Best Saxons Poems
Ah, the rhododendrons, dear and bright,
Look at them for a moment, three seconds,
Seek them in the streets, in silence,
Explore the small multicolored gardens,
They are pink, purple, white, shiny, red.
Ah dear rhododendrons, they are crazy,
They drove the Macedonian soldiers mad,
Admire them, they are righteous warriors,
Thracians, Saxons, blue Spartans
They make you forget the enemies, emus,
Ah, the rhododendrons, dear and bright,
Love is no longer enough to believe in God,
Look at the rhododendrons, admire them,
Pink, White, Red, Mauve , Purple, Shiny,
They heal the ills, give back to courage.
NB it should be known that in antiquity, rhododendron alcohol was given to soldiers to make them crazy while fighting ( from memory)
Categories:
saxons, 10th grade, beautiful, flower,
Form:
Free verse
Viking me, I want to be
warrior culture, decadent vulture
plunder & pillage, every village
navigate the sea, longboat to be
clash of steel, organic feel
Viking Me, I want to be
impenetrable shield wall, kingdom fall
Valhalla bound nomads, Victorious death glad
Discovery of Vinland, Vigilance of Norse man
Expedition by Erichson, conquest by Self assertion
Viking me, I want to be
slayer of Saxons, settle in Briton
cognizant of victory, details are gory
bringing cathartic terror, no maidens fairer
discernment of Odin’s Eye, Viking battle cry
Viking me, I want to be
Winter harvest feast, sacrifice the beast
preserve Heathen blood, The Christian flood
warlike mind, one of a kind
unstoppable force, ultra violent source
Categories:
saxons, history,
Form:
Lyric
England my England sets standards anew
Coveted ideals drooled over by hordes
an empire elated shall forever be true
Gilded by conquest stronger men knew
The Romans Saxons Vikings and Nords
England my England sets standards anew
Perched on red charabanc tourism grew
Drinking fine history of ladies and lords
an empire elated shall forever be true
England is England where all blood is blue
Timeless memory through poetic chords
England my England sets standards anew
Traditions so loyal old mingle with new
Pirated treasures kept still in their hoards
an empire elated shall forever be true
England my English country right through
of contrasting pageantry given by wards
England my England sets standards anew
an empire elated shall forever be true
Categories:
saxons, england,
Form:
Rhyme Royal
The Normans came and conquered
They landed in the night
I think we could have beaten them
Till Harold lost his sight!
The Normans came and conquered
Their country wanted more
They gave us all a thrashing
And left us feeling sore!
The Normans came and conquered
We Saxons ran to Wales
In the hills we stayed and hid
Until they set their sails!
The Normans came and conquered
Just like the Romans did before
But in good time we grew quite bold
And showed them all the door!
Categories:
saxons, funny, history,
Form:
Rhyme
The Bard of the Norseman
A warrior’s fame and for glory all Norseman live worthy of life
Worthy the Norseman with warring axe to victory and spilt Saxon blood
For spoils of the serpent’s lair lie across the whale’s road
Far from the girls in the houses they love
Seeking a quest these warriors of Oden -always the dream for a bard’s song
Now set sail upon a journey –a glorious adventure- a hunting do they go
Do steer the battered sea-steed adorned by dragon’s head and tail
Endure the breaker of trees from artic northern hail
Skid the waves and endure towards a foreign mystical shore
Below a pallid sky-candle and darkening gray dim light
Nebulous rains doth hinder the rudderman’s impeded sight
Till at last the first oarsman peers across the misty horizon
Mystical panorama- calls acclamation unto Oden- makes call of reached land
These feeders of ravens rave honor into Oden
Lord of the gallows hath made the glory of the elves to shine
Down upon warriors the sun makes glisten- their metal horn helmets and shields
Set afoot to feed the eagles-prey on either Christian or druid-with a wounding-hoe
Seeking untold fame and glory and carry back a dragon’s hoard load
To brighten the battle-sweat of those made conquered
And sing unto Oden- tell their tales- make legends of victors
Believing Valhella's glory to come thus hunting they do go
Doth all Norseman perform deeds of valor with axe victory and slaughter-dew
So did live the Vikings Danes Anglo Saxons who wore warded blue
Categories:
saxons, adventure, hero, history, mythology,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Of European descent, from whence they came
Across the borders to settle, re-establishment
Angles, Saxons and Jutes – Anglo-Saxon be known
Conquered lands, such roads have served, that of the Roman Empire
Yet under attack, strong order we lack
Helpless – o’ kingdom cry
As legions left, nations wept
Our production has ceased
O’ Saxons – mercenaries be hired
Will you defend us now?
Picts trouble thee
From ‘worthlessness’, ‘choice nature’ reflect
Anglo warriors now stand abreast
Ruddy remains, Arthur’s battle in vain
Battle of Hastings, charge and maim
A legend’s defeat, as armies retreat to lands afore
O treasured finds, beneath the silt
Fragmented helmet, of skilled design
Corrosion abhor, yet to restore
Tarnished silverware, o’ iron rusts
For much gold lay, retained –unchanged
Grave goods of Sutton Hoo, barrow over thy ship
O’ King be laid?
With objects frayed
Unaware of whetstone wear – we honour thee!
Of features present, of features past
Churches of stone, post-hole home
Tis farming year, with ploughs we break
Prepare thy soil, crops shall thrive
Fatten thy cattle, raise thy calf
Barter thee, present ye half
Commence thy craft, thy potter’s clay
Of antler work and carpentry
Thee be skilled, our peoples free
Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
Categories:
saxons, children, education,
Form:
Free verse
Loving you is easy
As you are the door – Ianua
To spring
Ice clouds are held in the furnace:
Dirty grey pearls
Your other name is of course
Janus- you are the month of transition
Though I love you as you are
Frostbites as your trade
Dew on the sullen grass
Fog of Monet above Thames
The sun bites its tongue: pusillanimous
Loving you is easy
For you are full of hope and mystery
Away with the yesteryear we sing
Welcome January- our pagan hearts chant.
Sometimes snow whitewashes the towns
And the broken hearts begin to mend
At its diamond glow.
Loving you is easy
For you are the Wulf- Monath
Of the Saxons.
Blue eyed ancient creatures
Flame our imaginations
White furs and fragile egos.
Loving you is easy
As your aluminium foiled soil
Is toiled and tamed
For the bulbs and the seeds
Oh the anticipation to witness the colours and scents again
The earth will shed its dead skin
Soon.
Categories:
saxons, january, love, new year,
Form:
Rhyme
St David our patron and wearer of daffies
Lynched by the English who named us all Taffies
With our fellow Celts, they feared we would stand
and repel Anglo-Saxons from all British land
But spring-time did come, along with a truce
The trumpets of yellow announcing the news
A change in the seasons, a break in the rain
The daffodils dance in the warm breeze again
*Happy St Davids day for March 1st
Dydd Gwyl Dewi I pawb yn Cymru ar Mawrth 1af*
For Francines Daffodil contest
29th Feb 2012
Categories:
saxons, anniversary, nature, daffodils,
Form:
Rhyme
Uther, the High king of England
fell in love with the Lady Igraine
Knowing she was married to Gorlois
he decided to fight the walrus
For he was the Duke of Tintagel
that Uther wanted to mangle
‘Thus he defeated his enemy’
and took her, his wife to be
The High King delighted to tell
of Merlin’s magical spell
How he’d become Gorlious in disguise
and fooled the Lady Igraine to socialize
Tintagel castle was full of joy
celebrating the birth of a baby boy
‘Twas Arthur they had named him’
a bonnie baby small and slim
They lived in a dangerous time
where Saxons attacked without sign
So Uther gave his son for safety
to his immortal wizard thats greatly
In time Merlin fostered him away
to Sir Ectors where he would stay
Raised in the Cornwall countryside
where he grew strong and very wise
He grew up with his foster brother Kay
not knowing his real parents any way
He didn’t know he was heir to the throne
until later when it became known
King Uther died and no one knew
about His son that should over rule
So arguments broke out everywhere
who should be King, who would dare
But Merlin had a cunning plan
to make Arthur take a stand
For he was the true king and heir
a kingdom he would rule and fair
A mysterious stone magically appeared
in St.Paul’s cathedral, in the garden rear
Extending out, was a huge sword
a message inscribed to my Lord
Whoever pulls this sword from the stone
will be the rightful High King of England’s throne
© Copyright 22nd December 2010 K.C.Leake
Categories:
saxons, adventure, education, historyson, baby,
Form:
Couplet
A snow bound silence descends now
upon my hallowed home,
the traffic's gone, the streets unplowed
and I'm engrossed in tomes.
A ribald tale of myst'ry roils
the knights have charged the breech
the bard sings tall tales of old
of maiden's love's unleashed.
The pendants mark the battles course
as Saxons face the Celts
unarmored men fought Saxon's, Norse
in naught but paint and pelts.
And so it was, and so it is
as men live or die for a kiss.
Categories:
saxons, fantasy, life, love, on
Form:
Sonnet
A cherished childhood spent cocooned in my inward-looking community,
Protected me from the indoctrination of a white-privileged history.
But when I stepped into a world where brown was under-represented
My identity…Was molested.
My speech, skin, hair and dress, seemed to cause the white man stress.
And brown was a tan on the white man’s skin,
But brown on a brown man stirred anger from within.
My thoughts and views were misaligned, with rooted, selective, historical lies.
My identity…Was compromised.
I was now paradoxically an exotic delight, a shameful pressure to apologise
For the privilege of living in the civilised world, where white and West comfortably merge.
My education spoke of no oppressive past, the Normans and Saxons, unequivocal facts.
No mention of my ancestors, murdered. Indigenous peoples, exploited, slaughtered.
Building privilege through the strength of tyranny,
Calculated villainy.
White privilege, invisible to the white, naked eye. Yet it lives in every coloured breath,
In every silent cry.
I have lived with an unseen claim, that white is right and everything else is to blame.
But lessons in life inspired me to rise and pronounce myself with an internal pride.
To name and shame the blood-stained colonialist, the callous, indifferent, imperialist.
And from their murderous history, rose the modern man insecurity,
The truth, the bloody, brutal, truth, that is the black man’s reality.
Still evident today is a strong disclination, reflected in the ignorance of the nation
To admit that their historical success, was moralistically, humanely, a bloody mess.
But not all should hang their head in shame…it’s not you but your past that is to blame.
Yet the consequences of those crimes, have won you privilege and power through time.
And the legacy of the other: disadvantage, subjugation, intimidation, domination.
And still they make subconscious judgements, of my backward, other, non-conformist views.
A stubbornness in accepting and respecting the path that I decide to choose.
Delve deep into your history, open up your subliminal mind,
And ask the difficult questions, seek, unfeigned, with loosened pride.
Categories:
saxons, prejudice, racism,
Form:
Rhyme
If we meet at the ball, just one dance, that’s all
And if by chance we do meet at the ball, you shall have that dance
A dance with an angel fallen from stars,
to grace this humble knight from a kingdom afar
And this angel from above who has fallen from the stars,
would ever so softly grace you with a kiss, a reward for his kindness
On my knees, I make this vow, my heart is yours, forever from now
I give this challenge to any who dare,
no dragon, nor sorcerer, can break the bond of love we share
And off we ride my gallant knight, you pull me close and hold me tight
A sweet embrace, our bodies entwined, our fate fulfilled, our destinies combined. Knight, you have won my heart
Not even death itself n’er we part
Against the Saxons I fell, but not before sending scores to Saxon Hell
Thoughts of you gave me power, and for a moment, we won the hour
But they were many, and we were few
Then Saxon steel, ran me through….
With my dying breath, I called out for you
And upon your brow my years do fall
In waking dreams, I hear your call
Even in death our love rings true,
until my own brings me back to you
A single rose upon your grave
A soul as beautiful as he was brave
A love that knows, no earthly bounds
Even confined to these hallowed grounds
You died dignified with honor and glory
Our love was truly a fairy tale story
Categories:
saxons, romantic,
Form:
Verse
Already the month
of August 2018,
May never become
a je June'm
(Forget-me-not)
time of year,
especially for nouveau
homeless and,
penniless residents,
(now more like worrier),
who reside in the
(burnt to a crisp)
Golden State where,
towering uncontrollable
wild fire infernos veer
really did tax mental,
physical, and spiritual
oye vey iz mare (to
the bajillion power
of Google Plex) their
heirlooms, mementos,
and trappings of
das kapital lifestyle
went up in smoke,
which tragedy didst seer
the eyes (yes, iz traumatic,
but also the air)
looms with toxic
particulate matter,
though concerned former
propertied owners
(now ashen faced)
as utter grief doth rear
a scorched (bumping) ugly head,
yet the onset of Autumn,
(and the main
purport of this poem)
(oh my dog, that twill be
in approximately three weeks,
when Eastern Orthodox Church
denotes beginning of ecclesiastical
annum mull house
for straight or *****
(these times opening
doors to LGBT, or GLBT
(an initialism that
stands for lesbian,
gay, bisexual, and transgender),
nonetheless history
replete with app pear
chock full of factoids such as:
September (Latin septem,
"seven") with near
exhaustive steeped in
pagan glory of antiquity.
Ancient Roman observances
for September include:
Ludi Romani, originally celebrated
September 12 - September 14,
later extended to
September 5 to September 19.
In 1st century BC, an extra day added
in honor of deified
Julius Caesar on 4 September.
Epulum Jovis held: September 13.
Ludi Triumphales held: September 18–22.
Septimontium celebrated September, and
December 11 on later calendars
September called "harvest month"
in Charlemagne's calendar.
September corresponds partly to
Fructidor and partly to Vendémiaire
of first French republic.
On Usenet, September 1993
(Eternal September) never ended.
September called Herbstmonat,
harvest month, in Switzerland.
The Anglo-Saxons called
month Gerstmonath,
barley month, that crop
then usually harvested.
Categories:
saxons, 12th grade, 9th grade,
Form:
Imagism
At his wedding Arthur received
a magnificent round table, he was pleased
From king Leodegrances of cameliard
graciously covered, impressively carved
As time went by Arthur decreed
twenty four men that would up heed
He made them knights and brothers to him
to keep the laws and not to sin
Twenty four knights, gallant and steady
to serve their king and country, ready
They sat round the table with one another
each one loving their fellow brother
One knight caught Arthur’s eye
his combat skills, extremely high
He made him his champion knight
Sir Lancelot, who relished the fight
The knights became so well known
throughout Briton, throughout Rome
There fame spread around the globe
to foreign countries they all rode
Slaying dragons and fighting battles
their missions heard, with deathly rattles
At Mount Badon their glorious victory
defeating the Saxons, the rest is history
Now the people had peace here in Briton
but the knights became unsettled and ridden
So at mystic Merlin’s magical suggestion
Arthur listened and didn’t question
They sent the knights on a crusade
to the Holy land where they all prayed
In search of the Holy Grail
which became a wondrous tale
The roman Emperor was so impressed
with Arthur’s army and religious quest
And after a lot of talk and fighting
gave him the western half of Europe, in writing
Queen Guinevere had fallen for Sir Lancelot
he returned her favours quite a lot
He tried hard to control his heart
but his love grew strong from the start
Poor Arthur did not know
until his nephew Mordred, told him so
© Copyright 28th December 2010 K.C.Leake
Categories:
saxons, adventure, education, history
Form:
Couplet
Scots-Irish borderers, devout, austere—
With Anglo-Saxons—made their rugged route
West from Watauga, in the chilliest year
Marked in history. Five hundred miles out
Across Kentucky , down to “Tanase”
They trekked with horses, cattle, sheep.
James Robertson led forth this odyssey
That halted opposite where bluffs of steep
And craggy cedar-guarded limestone, rose
Above the Cumberland…a river iced and white,
That Christmas Day when ever rivers froze.
And when the cliff-side landmark loomed in sight
The cavalcade traversed the water’s frigid span.
Then, in their lean-to’s. praised the Son of Man.
Categories:
saxons, history
Form:
Sonnet