Best Chain Mail Poems
"Blind Man Turns"
Rest easy in my lull, Love
Love
is not the gentle goodnight, Love
in the beguiling
silence of Lost Lovers' Woods
It is the war we
all wager
reflections
in each other
We run from it
We run to it
The Labyrinth
we all are
striding fresh
through greener than green grass
roads we never thought
we’d journey
futures like bruises
bruises like roses blooming
bruises like sunsets fading
War torn
We All are
the softer, truth seeking and
the fallen, sharp metal shards
Love runs harder
than war
Love runs towards
you with its arrows
Bleeding slowly
Bleeding fast
Love
Heads or
Tails
Hearts
saved
Heads
rolling
Tongues
dry for a pass
wanting wet
trysts for duelling
tails short and long
tales to be read
to the dreams
that once in the past
were futures
formed like a sprouting bean in the belly
from
Love
Falling free and hard
short lived butterflies
wings transparent
veined in vanity
are
the Brave
waiting for
the burn
Love
bleeds hot
bleeds fast
Poets kissing soft warm bellies
whispering breath over sensual hearts
where the hot
holy see parts
singing
“this will last”
The Golden Grail
shining
waiting
for you
door
open
without
chain mail
holds a heart
bled and worn
An offering on your short
spare alter
never entirely yours
but always mine
blind man turns
his heart ripe like an apple
open and
star seeded
Light Burns
waiting to be tasted
a swallowed soul
without feathers
born again
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
Categories:
chain mail, love,
Form:
Free verse
When the night wind changes course
sending breezes from the north,
when farmer's fields lie brown and fallow
and empty ropes swing from the gallows,
when children's faces are drawn and gaunt
and earth-bound spirits wail and haunt,
when eagles scan the barren snow
and field mice shiver deep below,
The dragon stirs deep in his lair,
the townfolk sense him with despair,
the mountain rumbles as he wakes,
he spreads his wings, the valley quakes.
He snorts and breathes a sulphur fire
and eyes his cache with dark desire,
gold and gemstones line his cave,
a sea of diamonds with emerald waves.
The trees are black against the snow,
one warrior stands to face his foe,
chain mail clanking, his sword is honed,
he goes to face his fate alone.
Fire breathing, wing-spread vast,
the warrior is at first aghast,
the dragon's chest and stomach, too,
shine with gems of multi-hues.
He'd slept so long upon his loot,
he wore a jewel-encrusted suit.
He saw the warrior's weapon glint
and chuckled at this innocent.
The dragon swooped and breathed his breath,
the warrior smelled the scent of death.
Many times the dragon dove
and set aflame the fields and groves.
Lost in this game, he gave no thought
to the warrior who mattered naught,
and as the dragon flew by low
the warrior drew his mighty bow.
The bow and arrows were Elfen-hewn,
inscribed with words in ancient runes.
The warrior held his breath and aimed
and steeled himself against the flames.
The dragon saw the arrow cocked
and turned his head, their eyes were locked.
The arrow's flight was straight and true,
into the dragon's eye it flew.
The warrior was elected king,
he wore fine jewels and heavy rings,
but though he tried, he found no peace,
he'd formed some strange bond with the beast.
The corpse was plucked clean of its jewels
and all the people danced like fools,
though he was king of hill and glen,
they never saw him smile again.
Categories:
chain mail, adventure, fantasy, imagination, science,
Form:
Ballad
hot is the noon sun
melting flowers in the mud…
arena cheers for raw blood
I glare at my foe
his dagger raking bruised knee
…weight of life upon my shield
fierce blow cracks his neck
rudis pressed on stained chain mail…
breath smelling of freedom’s prize
audience casts flowers
thumbs hunger for next combat
more slaves to kill… but not me.
©
*rudis---when a gladiator is set free as a slave
after a bout, he is given a wooden sword,
named rudis.
For Amy Green’s Choka for Chokehold
By nette onclaud
Categories:
chain mail, life, war,
Form:
Choka
born under the sea, an irresistible force
two bodies reluctantly embrace, shunting, shifting, tectonic drifting
alongside the southern Iapetus Ocean
equatorial deep-time child of Laurentia and Avalonia
journey northward, surfacing, submerging
surfing the waves again, a colder Hibernian dalliance
precariously perched on Eurasian plate
old bedrock confused, youthful erosion above the ancient order
darkness entombed around channelled winter light
early New Grange civilisation, the Boyne valley before the blood
river mouth vikings, raiding, assimilating
birth of the coming capital, eastern stronghold, Baile Atha Cliath
chain-mail Norman conquerors castle-building
appointing pious supplicants with sword, cloth, crook and cross
wholly unholy alliances unravel
rival hierarchies sharing ill-gotten earthly reward from overseas
saintliness, brutality, men and women
expanding Christendom, pagan kingdoms adjusting to defeat
Patrick, Brigid, Columba, Columbanus
Irish civilising roman catholic conduits, Dalriata to Lindisfarne
outreaching, a strand of Irish character
yet to encounter future revisionary metaphysical thought
protestant rebellion, mainland overspill
praying elites competing, preying on the island's god-fearing people
avian watchers on Skellig pinnacles
warm ocean currents well-up, catching the southwestern gale
enduring the ill-will of nature and man
supplanting, subjugating, saving souls, the power of might and fear
treachery within or well beyond the pale
fair and dark hair, ginger genetics existing on the edge of life
tossed thin people hanging on, many leaving
scraping blighted ground, returning to the sea, promise of the unknown
Categories:
chain mail, community, history, ireland, time,
Form:
Narrative
"Chain Mail"
Amor Amore Amour
Armor Armour
Chain Mail
l’amour
Read red
Written and worn
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
Categories:
chain mail, muse, symbolism, woman,
Form:
Free verse
In the bay of icy mists, the viking ghost ships arrive, sails set full ahead,
Crashing anchors rattle loose, plunging beneath the cold murky surf,
As the hailing horns of the dead, announce to their lord, Odin, that
Valor's courageous have arrived, and wish to enter, the great halls of
Valhalla.
Here the cold winds of the north dwell, it's chilling
Breezes flow freely, through the phantom warriors spirits.
But these rough men fear not death, nor it's harsh breath, for they
Are vikings of the northern kingdoms, and they have come for
Their last rewards treasure, to enter beyond the gates of Valhalla,
And are armed ready to fight, beside their God Odin,
In victorious battle.
In these waters of the ethereal unknown passage,
The cracking and heaving, of these heavily
Laden vessels made of vapors thin mists,
Send an eerie chill down the backs, of mortal men.
As mountain icebergs float upon the wind
Chilled oceans surface, the Valkyries approach,
Smiling beneath their shimmering chain-mail of
Brilliance honor.
On the evergreen shores, a timbered lined hall stands,
It's gates of golden pitch blaze, with fires white
Hot flames of those concurred, their souls scream
For penance mercy.
Two long swords, Chris-crossed are the gates steel dead bolts lock,
Above it's embers glow, a fierce eagle with red crimson eyes,
Grapples, it's sharpen claws, cutting deeply into the oaken shields,
On the thatched roof of the golden hall.
A lone wolf beneath therein, passes sniffing at the
Garments of the fallen men, if fears scent, the wolf so smells,
Cast out is this soul, and dammed it is forevermore.
Within the many souls do enter, a hardy welcoming at the feasting
Table mead and honey wine, is set before these hero's of honor.
But outside the ships remain tethered, awaiting for their masters safe
Return, unaware of Thor's approach, his mighty hammer set at the
Ready.
Striking with thunders raw force, the hammer of power,
Brakes against the sheer ice, as quick as the lightning's flash,
Freezing tidal waves clash upwards, swallowing whole all evidence,
That these ghost ships ever existed.
Oh Valhalla, I pledge thee my life, my fighting spirit, my blood and
Body given in the name of Odin, for thy honor sake, shall I live and die,
Behold the vow's pledge of these Nordic men, known as the Vikings.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Categories:
chain mail, adventure, history, imagination, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
Bedeviled by those pleading eyes
deep as the secrets they chasm
captive as the questions one must surmise
and I, for your deliverance the ransom
"never leave me, my love, my friend"
spoken feebly as a prayer of little faith
In angst your heart once more bereaved
for true love remains impossible to erase
Traveling the road of never-knowns
your world abhorring to let go
granting time - that your soul not die
reflecting back an impatience you see in mine
There bewitched I stand in awe
nay, bend my knees at the epiphany of thy need
Persuaded to ignore once more the flaws
like every detailed dimension of a dream
Dare I surrender my disbelief, and wholly succumb your divination
hold tightly to your second sight
your prophetic inclinations?
for already by your augury - given you my life
Why hold back unwavering faith
as if now it's loss could be greater?
Perhaps my fate is better weighed
if our odds remain in your favor
My luck in love a chain-mail buffoonery
made of broken links and sparse longevity
Like a devil mocks hypocrisies charity
he so crushed my heart with stealth dexterity
So let it be said... you need me more
and that your love surpasses
For the art of love wears a mask of war
camouflaged in the art of stanzas
Whatever the spell enchantment cast
It began with one look in your eyes
has withstood the storms of assurances dashed
and neared forever with another guy
You were my present, then past, full circle and back
voodoo allure, a loves black magic
Bedeviled I say, held by your craft
your sorcerer's smile is a cold damp draft.
Categories:
chain mail, for him, love, magic,
Form:
Quatrain
The dawn purloined by a shadowed thief,
in the kitchen morning blues were stealing,
across the sprawl of formica grief
with hot buttered daybreak unappealing.
Perforations flooded to slake the thirst,
and down on thermoplastic, kneeling,
a hot Hail Mary brewed and burst
and spiderweb cracked the ceiling.
The chain mail pot spilled a stain of toffee
and dreams died once more with feeling,
rats in the walls tapped a preference for coffee
with the legend: “Move over, Darjeeling.”
Categories:
chain mail, allegory, parody, time,
Form:
Verse
Put away your sword Sir
and step into the light.
Only words hold sway here.
Not that way,
There is nothing that can save you there,
All the words there have been poisoned.
There are words there in the dark that can make cuts that never heal
And words that will cut through even your bone.
Words that can deflect your best sword thrust.
Don't look down,
Those word will only make your blood boil
And don't touch those rocks
They contain words enough to crush your heart.
Best not to enter that pool,
Words are waiting there to destroy your soul.
Take off your chain mail,
If words of wisdom and light cannot penetrate,
You may yet still slip from my grasp.
There is no shelter in that cave,
Only words to confuse,
Words to haunt
Words that only spawn black thoughts
And worst of all are the words that eat into your hopes
Til you give them all up
Or words that can turn your dreams into nightmares.
There are words there that can blindside you,
Or bend your will til it loses power.
Best stay out of there if you don't want a hole where your heart used to be.
Good, you have left your sword behind you,
I knew you were listening.
Now I can show you how to master words more powerful than your sword,
All my lessons begin and end with Love.
Categories:
chain mail, appreciation, dark, destiny, education,
Form:
Free verse
Rushing away from the Devils hair hoisting heave
Rushing to Gods downy laced embrace, searching as astray and bereaved.
Rushing away from your most tenebrous night-frights.
Rushing to your chain mail-cloaked knight.
Rushing away from the skies troubling tears.
Rushing to the sun-singed grassy spears.
Rushing away from the contemporary world atrocities.
Rushing to the falsely glazed generosities.
Rushing away no longer
Only rushing to authorities, tongue untied, and hands unclasped from behind my allegorically lashed back.
Rushing away, wiped from my options, forced to breathlessly quarrel and yack.
Categories:
chain mail, world,
Form:
Couplet
Far far away there's a place of great beauty;
The place has many wonders:
Like the big and huge dragons,
Or the ferocious warriors, battling;
Clad in chain mail,
Or the magnificent warships, ready for a voyage,
Setting their sails.
There is no barren land;
No space for desert sand,
But many a field,
Wonderful crops which yield.
The forests are full of life and green
Where not a sight goes unseen,
There is the cure for every disease
And all the people can live at ease.
It is a place where dreams come true,
And the problems there are little too.
Such a wondrous land does exist,
A place where your worries will be least;
Where everything is possible, it seems,
The beautiful land of beautiful dreams!
Categories:
chain mail, dream, fantasy,
Form:
Verse
I once lived in high Montana
and I knew a man who live there,
went by the name Rodrigo,
known to most for his wild hair.
But Roddy didn’t grow it long
to try and impress some girl,
Roddy was a history nut,
obsessed with the medieval world.
He had all sorts of goblets,
tankards, and great drinking horns,
he must’ve owned a dozen swords,
but was always buying more.
Roddy owned full chain-mail armor,
wore it to the renaissance fair,
and he paid no heed to the folks
who would shake their heads and stare.
But Roddy’s greatest possession
was one he built with his own hands,
Roddy had a full-sized catapult
and would launch stuff across his land.
One day I went to see my friend
and he was launching things out back.
He said,”Get me that watermelon,
and we’ll launch our next ‘attack.’”
We loaded up the giant fruit,
and laughed as it took to flight,
said he,”If launching fruit be wrong
then to hell with being right!”
Next we took a bunch of apples
to achieve a shot-gun effect.
I cracked a joke and Roddy laughed,
so hard we didn’t see what came next.
A black bear in the woods nearby
saw the apples in their pile,
and wouldn’t find a meal that good
if he wandered a dozen miles.
He ran out onto the scoop
while we were both still laughing,
Roddy pulled the lever, unaware,
and he sent the bear a-flying!
The bruin’s moan caught us both
as apple and bear too to sky,
across the field to lodgepole trees
did the beast and his lunch fly.
He disappeared in the branches,
vanishing from our line of sight,
I stood stunned, said to Roddy,
“Should we go see if it’s allright?”
Roddy shrugged and started walking,
we both made our way over there,
high up in an old lodgepole pine
sprawled a frightened, confused bear.
The branches had broken the fall,
saved the beast from being dead,
I said to Roddy,”We should go
before that bear can clear its head.”
Roddy took a picture on his phone
to prove what had happened that day,
then we beat a hasty retreat
before the bear could come our way.
To this day Roddy still recounts,
in his booth at renaissance fairs,
how catapults can launch anything,
even hungry and wayward bears.
Categories:
chain mail, adventure, fun, humor, light,
Form:
Narrative
1/10/21
Feels great to hear another Golden Oldie
People quick to say okey dokey
Often doing the hokey pokey
Rollie Pollie
Holy Moley
Working toward a Gold Rollie
Stacking up the guacamole
And the blue cheese on the low-key
There was betrayal
And dismayal
Folks quick to label
Always being hateful
It' s shameful
And rather disgraceful
Still was able
To sink the nail
On a small or bigger scale
I failed
And I prevailed
Didn't always bring it to the table
Was just far too painful
I was ready for it, knowing it could be stable
Or an outcome that is fatal
I sipped a lot of ale
Nearby there was a pail
If I ever needed to bail
There was no trace or crumbs and a trail
Left out, it quickly went stale
Setting sail
Still seeking the Holy Grail
With a suit of Chain Mail
Occasionally on a Clydesdale
Paying no mind to these "Jezebels"
It's the truth not a biblical tale
People fast to say "Go to hell"
Still acting like "Cain and Abel"
Steered clear or hooked and impaled
Never partook or continually inhaled
Stayed away, or overdid it and then moved like a snail
Another gale
And bout of hale
There's no time to flail
Or be frail
I don't need to wail
Trying to pay attentions to the details
Sometimes I see quail
And eat Kale
Categories:
chain mail, dark, deep, life, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
Across the great divide,moon shadows scream and cry. Old nightmares haunt your sleep,nowhere to run and hide. The radio sings loud,as music crawls through dreams. Four headless horsemen mount,and ride through bloody streams. Return to olden days,when justice was your honor. Battles fought with sword and shield,life harsh and yet so noble. Knights of old reborn,with chain mail hanging down. Swords shine throughout the dark,as lightning flashes down. Ride into your past,and cut the nightmares down. Scream out your battle cry,and be forbidding in appearance. Now stand your ground forever,don't let your fellow man down. Fight for what is truth,ride out and slay the dragons.
Categories:
chain mail, life, old, old,
Form:
Prose Poetry
The quiet library rented my mind for a season in an hour time is a hand no one ever sees I
think this is an end bend the spoon lick the blade it’s all for sale silence is chain-mail
reason hits like a kiss of claws scratching for salvation the key of A drove a composer
mad drawing of a withered woman lost in a face
Categories:
chain mail, spiritual, visionary,
Form:
Free verse