Best Royal Court Poems
It’s all about me!
It’s all about me
I am the King sitting in the tree
It’s all about me
It’s all about me
I am clapping my hands with such glee
My subjects love me as is my due
The Royal court loves me, yes them too!
King Arthur I am, Ruler of all realms in the land
It’s all about me
It’s all about me
I am the wisest King to ever be!
Hoist ye drinks and sing me praise
The Ale-house is full, its a King Arthur craze!
Its all about me, the Poet King reciting, loud and free
It’s all about me
It’s all about me
Guinevere knows my kiss is for she!
Let's celebrate Lei day today
In pageants with a King and Queen
In flowers of each island's hue
A day in which we extol spring.
A day of Aloha's spirit
Where music's shared in hula dance.
Children wear each island's colors
In long satin gowns that enhance
The royal court displayed in schools
That's honored the Hawaiian way.
Let us not forget the May pole
Of other lands on our Lei day.
Take this garland of sweet flowers
Please wear it 'round your neck with pride.
Let us capture the Aloha spirit
Of love in which we all abide.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Happy May Day and Lei Day to everyone!
Note: On May first...May Day is known in Hawaii as
Lei Day. It is a celebration of Hawaiian culture, or the aloha spirit. People commonly celebrate by giving gifts of leis to one another. Schools also put on plays[2] and elect a Lei Day court of Kings and Queens to represent the different islands.[3] Each island has its own symbol that is composed of a color and a flower. Hawaii (the big island) is red, Maui is pink, Oahu is yellow, Molokai is green, Lanai is orange, Kahoolawe is gray, Kauai is purple, and Niihau is white. In the same order the flowers are lehua, lokelani, 'ilima, kukui, kauna'oa, hinahina, mokihana, and a pupu shell. Niihau is the only island without a plant as its symbol. The link below has more information about Lei Day.
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lei_Day
Maidens, bloody maidens, I had me six of ‘em wenches, ye knowest
Fullsome Catherine of Aragon wrought havoc ‘tween me and the Pope
Besought a divorce, split from the church whilst Anne Boleyn caught mine eye
'Twas beheaded whenst in ‘er capacity to produce a male heir I lost hope
Mine affection waxed for Jane Seymour; I beseeched ‘er t’ marry me
Anne’s body not yet cold in the ground whenst Jane became mine queen
But after giving me a son, Jane withered, twas gone in two weeks
For ‘er I mourned two years, afore proposing to Anne of Cleves
Ye knowest this “Flanders Mare” twas not suited for mine royal court
Nay, ‘er domestic skills tweren’t becoming of a stately king’s wife
At mine auld age of 49, I grew enamored of young Kathryn Howard
She but 19 when I divorced Anne and beseeched ‘er t’ share mine life
But Kathryn had eyes for other blokes, made me look like a pompous joke
"Thou dost not deserve thine title," I declared, had ‘er executed
Twice widowed at the age of 31, Katherine Parr I settled for
This wench cared for me as I grew ill, thus is undisputed
Prithee t’ see after six attempts, I finally met mine match
Katherine inherited mine throne once mine body twas laid t’ rest
From heaven I look back fondly at mine spirited days of yore
Knowing that in a regal sense mine first wife twas truly mine best
* For Lisa Cooper’s “I Want Some Old English Scandal” contest
”The tragic aspect of the situation is that the Tsar is living in an utter fool’s paradise, thinking that He is as strong and all-powerful as before.”
Sergei Witte 1905
“The appearance in [the royal] court of Grigory Rasputin, and the influence he exercised there, mark the beginning of the decay of Russian society and the loss of prestige for the throne and for the person of the Tsar himself.”
Rodzianko, chairman of the Duma
LAMPADNIK (LAMPLIGHTER)
St. Petersburg - Darkness, soon would befall
Nicholas II - Like leaders of his time, misleading God-call
Alexandra - After 4 daughters, birth’d a son to lead
Alexei- Hemophiliac, would make his mother’s heart bleed
Rasputin - Enter the so-called healer, the religious nut
Yusupov - Brought him to the basement, kicked Grigori’s butt
Iced - Poisoned, beat up, shot, definitely drowned
Assassination - Murder of Romanovs, but maybe Anastasia found
Anastasia - Poor little rich Czar’s daughter
Russia - Would the paupers take pity, if they had found her?
2/23/2021
List with a Twist
Sponsor: Charles Messina
*Grigori Rasputin was the lamplighter but he also brought darkness
If Lance Armstrong isn’t King of Cheaters
He’s most certainly on the royal court
No soul to sell, that former world-beater
Poster boy for putting self before sport
The town’s old sheriff, asleep at the wheel
Cheaters get a tiny slap on the hand
Much more than laurels the swindlers do steal:
People’s respect for all sports in the land
Now think of a world record that’s been set
Or a gold medal won, do you figure--
When was the last time you were confident
Physiology hadn’t been jiggered?
I say throw cheaters out for evermore
For how else will people ever believe
That sport’s integrity has been restored
And the whole world is not being deceived?
The human potential, heart, and effort
The only measure, else there is no sport.
3/26/16
Six wives - three Catherines, two Annes and a Jane
were married to Henry in the course of his reign.
An Anne and a Catherine met their end by the axe.
Anne Boleyn was too haughty, Catherine Howard too lax.
Henry's very first wife was Catherine of Aragon,
both pious and faithful, a virtuous paragon.
Producing no sons, she incurred a divorce.
Anne of Cleves followed a similar course.
Her face was spotty; she had bad teeth and bad breath.
Don’t trust a portrait, the wise man saith..
Jane Seymore very sadly died as she gave birth.
Henry's last wife, Catherine Parr, was a woman of worth.
More a nurse than a playmate, she bathed Hal with affection
and did a good job to relieve his dejection.
Envoi
So that's the close of this ditty,
which I think is rather a pity.
No, I'm not the Poet Laureate,
as the Royal Court never saw to it.
If I were paid to do so,
I'd keep writing like Robinson Crusoe.
Fairest of the fair wilst thou be as wife
For thy breathe though lips elixir kisses
Our future can allow me true immortal life
I see mine eyes transfix and I am lesser free
A willing prisoner of a royal court
Unto passion's spells and gazes slavery
As winds of change bow me to mine queen
To feel the fables of inner beauty
The Gods of blessings that they bring
And loss of love becomes, mine only fear
Also time, the marble pillars standing
Still, grandeur when thee do appear
One is to dream of love passed the morrows
Be a man and mind never deviating
Setting straighter than Eros and his arrows
To deep, pierce through the soul to heart
Binding all of us whole altogether
Like the morning shadows to the moonlit darks
This nomad here and once, now a cease to wander
Outward towards scattered raging storms
But, in the eye the treasure is love of lover
And I must call thee mine dearest dearest wife
Surely I canst pay Venus, or then the piper
But, under heaven what cost shall be much higher
But, mine entire heart which I give thee
A chance to hold an angel, I ask from bended knee
And through out the world words echo "Wilst thou marry me"
Naughty little brother hitting people just for fun,
Soppy little sister snuggles up to harassed mum,
While other sister Lesley thinks she’s in a royal court,
And “Ten Ton Tim” throws the tennis balls he’s bought,
One hits little Lesley on the head with quite a force,
She storms off to her room, in a nark again of course,
She slams the door behind her once she’s made her way upstairs,
And then there’s the twins, I know that trouble comes in pairs,
Michael’s riding Richard with his undies on his head,
While Craig from down the road is wearing swimming trunks instead,
“Ten Ton Tim” then offers the other boys a fight,
One which probably won’t finish until very late at night
“You and Craig onto me!”; a tempting offer to the boys,
Who start to rush towards him brandishing their army-toys,
Lesley reappears from the dark behind the door,
Intending not carry on moaning any more,
Dad is quite sensible at stays at work ‘til dark,
I think it’s more crowded here than in Noah’s Ark.
Mother calls for quite but the noise just carries on,
‘Til Craig suggests they go to his and then the rabble’s gone!
(Written at the age of 9 or 10)
Through seventy years of change,
Orb and sceptre in your hands,
Serving your people, young and old,
You have reigned over these lands.
To duty called when you were young,
You took the oath in Edwards chair.
The crown sits well upon that head
That doth its precious weight still bear.
A beacon to your people,
To all your commonwealth,
You show us what devotion means
To something beyond self.
Prime ministers and presidents
Have graced your royal court
Charities from every sphere
Your patronage have sought.
A mother and a grandmother,
A loyal and loving wife.
A Queen with whom the nation
Shared the milestones of your life.
You could not give us any more,
You’re an example to us all.
Of the meaning of self sacrifice
That answer”s duty’s call.
You too have suffered pain and loss,
Part of life’s kaleidoscope.
You empathise, you sympathise,
You bring a nation hope.
You’ve led us in remembrance
At war’s sad and bitter loss,
You’ve shed tears at the cenotaph,
For the fallen and the lost.
You truly are respected
By every generation,
For standing by your people,
For fulfilling your vocation.
Not for ourselves alone are we
Born to this life we’re given
You’ve shown us what can be achieved
If we too are truly driven.
You”re our pride and our identity
Loved and held in great respect.
History will remember you
As our beloved “Lillibet.”
We celebrate these seventy years,
Your Platinum Jubilee.
And I, for one, am glad to be,
A subject of your majesty.
Almost Alice, lived in a grand palace,
with fine servants at beck and sway.
A kingdom at peace that knew no malice,
so throughout the kingdom she’d play.
She frolicked in soft hillsides green,
with streams blue under crystal sky.
A scepter of flowers, played Alice Queen,
commanding bunnies, birds, and butterfly.
Knighting squirrels of highest loyalty,
addressing the fish of the stream.
Head held high as the grandest royalty,
brightest sunlight made her crown gleam.
In her dreams Royal Court she’d convene,
Almost Alice, next in line to be Queen.
Robert Gene Stoner Jr
2/7/16
Emperor
Happy news came from royal imperial agents of his majesty
Printed on provincial paper of the day
The emperor will visit the village within the week
For the golden chrysanthemum event
To bless the cattle and the rice and eat a couple figs
Bad news came back the next day from palace guards
The emperor has other engagements to the north
But promises to return and keep his word
Sadder news came on the following day from imperial officials
The emperor would be going even further north
And hundreds of miles to the west, deep into borderlands
He will return when all wars come to an end
Our humble villagers can only wait
No one has ever seen the emperor to date
Not even his guards or family are sure if he is there
One of the palace guards assured us of the facts
While walking in the royal court
He is sure he saw the Imperial shadow clear as day
It is the emperor’s true shadow for certain
Being held there by the radiant sun
No one ever questioned this event
It would be bad luck
Though the dark spot on the wall evaporated in a fleeting second
Yet deemed official business by the royal court
As something to remember or forget, you have your choice
Villagers learned real soon, worse news, from rumor mongers
Stories started to fly, by those who specialize in lies
Perhaps the Emperor expired, fighting in the hills up north or west
This information disturbed, confused, perplexed
Yet the simple country folk did not care about these matters
The truth for them is this
No one has ever seen the man
Perhaps his shadow knows
But it moved on
Another Emperor will spring up some time
In someone’s mind
Royalty is just another toy
To fill the void
In subjects imagination
I am in awe, of castle intrigue
For I am Abu
Nuwas knows who I am
I am jealous, of this is true
Of the fiddler
For his music makes Caliphs smile
All the royal court dances in song
For he makes the hearts of young men sing
With his fiddle
As he plays musical ballads
To enchant the nobles and surfs
He brings men at arms, to think of enchantment
His music plays for all who hear
Yet his fiddle plays only for the one he loves
He can not have her, and the music knows
And if you read the musical intent
Of a lover whose heart will never be lent
You will see within the waltzes of charm
A man who has lost love and thus disarmed
Yet he plays his fiddle, for he hides the despair
And the Kings and agents of his court applaud
They see not the lost desires of a fiddler dissolve
I’ve always loved the chrysanthemums
Bulbs of yellow, purple, orange, and red,
Filling in blank spaces in the flower bed
Perfect perennials appearing in large sums.
We always called them “mums,” for short
Loved making corsages of the white ones,
Sometimes they remind us of colorful suns
I’m told a favorite flower for a royal court.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written August 27, 2022
Submitted to: "8 Lines of Rhyme - Your Favorite Flower" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
The iris burst forth
Elegant lacey splendor
Crowns of every hue
Short is their spring reign
Long necked queens of the garden
Receiving homage
*Image of Burgmansia Queen Of The Incas.
Sanguinea, Queen Of The Incas
In the lush jungles of constant condensation,
A royal order of an ancient kingdom,
That had ruled from an unknown beginning,
A caste system, whereby, a legacy of femininity,
Ruled over a vast domain, she'd be the Queen,
Known by one name since the start of their governance,
Sanguinea, Queen of all the Inca lands.
Regal and statuesque, donning a regalian dress,
That flowed down the length of her,
Of velvety rubies that drapes in reds.
In her royal court, she is surrounded,
By faces of envious greens that cowers,
Neath the richness of her extensive rule.
She is guarded by an army,
Bearing a powerful tawny armor,
They are a tower of strength that lifts their Queen,
So she can be seen by her doting subjects below.
Sanguinea, Queen of the Incas,
She would lure and entertain her unwary guest,
Her body full of emanating scents beguiles them to ecstasy,
And if she senses danger, she eludes a toxin,
That renders, the once seduced guest,
To be another victim of her passion.
The majestic Queen Sanguinea,
Overlooks her realms expanse,
From her hilltop palaces,
And its courtyard of still filled green faces.
With magnificence and savvy governance of her jungle kingdom,
She bears a formidable presence as she trumpets it, away,
And her magnanimity is without question,
For it is well known throughout and beyond, her wet domain,
For she is, after all, her royal majesty,
Sanguinea, Queen of the Incas.
*Sanguinea, of the aforementioned version--as there are several varieties, is a rather large trumpet red flower that is poisonous. It hangs downward from trees in a Peruvian jungle of South America (as pictured).
2019 May 31
*1st Place*
A STRAND (1074)
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 February 15