Conan Poems | Examples

Sky of Fireflies

His sanguine spirit turns every firefly into a star.
—Arthur Conan Doyle

Sky of Fireflies

Might I return to the night, alone,
except for the pitter patter of rain,
except for the thunderbolt of fireworks,
somewhere in the distance, rather
close, yet unattainable, except by foot
or engine roar, through my forest
and over the hill, beyond the houses,
might I return to the night, alone.

On the deck, my extravaganza begins,
beyond my nose, my fingertips, the screen.
In July, a rampant light show, as if
stars rappelled just above the human heart.
This electrifying dominion, quite unexpected.

The earth, moistened and morose. Osmosis
of celebration and outlandish spectacle,
for an audience of one. Oh! How good God is!

Amidst crackles and whistles, the strobes,
of an army of fireflies, light up my backyard.
Curious as Alice, have I fallen into Wonderland?
I have a front row seat sans willows, comets
and Chrysanthemums, but the sky over
my sodden green moss is the epitome
of heaven on earth; His presence in the night.

The Bond With Pegasus

 Near Living Waters a bond is Forged
 Gilded Hooves and Wings and Swords,
 Feathers of Fire and Light Scintillate Ablaze
 I Saddle Up and Ride the High Heavens Way,
 Flailing Beams of Radiance, Zion Bound
 Upright for the Glory, Upright for the Crown
 One with the Bond comes Forth the Golden Man
 ARCHETYPE LEGENDARY!!! Swinging Steel like Conan,
 Galloping High North propelled by the Wind Force
 Solar luminous, Marching Knightly up the High Roads
 Divine is the Essence, Blazing Stallions like Bellerophon
 Through the Eternal Springs of Life and Beyond,
 Sprung Forth by The Calling I'm a Wild Soul
 Heroic Sown, Bold, and Sun Born
 Gleaming Palladium Shaffron, Cruppers and Crinets
 I Ride with PEGASUS, The Greater Self
 One by the Lightning, One with the Thunder
 Full Speed Ever-Upward, Ever-Onward

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Born on Scottish soil
Both writer and physician, he delivered us Sherlock Holmes.
A spiritualist too, he believed in fairies; possibly in gnomes!

Emagi Conan Doyle Golf Links

Conan Doyle LAY of the LINKS 


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My Foolish Heart

Fafhrd, Conan, Tarzan...
They could all beat me in a battle!
But when seeking true love,
I'm the one in the saddle.

But I'm the foolish one,
cause I had a dear love near,
though I took my heart to the internet
where my keystrokes torqued my steer.

In seeking the truest of love,
I was catfished by a foreigner,
and lost everything I knew and loved
where my real dreams swallowed shortener.

My heart is now shattered in a million pieces;
only true love here is covered deep in feces!


Saturday, April 2, 2022
MY FOOLISH HEART Cash Prize Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS

Blooming May Birthdays

Around us see May flowers, all in bloom
Let's gleefully start to shed Pandemic gloom

There's much less need to give each other lots and lots of room
Because no longer must we meet - if at all - on Zoom

Party times resuming now at stadia, beach and bars
While JPL's ingenious new 'AIRcraft' flies on Mars

While busy hands delineate panel lines and ailerons
Our minds note that May birthdays include cultural icons

Fred Astaire and Martha Graham still show us high-class dance
Mary Cassat and Katherine Hepburn represent romance
To writers, Margaret Fuller and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Inspire our own compositional toil
All wonder how far we'd go if we only really tried
To venture smart and curious, like NASA's Sally Ride

Closer to home, more immediately
This May includes two birthdays, each of 70
Unnoticed by Historians...that may be
but they're for Kenneth Murphy, and for me.

Astoneyhenge

a carvery the sadistical it plough the salt on pewter it swords poles, rods, 
it makes that satic it means a Conan, it twilight it scourges, it raid the emcamp it ask not
a baby humanity it ask not in eye, it had it gouged out
it asked the arm torn off it asked the nimrouiB Khan it asked it carried the a pole  50foot og long it made

it decapitated its own men women, child has thrown o'er these off a wall, 10s oh thousands
i sleuth it winds, it smouldered they ofh it made decapitated, a head oh a stick, do tell oh the inge 
it taught og these own it asked oh me taught of the body og 

women, i asked it Sorceri it Sargent it ask og me   how is it the sticks, here is Herod, it me plough how we did meek it slaughtered
be me it taugh a central og it body part removal made a fistula
feed feel not it make of a feminine it made she, it stolen her it made i 

me slouch a i a child is made a man,  he Wilders the post
be k be known it  hunted humanity it body become of apple

Marvel 1960s

MARVEL 1960s

As I journey into mystery
I come across the tower of shadows
Into the chamber of darkness
I'm found tales to astonish
Hulking and giant men
Sub marina
Involved in tales of supense
Iron men and american Captains
Oh! but strange tales
Doctors and one eye patch wearing --
    government men
Women named Millie and Chili
and both of them are modeling
Alien beings silver surfering in the skies
UFO's and nova alien beings from all over
Barbarian conan astonishing tales
Kazar Doctors of doom, ghost riders
Adventures amazing inhumans
Black widow, cloak and dagger
Rawhide kid Sgtof fury howling commandos
Leatherneck raiders and Captain Savage
dun know if ya old enough
or even if you know what I'm talkin bout
Mention titles above of marvel 1960's hero books
who say's this poem has to rryme of even be good
I said  mention above titles of old marvel comic texts
And yea I'll even mention "NOT BRAnD ECHH"

MARVEL 1960s

Written by James Edward Lee Sr.
12/23/17

Story of My Life

I AM A MAN WITH AN GOLDEN EYE
AND THATS' WHY I DON'T BOTHER ABOUT MY BRAIN DEAD
ALL I WANT IS TO ENTER THE DRAGON
- IN THE SHANGAI NOON
'COS I AM A DARE DEVIL AND ITS MY BASIC INSTICT
ALSO I HAVE THE RING
AND THAT'S THE SWEETEST THING OF ME
WHEN I BEND IT LIKE BECKHAM
AND MY MISSION IMPOSSIBLE
MY WORLD IS NOT ENOUGH FOR ME ME
THE GHOST IN ME SAYS, CATCH ME IF YOU CAN
AND I RUN,
COS' MY BLOOD TIED OF AN INDECENT PROPOSAL
IF I WERE UNFAITHFUL AND MY TOMORROW NEVER DIES
THEN I WILL BE THE UNHOLY, YET
ALL OF MY DAYS WERE SPENT IN THE HAUNTING
JUST LIKE NOTTING HILL,
EVEN THOUGH I WERE A GLADIATOR
I WAS KISSED BY THE PERFECT STORM
AND STOOD ALONE IN THE DEEP BLUE SEA,
BETWEEN THE MEN OF HONOR, I WAS LIKE A HOLLOW MAN
YET TO BECOME LIKE CONAN THE BARARIAN
FINALLY, I LEARNT THAT THESE WERE THE END OF DAYS
BUT I WANNA DIE ANOTHER DAY

Uncle Gay Gayballs

Uncle Gay Gayballs gobbled down a big whale
                                It was a good killer who began to swell 
                                       It pressed his southern part
                                         But  Gay was very smart
                             He sat on Mister Bart and  read Conan Doyle 












  Uncle Gay Gayballs/ Limerick Copyright (c) Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty 11/22/2014

Commencement Speaker

At my college graduation
There most likely was a speech,
But my memory of whose it was
Is simply out of reach.

Yet today celebrities can claim
Commencement’s greatest prize – 
All those celebrating graduates
To bolster and advise.

Surely Conan, Oprah, Ellen
Would a nifty speech produce
But I envy those who listened
To a talk by Dr. Seuss.

It was many years ago, it’s true
And I just read a part of it
But just as you’d expect,
Some perfect rhyme was at the heart of it.

Had I been there, I can guarantee
That I would recollect
Both the message and his manner
And more words than you’d expect.

But instead, my graduation day
Has faded from my mind,
Though I’ll bet there was some wisdom
That the speaker hoped we’d find.

Radio Voices

RADIO VOICES 


Thirty-three and a half minutes listening to the static; 
I'm one big ear! hoping to hear a message 
from the other side... 

Beethoven has an unfinished symphony he wants completed, 
Arthur Conan Doyle complains fiction today is all detective work, 
Joan of Arc loves Mel Brooks. 

Thirty-four and a half minutes and my patience snaps; 
I turn to RTE, the writer Derek Mahon 
Is being discussed by a panel. 
They've detected importance in his poem 
'A Disused Shed in Co. Wexford'. 

Mushrooms decaying in the dark, 
Holy Joes adrift in a Godless cellar, 
Sweethearts who've missed the boat, 
Bollards moored in misery, 
Death-pale and ghostly. 

I would store this poem in a cool dark place 
and only bring it out into the light of day 
for a bookish friend, a literature hound; 
it merits close inspection.

Sham and Sorcery

The Super-hero swings his sword
Down clang, clang, clang,
It rang, rang, rang,
Went bang, bang, bang
On his foeman’s thick, thick skull.

The publishers commission more
Such tales, tales, tales,
(More sales, sales, sales!)
And males, males, males
Will imagine they’re Conan or Kull.

Sham and Sorcery

The Super-hero swings his sword
Down clang, clang, clang,
It rang, rang, rang,
Went bang, bang, bang
On his foeman’s thick, thick skull.

The publishers commission more
Such tales, tales, tales,
(More sales, sales, sales!)
And males, males, males
Will imagine they’re Conan or Kull.

Sham and Sorcery

The Super-hero swings his sword
Down clang, clang, clang,
It rang, rang, rang,
Went bang, bang, bang
On his foeman’s thick, thick skull.

The publishers commission more
Such tales, tales, tales,
(More sales, sales, sales!)
And males, males, males
Will imagine they’re Conan or Kull.

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