Best Jousting Poems
The plain song moves
Drifting on the wind
Flags riffle
At its passing
A nervous horse
Prances and kicks
Death pauses
Wipes his plate
For rich feeding
Combat approaches
I heard a clash, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ fleeing the wood.
The moon hid in a cloud.
¦¦¦¦ in shadow I stood.
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ thought I,
Holding my breath.
‘Men must be cruel and proud,
‘Jousting for death’.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ glimmering shone
The moon; ¦¦¦ the wind blew colder.
A man ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
Bent to his horse’s shoulder.
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
Darkly I fled.
Owls ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ were shrill,
And the moon sank red.
(Blackout of Middle-Ages by Siegfried Sassoon)
Medieval times
A time of splendour
With gallant Knights
Ladies so slender
Jousting tournaments
The ladies all squeal
Exploding of hoofs
The clash of steel
Enter the Black Knight
To a round of jeers
The Red Knight enters
To resounding cheers
First pass no foul
They try it once more
The Knight in Red
Slumps to the floor
They carry him off
And tend to his wounds
A Blue Knight appears
The ladies all swoon
The maidens favourite
Known far and wide
Lord Richard of Leeds
His lance by his side
They ready for battle
Shields are in place
Masks of armour
Covering their face
Towards each other
They gallop full speed
Lances held high
The snorting of steeds
The Black Knight falls
The hero wins out
Blue Knight celebrates
Victory in the joust
Approaching the King
Horse and rider bow
The people go wild
Allegiance they vow
Medieval times
Hail to the King
Jousting tournaments
What glory they bring
© Jack Ellison 2014
I dreamt a great knight was jousting for me
His lance tossed the opponent from his steed
In great joy I reveled
But soon felt dissheveled
When mask was lifted, Nancy Pelosi!
*Political Nightmare for John's Contest
With his arms on knees steadies his lance
Searching for breath gives him a glance
How scenic is phrenetic fantasy
While fulminating in the manic mind?
It's hidden in synaptic revelry,
Articulated, yes, but hard to find.
The minor absolution one demands
From higher born authority than self
Is often held by strangers in strange lands
Or brazen, raisin boxes on the shelf.
The madness of the mad though sad is not
Without a nod transcendent, in a way;
Which forces Joyce to ponder over plot
And not which punctuation to display.
Now take your time and read Ulysses first,
Before the Wake of Finnegan is shown;
For Finnegan becomes eternal thirst
Where cognitive resolve remains unknown.
Now bitter battles still are fought with fire
In hallowed halls of higher learning fame
Where academic's fight with fierce desire
To elevate James Joyce's brilliant name.
Finnegan's Wake can make a man go mad;
Incomprehensible at best some say.
Such genius has a way of causing sad
Reverberations all along the way.
So read a Portrait of the Artist first
Then add Ulysses if you have the time.
But Finnegan's Wake? Unquenchable thirst!
A book to blow your brain and bind your mind.
Two jousting robots
In their purple helms
Red and blue carpets
Cling to the kings they serve
And serve themselves indeed
Two jousting robots
Fly forth with self poisoned thrusts and
On noble burros they ride
Side stepping the sharp jabs
Half heartedly fought
Shame and glory shared
With sly elephantine smiles
Battles fought for themselves
Royalty drowned in their own coffers
the public starving for blood
and the dried crumbs dropped
by these feigning knights
------------------------
I often view politicians in this light. They care not for the people they serve and we often only distinguish between them by their sigil.
Side note: why isn't politics or government a category on here? do we truly have nothing to say about it?
The little servant upon the motley colored stead riding the ironic militant donkey
Lowering the wit a marotte lance raising the shield a stone of scone doughnut
Life without Jesus at the picadilly circus devastating Hell
Penning the tale upon the Joker Henry the eighth I am not
The gig from minstrels to jesters something cultural feasters Paying tribute to an evasion loss of self expression gilded by the paid troubadours
Licensed fools itching the aristocratic ears per king
Scraping skat man enters byways to plead loose the blue collar chains
Buskers beware disclaimer the governor shaking the monkey stick
A bag of wind blows across the country side if your not mad as the hatter
Because you separated from the double think I think Jesus is the only way
Evangels preaching the messiah's return as he wills hallelujah No fear of lashes because the king and minions ego’s needed to let go
For refusing to skim truth for the end is near pop a good bottler's grip
Spongers would you where like me except for these jingle bells
Pitch within and without the truth is free looking out of place like a football bat
Walking naked without fig leaves gathering to the end washed in blood of the lamb
As seen on TV blue wigs graced with John three sixteen so is God’s love to them that parish
If you are going to attempt a waltz in a spotty teapot costume complete with a lid then do remember not to partake in tea drinking beforehand because the liquid might ruin the material and thus render the authenticity of the costume. People then would not quite believe that the waltz was going to be preformed by a tea pot for the fabric would be unsuitable to maintain an act. Acts admirably administer admirable and administrative actions. And a duty bound club of a chosen cup formation is now passing down the streets of the towns to clink and wave their handles at passers-by. And passers-by are neither Portarlington polestars pulsating, pink pine poles picking pogos. And neither are they decagonal in diameter. Disc like then. Good. Spin spin spin. Great. An electrical elephant prancing in a printed gown with a pointy hat. A peanut is very very inebriated and fell off a cushion. Left angled mirror equals four wheels driving to a dunk. Xxxxx authentication z z znz at thirty six hollering hula hooping hummus humps to twenty one beef cutlets in tight trousers. Z
Medieval times
A time of splendour
With gallant Knights
Ladies so slender
Jousting tournaments
The ladies all squeal
Exploding of hoofs
The clash of steel
Enter the Black Knight
To a round of jeers
The Red Knight enters
To resounding cheers
First pass no foul
They try it once more
The Knight in Red
Slumps to the floor
They carry him off
And tend to his wounds
A Blue Knight appears
The ladies all swoon
The maidens favourite
Known far and wide
Lord Richard of Leeds
His lance by his side
They ready for battle
Shields are in place
Masks of armour
Covering their face
Towards each other
They gallop full speed
Lances held high
The snorting of steeds
The Black Knight falls
The hero wins out
Blue Knight celebrates
Victory in the joust
Approaching the King
Horse and rider bow
The people go wild
Allegiance they vow
Medieval times
Hail to the King
Jousting tournaments
What glory they bring
horses, lances, arrows, fire
they reenact the war of the roses
the outdoor setting
has been erected next to Costa
outside on the ground
napkins, zarfs and stirrers
and half the audience gets their
medieval caffeine hit
that encourages us to yell and whoo-hoo
and pay attention to history
they encourage us to cheer and boo
and after all these years
with a cappuccino in my hand
i bellow 'long live the king'
and it's socially okay
Medieval times
A time of splendor
With gallant Knights
Ladies so slender
Jousting tournaments
The ladies all squeal
Exploding of hoofs
The clash of steel
Enter the Black Knight
To a round of jeers
The White Knight enters
To resounding cheers
First pass no foul
They try it once more
The Knight in White
Slumps to the floor
They carry him off
And tend to his wounds
A Blue Knight appears
The ladies all swoon
The maidens favorite
Known far and wide
Lord Richard of Leeds
His lance by his side
They ready for battle
Shields are in place
Masks of armor
Covering their face
Towards each other
They gallop full speed
Lances held high
The snorting of steeds
The Black Knight falls
The hero wins out
Blue Knight celebrates
Victory in the joust
Approaching the King
Horse and rider bow
The people go wild
Allegiance they vow
Medieval times
Hail to the King
Jousting tournaments
What glory they bring
A macabre dance
with whatever
the subconscious
drags into my dreams
scuttling my already
fitful sleep.
You really haven’t lived life fully
Until you’ve raced down a mountain
In the rain
On a muddy, slippery trail
In a Bobcat side-by-side utility vehicle
With a twenty foot long section of twelve inch culvert
Teetering precariously on the vehicle
Trying to hold it under one arm
While attempting to steer with the other
So as to keep the Man
With the quarter million dollar excavator
From sitting around
Waiting on you
At an hourly rate
Higher than you ever dreamed of making.
mounted warrior
lance ahead
Charge ! {LOL}
Entry for
Deborah Simpson's
Medieval's Contest
Just Gotta Love
A Guy On Horseback