Long Arthur Poems

Long Arthur Poems. Below are the most popular long Arthur by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Arthur poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Darrin's Troubles

Business executive Darrin Stephens has a life
with a good paying job, a fine boss, and a great wife.
He’s employed by a large advertising agency.
Darrin and Samantha should live with complacency.

However, when anyone sees them, that’s not the case,
some strange phenomena occur often at their place.
They have a nosy neighbor who’s named Gladys Kravitz.
She cannot prove what she knows, and it gives her some fits.

It is easy to determine Darrin’s troubles cause.
He has a bunch of witches and warlocks for in-laws.
His problems are many since he married Samantha.
Darrin’s mother-in-law goes by the name Endora.
It is an encumbrance, and certainly not a joke,
when Endora can turn him into an artichoke.

His father-in-law Maurice, his cousin Serena,
the jokester Uncle Arthur and old aunt named Clara,
cause plenty of problems for him and wife Samantha.
Darrin and Samantha have a daughter, Tabitha.
Daughter Tabitha has the power of a young witch.
Mommy and daddy keep telling her she must not “twitch”!
Whenever Samantha becomes ill on any day,
they call on a witch doctor quack named Dr. Bombay.
He often contributes to Darrin’s situations
with his magical spells, potions, and incantations.
With all of these things, why has not Darrin gone crazy?
These things make a funny situation comedy!

Robert Pettit  "Bewitched"
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member To My Friend, Arthur

I’d like to poke Arthur now
You said you were so dark
That you lie on the floor twisted
From yourself hurting you
Why my friend?
Why would you want to hurt yourself
When he is the last person you want to hurt?
I wonder when you are beginning to see what
We all see you
A kind person, funny, full of laughter and full of light
Yes you do have your dark edge
But that is an allowance
We have to have room to breathe
To be on our dark side
On your days
But other than that your main person is who you are 
Not your dark side
That is causing you unhappiness
Light drowns out darkness
Haven’t you noticed? 
When you turn on the light 
What happened?
The room is full of light
Just like our image
We have to turn on the light
To really see who we are
Can’t see you in darkness, can ya?
Anyway, just want to let you know
What you haven’t already known
You will thank you for being a good guidepost
Instead of a punchbag
You know your body is going to rebel
And then you will have a mess to deal with
Haha anyway be gentle on yourself
Good old friend
I can say you are old
Because you are not young enough not to know better
Soo no more of that trash
It does not belong in you
It belongs on the curb

Robin's Inkwell Mysteries: The Case of the Silver Linings

The wealthy Sterling family
was completely devastated 
when their beloved butler,
Arthur, suddenly vanished.

Arthur had served them with
flawless devotion, warmth,
and unmatched grace for
over three decades.

Lord Reginald and Lady
Eleanor immediately 
gathered the entire
household staff in the grand 
library.

Detective Richard Vance was
called to the mansion to
investigate the mysterious,
sudden disappearance.

Vance began by searching 
Arthur's meticulous quarters,
looking for any hidden clues
or notes.

inside a leather- bound
ledger, Vance found a 
frantic, handwritten note
detailing a dark secret.

Arthur discovered that Clara
the maid and Thomas the 
gardener were secretly
stealing luxury silverware.

The brilliant butler noticed 
the sterling silver forks and 
golden platters vanishing 
week by week.

When Arthur confronted the
thieving duo in the 
greenhouse, they panicked
and took him hostage.

Clara and Thomas bound and
gagged the loyal butler,
locking him deep inside the 
dark root cellar.

Vance noticed Clara's hands
trembling violently as she
served tea during the tense
interrogation.

The detective also spotted
fresh, deep mud tracking
from the greenhouse directly 
into the main house.

Thomas claimed he was busy 
trimming the hedges all
morning, but his boots were
completely dry.

Vance swiftly led the worried 
Sterling family down into the 
damp, shadowy depths of
the cellar.

With a heavy iron key found
in Clara's apron pocket,
Vance unlocked the rusted
cellar door.

There lay Arthur, bound to a
wooden chair but thankfully 
completely unharmed and
safe.

Beside him sat three massive 
canvas sacks overflowing 
with the family's missing 
luxury silverware.

Clara and Thomas fell to their
knees, weeping and
confessing to the entire
greedy scheme.

Lord Reginald immediately 
called the authorities, while
Lady Eleanor wept tears of 
pure relief.

The beloved butler was safely saved, and the family 
threw a grand feast in his honor.

Robin's Inkwell Mysteries: The Curtain Call Murder

The Grand Opera House was
packed to capacity for the 
closing night of the season.
Soprano Bianca London 
delivered a flawless 
performance that moved the
entire audience to tears.
Among the crowd sat Leo
Henderson, an obsessed fan who
believed Bianca sang exclusively 
for him. 
Leo had sent dozens of 
unsigned letters, but Bianca 
had ignored every single one.
Driven by the dark jealousy,
Leo sneaked into the backstage
corridors during the final standing
ovation. 
He slipped into Bianca's 
private dressing room and 
waited silently in the dim 
shadows.
When Bianca walked through 
the door, Leo confronted her
with a bouquet of black roses.
Bianca threatened to call 
security, causing Leo to 
lose his grip on reality 
completely.
He grabbed a silk prop scarf
from the vanity and brutally 
strangled the talented star.
Leo fled through the rear 
fire exit before the stage
manager discovered the 
tragic scene.
The police arrived quickly,
but the killer left no
fingerprints or physical DNA
behind.
The murder shocked the 
music world, and 
investigators struggled to
find a solid lead. 
Detective Arthur Pendleton 
took the case, carefully 
reviewing Bianca's fan mail 
for clues.
He noticed one letter
contained a unique quote
from an obscure, centuries-old
Italian opera. 
Two weeks later, Arthur 
attended a public memorial 
service held for the fallen
singer.
The detective watched the 
mourners closely, looking for 
anyone acting suspiciously or 
overly emotional.
He spotted Leo placing a
single black rose onto the 
memorial alter in the lobby.
Arthur approached Leo 
and casually struck up a 
conversation about Bianca's 
legendary repertoire. 
Leo proudly quoted the
exact obscure opera line
from the letter, trapping 
himself completely.
The obsessed fan was 
arrested on the spot, final 
justice delivered for the 
opera star.

Premium Member Purpling Shadows- Glosse

~Purpling Shadows~ 
 ( Glosse)


 ~Cabeza~ 

 I want you when the shades of eve are falling 
 And purpling shadows drift across the land, 
 When sleepy bird to loving mates are calling- 
 I want the soothing softness of your hand. 

 (Inspired by the poem 'I Want You' by Arthur L. Gillom) 


 I want you no matter what tides the year may bring 
 In winter and autumn in summer and spring 
 When as a sweet song your name in a whisper I sing 
 I want you when the shades of eve are falling 

 When the mountains sings and raises at sea aglow the sand 
 And evergreens and all kind of creatures enlivens the land 
 And birds of every color and songs merrily band 
 When purpling shadows drift across the land 

 I love you and from your love I happily cling 
 I'm flying and dreaming of love beneath your wing 
 Making sweet music together we greet spring 
 When sleepy bird to loving mates are calling- 

 I want you I love you through time sky and land 
 Here and there and in every starlight that shows bright 
 And when the sun and the moon delivers the day and the night
 I want the soothing softness of your hand.


 Dorian Petersen Potter
 aka ladydp2000
 copyright@2015



 June.14.2015
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member If I Could Be a Kid Again

If I could be a kid again
I’d run headlong, unfettered in the wind, 
or pretend I was Tom Sawyer 
or Huckleberry Finn.

I’d put frogs inside my teachers desk
and tie knots in young girls hair,
if I could be a kid again
I’d shoot arrows up in the air.  

Aiming high into the sky
towards an enemy in my head, 
perhaps a passing birthday balloon 
or a flying elephant instead. 

School would be vague memories 
of playing hooky left and right,
while fishing in my favorite pond
every morning, noon, and night.

I’d run around my little town 
like King Arthur in my world,
eating ice cream and candy bars 
while chasing girls and squirrels.


If I could be a kid again
I would count the stars at night,
just like how we used to do 
with a full moon burning bright.  

When all the world was made for me 
And my nickel candy drops,
I always shared with my good friends, 
and those I loved a lot.

But if I could be a kid again
and start over back in time, 
I’d have to say “No thanks, today,
I’ve enjoyed the hills I’ve climbed.”  

I had my run and it was fun  
but time keeps ticking by, 
if I could be a kid again
I guess I’d like to fly.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Thank You Mr Fox

“...The great teacher inspires.“ William Arthur Ward

“Gratitude is a powerful catalyst for happiness. It’s a spark that lights a fire of joy in your soul.”   Amy Collette

“Gratitude turns what we have into enough”    Anonymous 

THANK YOU MR. FOX

What does the Fox say -
his kind eyes, emphatically speak;
his hopped-up ears in tune.

A sheltered girl sans life experience
in a room full of snapping turtles.

Mr. Fox did not extinguish the timid light.
Instead he sprinkled ideas — fireworks explode.

The Fox says very little and so much.
His pointed ears and gentle spirit
saw hope in a teenage cocoon.

The Fox was wise...his tale goes on in mine.
Dendrites lift you up — rolling out the clouds.

10/29/2019
Favorite Teacher or Professor Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Cooke

Premium Member Merlin the Magic Cat

Arthur, the King, had a big table that
Was ever so round and was heavy and flat
One day it collapsed and it squashed Merlin - SPLAT!
But the wizard came back as a soppy old cat

In Camelot, soon all the doggies were gone
In Camelot, all of the rats tried it on
In Camelot, where the cat wasn’t so daft
He muttered this spell (which was catty witchcraft)

“Gone, the wizard, wise of brow
Gone, the dog, no bow wow wow
Hail the cat, meow meow
Rats, be lunch before me now.”

But wizards, even when they’re cats
Exceed all human lifetime stats
Arthur, long since in the ground
Merlin now, is still around

Not a cat inclined to roam
Never lacked for hearth and home
Any home mad keen on doggies
One quick spell and they choose moggies

Did that in this very house
Turned the dog into a mouse
We took him in and called him Muffy
Silly name, but we’re not stuffy

Under the table, a bed for Muffy
We laid a mat, all pink and fluffy
Muffy spoke which messed my head
Still I heard what Muffy said…

“You may think I’m a soppy cat
Which might explain my fluffy mat
But that there table’s round and flat
There’s no way I’ll sleep under that!”

“I am wizard, wise of brow
Though my skin be feline now
I’m no ‘Muffy’ anyhow
I am Merlin, then… and now!”



6 October 2022
Contest: Merlin The Magic Cat
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Form: Rhyme

Wimpole Street, Part 2 of 7

(Alfred, Lord Tennyson, the greatest of Victorian
poets, formed a very close relationship with
Arthur Hallam and frequently visited the Hallam
home in Wimpole Street.  After Hallam's sudden
death, Tennyson frequently returned to the house,
and stood weeping in the street.)

Tears, Idle Tears

When two young men are close – are more than friends,
perhaps? – as Tennyson and Hallam were,
and with one’s sudden death, the friendship ends,
what may we (faced with morbid grief) infer?

That Arthur bore the promise of the age
is well attested.  But was taken young.
Is sorrow something simply to assuage,
or are there deeper wellsprings?  Alfred clung 

unhealthily to his.  The morning rain
would lash him as he stood there, hat in hand,
in front of sixty-seven, drenched in pain
he neither could discharge nor understand:

abandoned lover, feverish and thin,
with salty raindrops dripping from his chin.
Form: Sonnet

Dear Arthur

Dear Arthur,

I haven't met you yet,
But I know you'll be here soon,
And I can't wait to see your face,
And hold you in my arms.

I know you'll fall into our lives,
Like long-awaited rain in Spring,
Melting the last of winter snow, 
Along with our fragile hearts

Soon you'll wake to a strange world
That you won't understand,
But I hope I can help you see
The beauty of it all,
And give you everything you need

For now I like to think of you
As a warm and tiny seed,
Safely nestled in the earth,
Waiting for its moment
To break the surface

And when you rise to meet the sun,
I know my love for you will bloom,
Like endless fields of April flowers,  
Welcoming you to the world.
© Nick Ruff  Create an image from this poem.

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