Best Knaves Poems
Sea of Love
The ebb and flow that comes and goes
with ocean’s deep emotion shows
that hearts, like knaves, become her slaves
beneath the undulating waves.
Excitement grows as hearts expose
amid the tempting tide’s repose;
surf’s breaking roar laps on their shore;
hearts enter through her luring door.
The ocean knows, as passion grows,
the secrets that they don’t disclose;
these hearts on fire with wild desire,
waves pounding as their needs require.
The ebb and flow still comes and goes
while sea of love, these hearts, depose,
and lust’s decree will always be
a product of this stormy sea.
November 7, 2019
Categories:
knaves, love, lust, metaphor, ocean,
Form:
Rhyme
The Gift of Eros
Aloft flies Eros; mischief fluttered wings
With silent rustle whisper overhead
By arrows pierced; the hearts of knaves and kings
The chilly grave, the restless lover’s bed
Blue London air, red Piccadilly light
Above the shifting crowd and constant noise
In summer heat, in neon and the night
He aims his slender bow with perfect poise
Aloft flies Eros; underneath his feet
As shadows of the Circus slowly shift
I contemplate my own love, bitter, sweet
The wound that Eros wrought in me, the gift
And as I turn my tears up to the sky
A pigeon drops an arrow in my eye
by Gail
Categories:
knaves, bird, heart, humor, irony,
Form:
Sonnet
"Puzzle Stomped"
Pieces scattered
placed on a table
with boundaries
between
the incarcerated margins
there are strict conditions
Time drips
its wet connection
each piece a stair fitted
imperfectly
perfect
towards upwards
new mirror reflection
a cracked heart piercing
the tear with savage dedication
behind her veil
the known Morpheus assails
her compromised senses
holding her captured
behind the external view
eyes blindfolded
the blue sashes now let loose
opening green windows to
free the redressed vicissitudes
to undress the crisp breeze of her
monk chanting wake
a new phantom arrives caressing secrets
gambled on a fresh Delius
composing his unfinished symphony
he’s looking for her singular notes
Somewhere,
he stands behind her
sharp as a needle,
cutting tall poppy
each step she takes
towards her freedom gate
In his hands he cups
the hidden
missing piece
The sewing of pages
she continues to bind
in her sleep
along a strong spine
turning and folding stories
uncommon ne'er sublime
their spelt magic
grows majestically spoilt
seeded from a sweet perfume
conducting intoxicating notes
stories flying black-winged
off all the slippery knaves
and wax-sealed pages
like ebony feathers
mummerating starlings
turn into suffocating
dream stealing
king crows smiling maces
She the Smythsewer
laying tenuous imprints
for a new road home
He the myth Beyond
shakes the game board
peace in pieces, a long forgotten song
the chance card thrown
the blanket of romance
thundering over a stormy mind grows
patch worked with glassed-in
jarred ghost bees, the old
puzzle of a story stomped on
He places his feet
firmly between hers
closing in on time
Beyond takes her hand
And sensually whispers
along all her fairest fears
sweeping all pieces off her
tattered story board
fallen irretrievable
forgotten
left lacking
on the harsh floor
Cum dederit
dilectis suis somnum,
Ecce haereditas
to the tune of fate
there is so much more
the words are sewn and sung
the child in time fled
long gone, as if all was pure fantasy
destiny arrives supernaturally too soon
Time for a new story
He says darkly
and swiftly closes
Past’s door.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
Categories:
knaves, dream, fate, romance,
Form:
Romanticism
Go ahead, try to separate the races.
You politicians have egg, on your malicious faces.
Not realizing in your frozen hearts.
You toss imperfect, very hopeless darts.
Neither money nor educatiion
Can separate friends of the American nation.
Equity for Blacks only, you shout from your parapets.
ThatWill never separate us, not one bit.
So you fund hate groups to form derision,
Amongst hearts who have made, no such decision.
You paint whites as Nazis, blacks as slaves?
You think we are animals or morons, you hopeless knaves!
We have friends of all colors and religions.
But you go on fake news, as dense as pigeons.
You do all in your power to make this beautiful world dour.
You shout, “The world is ending by the hour?”
Filling us with fear, like climate change,
The ozone layer went up one percent, but not to Al Gore and his gang.
Whites mucking about, pretending they are Black?
It sickens me, Caucasians,it’s a racial attack.
Equity, as if, this were even ever possible.
We of all colors, think you are miserable.
So twenty years ago, I found a Black sister online.
Living in the hood, with loving heart that really shines!
She’s problems with sleep, as bullets fly about all night.
Seven hundred and thirty five, died in that city alone last year, what a fright!
DC bigwigs avoid the Hood like the Plague.
Yet demand Democrats vote for Blacks alone, don’t dare turn the page.
They tell them freedom is food stamps and a free phone?
It is such a lie, it makes me gasp and groan.,
Keeping the Blacks forever, on othe Plantation Nation!
You, while they are killed in the Hood, fly to Davos on vacation.
Dedicated to my Sistah of another mother!
Like you, Blessed Rita , there is no other!
With love,
Sistah Pangie
1/23/2023
Categories:
knaves, love, race, sister,
Form:
Couplet
Do you ever ponder on the purpose of life?
wonder why things turn out the way they do?
ever look back and think I did that wrongly?
then go and make exactly the same mistake?
("If you can dream- and not make dreams your master
If you can think-and not make thoughts your aim
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:")
What is the purpose of us even being on this planet?
Will our actions live on once we are gone from here?
Or like a breeze floating past will we just vanish?
Like the early dawn mists burnt off by the sun?
What will you teach your children about this coil?
Will you guide them well? make them fine citizens?
Leaving them to be your legacy of a life well spent?
They say a butterfly's wings beating changes the weather
All I know is strive to do right and be kind to all
To put others first before I choose a path in life
("Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!")
07/25/2013 written for Homage contest passages taken from If by Kipling
Categories:
knaves, life,
Form:
Free verse
“We will change the earth, and make it clean!
All evil leaders shall not succeed.
Illness, death shall never be seen!”
Doth does man drool in his ignominious dreams.
Thinking...they are gods, as if He is dead?
Fools run the earth with evil intent.
Lies and fat egos, dance in their heads.
Propaganda does small minds bend.
Always busy online and on Social Media,
Lies grow huger, with truth gasping for breath!
Mankind thinks, they are walking encyclopedias?
Bringing society to its own uncivilized death.
Yes! But how do these fools and knaves know it all?
Google, the new Bible and eternal fountain of truth!
Mankind brought on their own early, downfall.
King Soros, now rules this planet all, forsooth.
4-10-2022
Categories:
knaves, future, god, humanity,
Form:
Quatrain
In the breath of summer,
The time was midnight;
With stars in their circuits,
Shining high with their light.
Still brighter the moon,
Midst planets like knaves;
Shines bright in the sky,
Reflecting on waves.
I looked at her smile,
So remote in the sky;
Wearing her shroud,
Above clouds passing by.
And I turned to you,
My dear evening star;
More lovely you be,
Than heaven's lights are.
So shall your light shine,
As I stand and admire,
But your glow's not for me,
With your cold distant fire.
Categories:
knaves, parody
Form:
Rhyme
I sit here always trying to make sense
of the beautiful world that surrounds me.
The sunlight just dazzles, spring leaves are dense
on the trees, in their fluttering seem to be
dancing on the season's arbitrary breezes.
What I don't understand and must question
is the flaw in our makeup that seizes
on each other's frailties, with cold intention
we murder each other in the streets.
In current history a tribe, once slaves
with smothered dreams, violence greets,
from another's fears of lost privilege, like knaves.
We are so sharp of tooth and red of claw
and so at odds with the beauty of Nature's law.
Categories:
knaves, analogy,
Form:
Sonnet
A midnight ship with silver sails
And hoisted flags with scarlet tails
Is whisked by winds of golden gales
Descending from the skies above.
And though the decks are wet and soaken,
Still the hull is swift and oaken
So the course remains unbroken,
Trailing wakes of turtledoves.
With storm departed, then no sooner
Comes, unseen, a pirate schooner
Neath the nighttime, light and lunar,
Pouncing with a push and shove.
Though hope seems lost, a cyclone saves
Dispersing foes and other knaves
With frothy foamy fisted waves
Which strike like leaden leather gloves.
Secured, the ship has safely landed
- Left behind, the pirates stranded -
Passers-by are smiling candid,
Knowing not the worth thereof.
For hidden in the wooden hold
Is treasure bursting unforetold
- Far more than diamonds, thyme and gold -
It brings unbound a brother’s Love.
Categories:
knaves, brother, sister,
Form:
Rhyme
Of
splendid
thrones of
gold
Of
treasures
manifold
Of Sultans
and Shahs
Of Emirs
and Rajahs
Of
jewelled
caskets
or lavish
banquets
Of
sparkling
crowns
and
flowing
gowns
Of kings
and queens
Rulers and
emperors
Of their
subservient
stewards
and
obedient
butlers
Or the
servile
knaves
and
stalwart
squires
Of the
peons and
minions
pages and
pavilions
Of castles
and palaces
of
abounding
gold and
silver
in
ostentatious
regal
splendour
Ah the
fanning
maids in
waiting
Yet to me
one thing
worth
more
noticing
The poet
minstrels
who came
to sing
from afar
for the
queen and
king
For I'd
rather be a
poet for
kings
so to my
tunes
swayed
the
kingdom
than I be
the king
of mere
subjects
and be filled with regal
boredom!
So I could join ranks of
troubadours
and sing for the king
some folklores
For words are the heart of imagination
Inviting to poetic fascination.
(form Troubadour) Ars poetica
Categories:
knaves, poetess, poetry, poets, song,
Form:
Chant Royal
There Once Was A Man ...
There once was a man, oh so brave
Who would sleep in a hole, called a grave ...
Well, him being the host
To so many a ghost,
He arranged a big bash, called a rave
In days of Neanderthal knaves
When the men ruled like kings in their caves ...
and not being too keen
About keeping them clean ...
Often took on some wifes, called them slaves
There once was a man with a stave
Overseeing a holy enclave ...
Well, maintaining a grin
While absolving the sin,
He assessed wicked tales and forgave
There once was a monk with a wave
Who desired a head with a shave ...
Well, the barber was such
That she cut back too much
Thereby leaving his globus concave
There once was a man in the nave,
Although pious he could not behave ...
But they paid him no mind,
’Caus his name was maligned,
Being simply a sinner to save
There once was a man quite depraved
A voluptuous life was thus craved ...
Well, continuous sin
Ended doing him in -
On his tombstone they carved ‘Misbehaved’
Categories:
knaves, funny,
Form:
Limerick
With a ragged bag and a sack, I am leaving you to chase a dream…
Dry your tears, my dear; no more wail. No more songs of grief,
No more tired bones and tired soul. Just dry your tears.
How mother died awhile ago and father stayed, and made us howl
Like ghastly wolf, a creature of the night. The food we scrounged on
The floor, when your tummy cried… my eyes cried.
But dry your tears little one… just dry your tears,
I have words in a bag, a dream in a sack. I have stories and novels
Poems and tears. Remember the sweater I gave you, when even fury dogs
Would freeze? I lied when I said ‘I felt heat, I just ate or I just smiled – you missed it.’
Close your eyes, and do not stare at my back, not tattoos, just
Scars on my back, disfigurements I wear.
But dry your tears little one… just dry your tears.
Hold on! Even when wolves are circling, knaves are preying
And God is loping deaf. There are stars and there are blooms that
Even we shall see. Just dry your tears my little one… just dry your tears.
Categories:
knaves, abuse, death, dream, father
Form:
Epic
THE FAITHFUL SERVANT
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
A grand knight by the title of Sir Reggie Bentley
Had a castle and land a far as the eye can see
Had a beautiful wife known to all as Lady Emily
A page and servant known to all as Henry Lee
Urged other knights come on a crusade with me
Lets go to Jerusalem and set the holy land free
He gathered an army with his impassioned plea
To his wife, I must answer the call of holy duty
I will think of you each day as I cross the sea
My dutiful wife, alas you can not accompany me
You will be safe in the hands of trusted Henry
I will be gone for a while, years two or three
You are truly faithful, but knaves may not be
So wear a chastity belt while waiting for me
Henry most loyal how long have you served me
Sire, I’ve been with you for years, twenty three
You have guarded my house cared for my family
You’ve been most willing when serving my Emily
I have the utmost confidence and trust in thee
If I do not return, please set faithful Emily free
I hereby entrust you with the chastity belt key
The fateful day arrived with the gathered army
Camped outside the moat in columns of three
Early that dawn Sir Bentley kissed sweet Emily
If I do not return Henry Lee will set you free
The legion rode off at the head Sir Bentley
They had ridden apace for hours, two or three
When approached in a huff by trusted Henry Lee
Sire! Sire! you’ve given me the wrong key
Categories:
knaves, humor, humorous, judgement, muse,
Form:
Rhyme
The harbour rests from the rolling waves
Of a windswept and tempestuous sea
Beyond the breakwater lay sailors graves
Where shipwrecks in eternal sleep rest free
Once lured upon the rocks they didn’t see
Now ghosts of sailors take their endless rest
With sirens haunting cries, their bemoaning plea
Heard in the wind and the waves foaming crest
Yachts now moored, as their owners misbehaves
In dim lit cabins with lovers on their knee
Pink gin’s at sunset and acting like knaves
While jealous husbands spy hiding on the quay
And lovers sit on their boats drinking Chablis
Other yachts sit forlorn not looking their best
Their days spent at sea, with the call of the siren’s banshee
Heard in the wind and the waves foaming crest
Fishing boats chug past, their crew now waves
At those waiting for their catch with impish glee
On the quayside, fish, their customers now craves
And the fee for their catch they readily agree
Then having a meal completely buckshee
The fishermen go home for a well-earned rest
No more trawling, hearing sirens or wailing kelpie
Heard in the wind and the waves foaming crest
Life in the harbour for some is all but carefree
Yet for others it may not be so heaven blest
As they sail troubled seas where sirens can be
Heard in the wind and the waves foaming crest
Categories:
knaves, fishing, mythology, ocean, sea,
Form:
Ballade
There is a street in town
Where porridge is drawn up,
Where loafing is a virtue
And spitting is the sport of kings.
Old London town would be so proud
Of all the knaves and fools
Who frolic all day long
Then sleep amid the ruins.
Edgar was the given name
Of one young fool
Who skipped along the padded street
One whistle to his name.
He loved the maiden Joan of Arc
Whose beauty was untrue.
Both expired the self-same day,
No penny to their names.
And me, I get along somehow
Standing on a rock,
While fishing in a muddy hole,
I never watch the clock.
Categories:
knaves, baseball, humor, life,
Form:
Free verse