an iceberg?
A: Scots on the rocks!
Categories: beowulf, humor,
Form: I do not know?

Premium MemberWelcome August

Anonymously I remain faceless in a soundproof booth when dictators reign
Unforgivable leader guiltless non-truths, I’ll hide from the suffering in vain
God willing I’ll move unseen unknown like the Beowulf poet wounded within                                                                                                                             
Underhanded sinful strife crushing the heavens with tunes of a sad violin
Sonnets I’ll write of undecided weak given into evil who’ll willfully applaud
The fifty percent who stood divided, if fifty fifty then there is no room for God
Categories: beowulf, america, analogy, angst, conflict,
Form: Acrostic


Thankless

What a mighty web we weave
Throughout the times,
Throughout that raging river of poetry
That thankless flow of consciousness.
Possibly, the very beginning of story telling
With beautiful couplets that produced the likes of Beowulf 
That carried on for centuries and centuries
To possess the spirit of Shakespeare 
That carries on today 
With you or me
With it's titillating and frivolous free verse
And masterful spoken word
Rap even
But all thankless
Categories: beowulf, appreciation, deep, introspection, meaningful,
Form: Free verse

British Lit Man

Let’s take a journey 
To a far off place
To visit a man full
Of many ways to entertain 
He’ll teach you some things 
About king James 
From learning to interacting 
You’ll always be excited 
May be some vocabulary 
But we can’t forget 
Beowulf nor Sir Gawin
And the Green Knight
Though many stories 
He’ll also let you express through poetry
Though in time you may forget 
But Mr.Cole was for sure the best
Categories: beowulf, 12th grade, teacher,
Form: Free verse

Premium MemberBelieve In Your Poetry

You must believe, to have your poetic 
soul become reality.
Unlike any other, I hope you are!!
Dull, Beowulf poetry do not re-create.
Speak your soul, whatever that be.

Don't compare your writings to
others, you will create fragility.
Write of subjects that brighten
your soul like a star.
Not just long words, they make
me pronate.
If you are willing, write poetry that
sings of thee!

         
             12-30-2020
             12:30pm PSt
Categories: beowulf, encouraging,
Form: Free verse


Premium MemberSubmerge

Dipping into Beowulf with Grendel,
  and Chaucer's Canterbury Tales;
  Wading into Paradise with Milton,
  then submerging with the Bard:
  Sinking deep into Lear and Othello 
  Hamlet and Macbeth, trying not to
  drown. Rapidly surfacing to the 
  Tempest! gulping some fresh air.
  
  Now sailing toward the Five Romantics,
  In Xanadu did Kublai Khan... 
  Water, water, everywhere!
  and so many drops to drink...

  Poetry aficionados reside on dry land,
  Yet life, fully savored, lies deep in ocean sands.
Categories: beowulf, ocean, poetry, poets, voyage,
Form: Sonnet

Premium MemberVillanelle: It's All Been Said Said Better and Bolder Before

Villanelle : It's all been said said better and bolder before

It's all been said said better and bolder before
Worse now most repeat over and over again
No shibboleths now to test smooth words more hollow

Those who trouble not to delve into sages yore
Make not but weak links in the derivative chain
It's all been said said better and bolder before

Those who toiied without e'en recompense for valour
Toiled for insights ripped out of seething guts in pain
No shibboleths now to test smooth words more hollow

Homer Murasaki Valmiki Boccaccio
Gilgamesh Beowulf Pillow Sei Shonagon
It's all been said said better and bolder before

How much the " creative " writing courses ignore
Those whose suffering wrought talents in deep dungeon
No shibboleths now to test smooth words more hollow

The reign of digital maths spells poiein woe
Business minds now serve as mid-wives during birth-pain
It's all been said said better and bolder before
No shibboleths now to test smooth words more hollow

© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2018
Categories: beowulf, art, birth, creation, muse,
Form: Villanelle

Oh Denmark

Oh,Denmark 
There is a dragon still alive a live 
With all the gold
I hope that Beowulf will finally have his day 
Heorot will help the king 
With a sling of his sword 
No wounds will hurt 
No dragons will live 
In Denmark anymore
People will love the king 
Finally they can win at something 
They can say they are from Denmark 
The dragons will come but they will die in their own fires
King Hrothgar builds Heorot Hall 
Shield Sheafson who founded the ruling house 
The temples of Plato will take a incense of dragon's blood
Virgil will rhyme how the Lord saved the king
Plato will talk about a far off land call Woodland
With all the forests and rain 
In the south Schleswig
Has trees and meadows that grow 
There rose thorn's are a pain 
I hope I can kill all of them before I'm too old 
I watch the crows and wish I could fly away 
With my baby and Marius by my side 
On a dragon's back. 
To the land of wood and trees.
Categories: beowulf, youth,
Form: Sonnet

Fertile Crescent, Ii

Fertile Crescent
Ghosts of pharaohs
Branded timeless in stone
Reigning order
Condemning the vilified,
as it is published by
The Royal Geographical Society:
Syria as the Gateway between East and West
Leonard Woolley
The Geographical Journal
Vol. 107, No. 5/6 (May - Jun., 1946), pp. 179-190)
And why shouldn’t this be so?
 
Beowulf, an earliest epic
Of Old English
How proud and agile to be able
To confer your legacy in written format
Onto your generations and incursions ~
Categories: beowulf, war,
Form: Prose

Hot Dogs With No Buns

I should have tattoos
I should have a woman
instead I carry a purse full of empty.

Thats right-return me back to the womb
away from Bad tv
                  Bad people
                 cheap food
                 cheap women
                 cheap love

I should blame this on bad liquor
but I don't drink 

I should blame this on drugs but
I don't take'm.

angels pay a price for there halo,
there peaceful garden.
maybe I'm better off pondering Picasso
or figuring out Beowulf instead of sucking
the blood off of my cracked lips.
Categories: beowulf, angst
Form: Free verse

Santa Monica Pier

Santa Monica Pier

I remember watching 
the ocean roll on the shore,
wave after wave, 
crashing down on the solid sand
and I idly staring back
wondering if the Atlantic was as blue.

I watched him light a candle
and move in the swaying light
from a bygone age.

The flame flickered, so fragile,
it leans and sways in the cold breeze

My burning love is the flame in the lamp
From antiquity--a pre-industrial artifact

An oil lamp of glass from Rome
Bronze from Carthage
A terra-cotta from Athens

He smiles at me 
in a flicker of light and 
knows all my past like a line from Virgil
A chronicle from Homer
An essay from Milton, a history of Herodotus

And me, ignorant,
knowing nothing of him 
can only quote 
from Ovid, 
	Beowulf, 
		Caedmon and Gilgamesh.
 
The flame descends,
From the nape of the lit candle,
	 and we are lying in darkness on a spring night.

Everything in history is forgotten 
	and yesterdays are not so many 
	as night descends, 
		the lit moon cast in the glow 
			of the lamplight of our love.
Categories: beowulf, sociallight, history, light,
Form: Prose Poetry
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