Best Flagon Poems
She danced with grace, as a swan
He was inflamed, a roaring dragon
She swayed, a willow upon the lawn
He sipped warm wine from his flagon
With parted lips and feline eyes
She drew the breath from him
Her motions slowed, he started to rise
when he saw tanned legs, so trim.
One hand told him, Not yet and stop.
She removed a flower from her hair,
a chrysanthemum of Autumn's crop.
She offered it to him with much flair.
He stood majestic as a pine in Spring
The moon peeked over his shoulder
It was then the swan began to sing
With words of love, she grew bolder.
Her voice, snowflake soft on Winter's day
stilled the dragon but not his breath of fire.
His heat sweltered, hot as sun's Summer ray.
She burned his soul with passionate desire.
When her swan's call reached it's last trill
His hands reached out to draw her near.
Candles flickered on each cliff's rock sill
as he bent and whispered in her ear.
Tonight you danced and sang just for me,
My swan, you are my prize, my treasure.
You captured your dragon, felled as a tree.
Now I shall lavish you with love's pleasure.
She woke from the sound of his fierce roar.
On his pillow was a scorch burned black.
Her feathers ruffled, she watched him soar
Content with knowing tonight he'd be back.
Two ladies named Jan and named Lin
professed a forgivable sin
they cornered a dragon
wrung her in a flagon
and gave her away as cheap gin
The old dragon's name was Jooling
who had a habit of drooling
she couldn't stay dry
on ground or in sky
around her urine kept pooling
The ladies had had quite enough
The dragon smelled like bad stuff
so after they did drain her
to cement they did chain her
and threw her sad stench off a bluff
Into the ocean dragon fell
on hitting water she did melt
The girls were relieved
at what they'd achieved
and glad to be rid of the smell
They went on to gain great success
without all that putrefied mess
their poetry was renowned
no matter where it was found
The dragon's now fish food they guess
How firmly they stand,
the spires of history
that no one can destroy.
What a curious melange
of hate and love
and yesterday's antipathy.
Indifferent they are,
leaving us their basic legacy--
shining, mocking; it is their heritage,
and the winds of change have no effect
upon a single word.
Within their shadow is enshrined,
the totality of every lie
and every truth we ever knew.
Tread softly in their midst--
It is rarified companionship they offer.
Dare we even to essay to smooth the path
historic footsteps made,
or cleared the way for ours?
There is no answer from the silent skies.
It is the empty flagon of serenity,
the hopeless void that stretches out forever,
calling forth the meditator to his bench,
and time to its eternal rest.
~
“How long has he been here?” said the other voice which Dumpty could see now that the dawn light started to grow, belonged to a largish Owl perched on a tree branch, near the sleeping cat. “Oh, I dragged him in just the other day” replied Dumpty, “the poor thing he was holding onto that large green flagon over there, could hardly get a word out of him he just nodded most times, and he has a glazed look in his eyes, I would say he has been deeply traumatized.” “How is he normally?” “‘Oh he is a most cheerful soul, full of energy, helpful to others and so
on; and he can be quite brave, I can remember when the clog-dancing Dutch mouse, fell down the stair.. she had to have bed rest for 2 weeks, well he volunteered to look after her kids and he did! As it so happens Siegfried and Roy were touring, well one of their panthers got into the backyard of the mouse family’s home and he was there pegging out some washing you know one of those young mice came down the back steps and the panther headed toward it... well this guy here he sorta made every hair on his body stand out stiff he looked over twice his size, and then quick as a wink he jumped on that bad ole panther, he jumped on his head and got his claws up its nose, he hung on like glue while I flew off to raise the alarm, poor old puss here took some punishment but he saved that young mouse alright, and that old panther looked really the worse for wear when he was recaptured” well I can see he does not like bullies observed Dumpty with a note of admiration in his voice, I do so hope he gets well I
would like to get to know him..!
©JOE MAVERICK 1-3-2014
Now that the Owl was sleeping Dumpty felt a bit restless, which was hardly surprising considering he was a ghost, he wandered over again to the waters edge, and had a look at the large flagon that the cat had clung onto...it was really big' with a couple of handles
near the neck, he peered close at it, there was a piece of paper inside, he wondered what it might say, he went in and unrolled it, it seemed to be all about someone 'escaping from it all' it was signed Joe Maverick..Bermuda ‘hmmm now where had I heard the name before?’ he thought ‘Oh never matter..' it was not going to help his quest in the slightest it seemed. “I shall go
and look through mails and comments maybe there have been attempts to kill off other nursery rhyme or story book characters? One thing is sure, I shall never give up till I get revenge” he
thought to himself, some it seemed out there wanted bad things too happen as it were, well it looked like they were going to get their wish, by the time he was finished they would be getting egg all over their face so to speak (bad egg)....!
©JOE MAVERICK 1-3-2014
Aethiopia is a land of exquisite beauty,
Inhabited by a princess worthy of its charms.
And the king her father thought it his duty
To boast of her glamour in spite of envious alarms.
So the lovely Andromeda sitting on the shore,
Her long hair waving seaward in the salty breeze,
Has been chained to rock by vengeance heretofore.
But the brave Perseus arrives and her he frees,
After slaying the sea monster with a vicious gore.
Now Andromeda is the goddess of all my dreams,
Who reigns supreme in the celestial sphere.
Her beauty is yet unique in the heavenly schemes,
And can cause clouds and tempest to disappear.
If I for a moment neglect to confess her glamour,
Savage beast would roar her praise from lust.
The most ardent lover she forces to stammer,
Her charms makes their tongues unable to adjust,
For it is that womanly way she has with men to enamour.
The forests, streams and all of nature are her gift,
Since every creature with a heart she delights.
O God make me her Perseus and please be swift,
For she is my only dream on starry nights.
My brand is honed sharp to slay the dragon,
And the keys to her chains lay buried in my sack.
We will fly away on a Pegasus drawn wagon,
And sail the celestial ocean in a star guided yacht.
To toast life eternal, may I lift this star-studded flagon?
Ye guys/gals, drama requiring attention spins in Legerdemain.
There dwells within the caves of Underhill,
a legendary leprechaun lass named Phyll.
She keeps a pet dragon with wings of three;
she’s named her Levi for Leviathan.
Levi often flies to the Yggdrasil tree,
mythical place where legends can be spun.
Ye guys/gals, dialog reveals awesome secrets in Legerdemain.
"Haven't seen you in awhile, have some kvass?
"Phyll, I managed a meeting with the brass -
Queen Ledger from the domain of dragons.
By spring I'll bring home her son as my groom."
At these words, Phyll lifted her flagon,
to share toasts with Levi and lift her own gloom.
Ye guys/gals, dreams really are special in Legerdemain.
Winter has passed, neath the cucumber tree
Wonder! Phyll has found her own groom-to-be,
a fully attractive, leprechaun guy.
To the legendary lair sans delay
"dragons and leprechauns, we gotta fly
time to see the queen, it’s spring wedding day."
Ye guys/gals, discourse returns after summer in Legerdemain.
written May 14, 2017
Grog
Gulping down a flagon
Gives one a gibbous glow.
Gather 'round ye hardies,
Grab one and have a go.
Ghostly foam and farting
Gnomes bilge one gushing flow.
Garish gaffe...drinking Grog!
deborah burch©12/4/2016
_______________________________
Form: Pleiades
I adore this corn which you call maize,
In my hand its cob I hold my eyes dilated in paraphrase,
In my mouth its offsprings I chew,
My teeth gliding through a well arranged maze,
Fresh corn harbours that distinct taste,
My people brew it into beer and your brain is laced,
Folks in the west indies worship it as a deity of no replace,
So wonderful with rice that its last grain do I trace,
Corn beer drank from a human skull did my ancestors need, to embark on a
battle race,
Grandmum loves it so much with peas that she dishes it out to us as her ace,
I have drank ginger ale but when presented with corn ale I took it on as a study
case,
Its flour has sometimes kept me on for days,
If you have drank custard you will hear what the corn says,
On the west African slave ships corn was men's source of strength and grace,
Eating cornbread is so enjoyable adding beauty to its pace,
Oh! I must have over drunk from this flagon of corn-ale behold the gaze on my
face.
Guinness Interruptus
The sweet lass he was chasing was Finnish
but like Popeye he needed his spinach
to build up his strength
in longing and length
so he stopped for a flagon of Guinness
3/14/2017
submitted to – Luck of the Irish Limerick Contest
This year I asked Santa for a Harley
and a flagon of wine made of barley.
Then I asked God alone
for an angel of my own,
only not one of His, one of Charlie’s!
`~~~
The hot girl next door at her window stands
and through it I gaze her soft buxom glands.
When the moment I seize
it’s at times such as these
I’m so glad I’m not Edward Scissorhands!
~~~
My ma said something I couldn’t ignore
at dinner time and my jaw hit the floor.
Okay, but I think you’ll find
any more and I’ll go blind,
“No, I said you need to masticate more!”
Written: January 2018
On the first day of a year long ago
We walked the path to the glazing wood
Peter, Michael, Seamus and me
We cut hazel wands to swing
Severing the tops from offending fern and brier
Some spark of our ancestry
Made us hunter gatherers
As the dogs rose and caught startled rabbits
Proudly home, ‘Mam, here is the dinner’
The rest sold to old Mrs Power
Six pence each we were rich
Every three rabbits bought five cigarettes
And a flagon of cheap cider
In a fern hid den we sat on damp ground
Sucking sweet apple from brown bottles
Cupping acrid smoking sticks in children’s hands
For a while we were men, our fathers
That was a day far off in my youth
Before life filled my pockets with stones
I was young then
I adore this corn which you call maize,
In my hand its cob I hold my eyes dilated in paraphrase,
In my mouth its offsprings I chew,
My teeth gliding through a well arranged maze,
Fresh corn harbours that distinct taste,
My people brew it into beer and your brain is laced,
Folks in the west indies worship it as a deity of no replace,
So wonderful with rice that the last grain do I trace,
Corn beer drank from a human skull did my ancestors need to embark on a
battle race,
Grandmum loves it so much with peas that she dishes it out to us as her ace,
I have drank ginger ale but when presented with corn ale I took it on as a study
case,
Its flour has sometimes kept me on for days,
If you have drank custard you will hear what the corn says,
On the west African slave ships corn was men's source of strength and grace,
Eating cornbread is so enjoyable adding beauty to its pace,
Oh! I must have over drunk from this flagon of corn-ale behold the gaze on my
face.
I.
Religion and his spiteful visions,
Race and her unholy irrations,
Madness the first lady of Death the Destroyer,
Sadness the Arch-enemy of Peace and Bliss,
Oh! His breathe just ceased,
To whom,To what shall we plead,
On what mountains shall Volcanoes feast,
To what unholy Earthquakes shall men not shake and kneel with skeletal frames
that creak,
I have written for Kings and Monks,
Yes through My writings Paupers have become Princes,
The Affected the Most effective,
I have written for Salient minds,
This long have I beaten the Gongs of the gods to awake your passion for Nature,
Yes, Yes I have beaten this Drums so soft to herald the coming of a generation
that will enjoy true bliss between Beast and Man,
Aliens as my info tech clerk, Oh what jerks,
II.
The alchemy of Time and Fate,
It hovers around You your blessings of days agone, Just have faith,
Stretching to catch the Salient spirits of creativity the sage blows off his turbo
nerves,like you thus fainty,
I have seen Men drink stale wine off Pigskins called"The Happy Flagon",
Amalgamation of Love and Truth has held me this Strong,
Naked am I, immersing financial wealth into this pool of Humility,
Do try when walking with my father not to look directly at his eyes,but following
every pace,
Oh! The signs of time, Seeing my children whose bones are really filled with oil,
My spine's creak,cry and wail from this much spankings and your grandmum's
severe waist rolls,
Only whales know the true disciplines of Gentlemanness,
Clumsy Spades,Hungry gents...Oh! Satisfying my willing maids.
I wielded my sword
And slayed the foul dragon,
Then crammed the vile beast
Right back in his flagon.
Pickled and sodden
There will he lie
Few to remember
Fewer to cry.
Obnoxious his deeds,
Destructive his breath,
His venom pervasive,
So glad for his death.
Now we can harness
Our thoughts and our prayers,
Be kind and productive
Not just dragon slayers.
This noble island
This hallowed soil,
So very much more
Than one man’s spoil.
Let the healing commence,
Work as one to achieve,
A country in which
We all so believe.
A land of invention,
Of Shakespeare and Keats,
Of boundless endeavor,
Whose heart strongly beats.