Best Guinevere Poems

I hear girlish laughter beyond the bagged onions.
Imagine her swimming naked among green ripples.
Her white arms are lily stems, hips as sleek as an otter
flow in a neon moonlight.
A sound system promotes discount cookies.
Visions of idealized females fill the dairy product section.
A courtly love of...

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Lady Guinevere decided to follow her passion
By finding employment as a hired assassin.
  She practiced technique
  On her cousin Monique,
But found the guillotine to be out of fashion....

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I hear girlish laughter beyond the bagged onions.
Imagine her swimming naked among green ripples.
Her white arms are lily stems, hips as sleek as an otter
flow in a neon moonlight.

A sound system promotes discount cookies.
Visions of idealized females fill the dairy product section.
A courtly love of...

Continue reading...

Whence, the Bitter Chill of December cometh
shall not the glowing embers, of thine heart
crackle within the depths of thy soul
for but the withered flower upon the mantle grows

Thine eyes glisten as does crystal in a Chandelier
whence, the subdued rays fall upon it from yonder fire
radiant...

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Eyelids gently drooping, 
drowsing on the porch swing, 
eighty-three years old and feeling grand, 
reveries of cherished times 
when he was a lad in Merry England. 

In his hands the uniform 
that he wore in childhood, 
when he was a knight upon his steed, 
a...

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Eyelids gently drooping,                           
drowsing on the porch swing,
eighty-three years old and feeling grand,
reveries of cherished times 
when he was...

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Eyelids gently drooping,                           
drowsing on the porch swing,
eighty-three years old and feeling grand,
reveries of cherished times 
when he was...

Continue reading...

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 perspiration running between my breasts? 
Is it lying on a...

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it's not enough Guinevere,
or should i call you Morgana?
unless you, too, see me
like a novelty act, with your shiny wizard.



you're always against everything anyway.
the cliched apples,
the nudes i draw,
the fig leaves your nerves cover them up with.



but you don't cover everything.
only you pretend you have...

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I long to meet a Guinevere
So many poems I'd pen
Like Guinevere by the Azure Mere
Or simply, My Sweet Gwen

I taste the sound of Guinevere
Tis salt upon my lips
Perhaps she'd be my Gwenhwyfar
Sweet wine of Arthur's sips

Smooth and fair my Guinevere
Of her so many songs be...

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Eyelids gently drooping, 
drowsing on the porch swing,
eighty-three years old and feeling grand,
reveries of cherished times 
when he was a lad in Merry England.

In his hands the uniform
that he wore in childhood,
when he was a knight upon his steed,
a champion in his armour,
boldly defending damsels...

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In this hell you hold the hand of our Lord.
Deep inside my heart troubles towards doom,
If I could cast it upon my own sword
And if I could request for just one boon.

Fear to accept what my heart proclaims true?
With no reasoning and poisoned with lies
My...

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Misted, as some enchantress
A mythic age haunts
This Autumn's country; this day's.
Morn, noon. And beyond.
All the dazed while, what desires
Marvelled at, to be
Do get that sense of. And how!
Speak; I wont respond!...

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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 the king would regret it,
As the weasel dispatched him with a...

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Eyelids gently drooping,                           
drowsing on the porch swing,
eighty-three years old and feeling grand,
reveries of cherished times 
when he was...

Continue reading...