Long Battle axe Poems

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Premium Member Rpg Warrior

O,  elvenstone! O, elvenstone!
O, would that you could be my own.
To quest exhausted, all these years,
And not obtain those pointy ears
To sharpen sense, to hear my phone.

O battle axe! O battle axe!
For thy pursuit, my patience lacks.
Through garbage bins in fishing wharves,
Midst arguments with boorish dwarves;
My neighbor’s tree needs forty whacks.

Fine coat of mail, thy filigree
Would sure enhance the likes of me.
So tightly woven, silver, pale
Protect unwanted barbs’ assail
When getting honey from my bees.

Thou mighty blade, enchanted runes
Do grace thy hilt but not those hewn.
Sure, separating sinew, bone,
Ne’er losing edge in dirt or stone,
When Saturday, the hedge I prune.

I think that we can both agree:
When I immerse in D&D,
I get so caught up in the game,
Imagination is to blame;
Sometimes I blur reality.

----------

RPG - role playing game - I used to play Dungeons and Dragons some 40 years ago when you used dice and mapped everything out on graph paper. I imagine things have changed a bit since then...
© Jeff Kyser  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quintilla


Premium Member Harvey In Long Ago

Long long long long long long very still and longer yet
When men were men and women tried hard to forget it
The Germanic and Franks used an ancient warrior name
Strangely enough no one who used it ever achieved any fame

But those who bore this title of pure masculinity of man
In battle achieved feats if not defeats no one care to understand
No poems, no myths, no tells, no legends or even narly a fable
Bare witness to the name of a he man warrior so strong and able

Did it mean army battle axe? Or noble brave and strong
Was it Germanic? French? Celtic? and than to the Brits belong?
Now you can't help but think of that invisable movie bunny
In modern times it's seldom used because it sounds sort of funny

Harvey in long ago when the world was young and needed heroes
Meant might and could instill fright with the bloody axes blows
Was a name to boastfully proclaim back than without any shame
How times have changed the use and meaning of such a name

But I must confess of ancient warrior names of the untamed
Fearless, ferocious barbarian Germanic people of no or little fame
I like it best for no matter what it meant way way way back than
Today it means all around good guy and a really great friend
Form: Rhyme

Battle Axe and Her Republican Trumpeting Waze - Part 2

No sooner than we set foot within said domicile
attestation to so called gentleman’s’ agreement with guile
initially infrequently, but incessantly as time elapsed Isle 
never forget (nor will spouse forgive) with rancor and rile 
ceaselessly besieging, bruiting bare-knuckle skirmishes 
for us to remove ourselves and personal belonging with vile
lent vitriolic wrath from the day we decamped 
within hoity -toity Mainline – 
our matted unwelcome would endure for quite a white. 
*          I          *          S          *          I         *          N          *          G                  
With hindsight and accumulative less cloudy fifty shades of gray, 
an irrevocable clear er voyance viz summoning forth would lay
an irreconcilable rift (rivaling the Mariana), and constant nay 
saying presaged an emotional price to pay 
whereat we deterred sale of vintage crystal balls – our stay
purported prevented sale of precious heirlooms – oye vay
in tandem to estate sale divvied up, cuz we whar in the way.
*          I          *          S          *          I         *          N          *          G                  
Analogous to Little Red Riding Hood, we could not see 
blitzkrieg, cannonading, incessant strafe carpet bombing re:
bloody onslaught from the generation of elder vipers que
endured feeling trapped by memorabilia meant nothing to me
*          I          *          S          *          I         *          N          *          G                  
Warfare found us hunkering down within said tract housing unit, 
a fusillade fired off re: porting volleys of character assassination 
bombarded this unfortunate civilian clearly implicated to whit
for being a non jewish schlemiel inducing endless economic         
denigrating calumniations – fulminating against this “twit”
we decried wicked, vicious, unwarranted abuse would not quit 
with no defense against slings and arrows, a plague round
of ceaseless, ferocious, and insidious pilloried that pit 
pendulous injustices for each of our **** (emphatic branding 
per diem me own scrawny gluteus maximus  to git 
the hell out – eventually hiring a lawyer with eviction edict!
Form:

Premium Member Vermouth the Warrior

The forest had an eerie enchanted feeling.
His blade was itching to be slashing and reeling.
Vermouth stood his ground in this canopied ceiling.
Hearing the enemy in every whisper and dealing.

His men watched him carefully, at the ready.
There was Battle Axe Henry and Look out Freddy.
He held his blade at slash point, totally steady.
Listening for the enemy, feeling alert and ready. 

A rumor filtered through, from whence did it come?
Many men had been felled between today and yesterday’s sun.
He dared not make a mistake, so far the enemy was on the run.
He had to be vigilant and alert, he was his father’s son.

I think it’s over for tonight, his first lieutenant said.
Let’s put the blades away, eat, and retire to bed.
Vermouth could not relax, the adrenaline was running.
Stayed on vigilant alert, until sunrise, when the sun was sunning.

His men were not surprised, for he was a warrior true.
A man who lived to fight, in clouds or sky so blue.
Vermouth picked up his sword and led them to the meadow.
They could hear his warrior’s cry in every valley below.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Living In Their Drain

The day has cooled,
 into a recliner
muddied.
Rinse it off...replenish...repeat
mud sloughs off into somebody else's drain.
That's ok because I'm clean again.
  
Recycling this mud of the mind
into porcelain
attic spiders entwined.

Scrap and scrimp.
Grow fat again
swing the battle axe of id
growing thin.

Toss red flowers on mother's grave... 
What color were her eyes?
I've forgotten the color of the sky.
The same color as a messy demise?
It matters little anyway.

Move along; stagnant doesn't fit my cup.
Movement is life-stillness is death.
But there are exceptions...I've seen zombies...stumbling along.
I've seen still (ponds) explode into stars 

(confused)
bloodied...rinse...repeat...
living in their drain.
Form: Bio


Premium Member Commandment Battlement - Part Two -

If you fight with fervent heart,
roar of lion from your part,
perhaps true kindness will impart the vengence of a Goddess staved,
the moon now red with the noon's dead,
in your heart I'm sure is dread,for this rite you were not bred,
many times an oracle told: men from feet made of lead
are mercenaries poorly fed; in countless meadows they have bled,
will they toil loyal,paid by your moldy bread?

So go, my foe of woe,wear the royal robe to toe,
and drink the wine bitter slow,
I am Lord of the sword,a righteous king of the horde,
of many Gods I've implored
to smite this monger to the floor,
not for thirst of the gore
but to have a legend's lore,
to protect a People free with me,before you perish it will be!

The priests posture purely now at the front ranks with faces skyward
petitioning to consecrate,
as the cavalry concentrates hard on their horse's fate
feeling the trumpet's terrible,seething sound,
a wilting wind softly weathers the seasoned infantry's instinct
from gaze to green ground,
while they infer the jarring armor jangle of heavy horsemen,
sufficient to strangle reluctance to prostrate,
a low thunder thumps my ears,my spirit leers across,
limbs like gears I raise my battle axe ahigh,

Tepid tepid rain,from whence you came
not the curving cloud but from the adversary's frame,
the color of the warm rain is the magenta stain
of enemy's brain on my horse's mane,
the Bishop busies as assassin,an orthodox art that has always been,
your Knight is nigh,about to die,

J.A.B.  Part  Two -
Form: Epic

The Old Battle Axe and Her Hunchbacked Henchwomen

Matriarch mastermind manipulated minions 
rang their hells bells signifying 
damned to traverse highway to hell
dirty deeds done dirt cheap
(names changed fo' malady to remain anonymous,
cuz they got thunderstruck
with psychological trauma).

Preface:
Upon bitterly cold dawning hours of January 2000, 
the Harns family (not actual name of real persons 
constituting yours truly
mine wife and at that time 
deux darling very young daughters)
desperately sought place to live. 

Neon Swat Team (an independent realtor) politely 
informed us (meaning myself and the missus), our 
family lease would not be renewable. 

The reason without a rhyme?

Ever since events initially laid forth as poem,
I delightfully witnessed birth of daughter 
number two February 4th, 1999, (whose existence this 
papa helped beget approximately nine months prior), 
now twenty two plus years passed rendering contractual 
non-binding obligation null and void - whew. 

Even though then barely tipping scales at less than ten 
pounds of flesh, (this bundle of sugar, spice and everything 
nice, especially when adorned in pink bows inclusive), 
she warranted unlawful occupancy capacity subsequently 
exceeding one plus bedroom apartment in Schwenksville, 
Pennsylvania.

Body quasi poetic/prosaic
minimally couched, sunk, tabled... 
within wordy  mosaic:

We reckoned to live temporarily at premises vacated by 
mother in law from hell (since recent death of her husband, 
whose after life settled him in Willoughby) domicile situated 
at 1148 Tree Green Lane (a cozy and lazy keystone chic 
urban outfitted hamlet tucked into totally tubular foothills of 
Venn Palley, Pennsylvania), a nook of quaintness plum 
perfect where rivers Ratford Upon Savon converged.

Premium Member When Savages Sang Strongly 1

The leopard kills for love
sun burns for souls,
the moon moans for blood
stars frost the steppes,
the fire of your eyes
warms the wastelands,
alone the horse rides
Tree of Life leans to the winds,
the arrow strikes deep
a wound becomes wise,
the griffin sees you sleep
in this dream somebody dies,
lightning hesitates for your heartbeat
the storm doesn't stop for sympathies,

The storm doesn't stop for sympathies 
pick up your head and move towards Truth,
permafrost phantoms play for promises
amid the hills of hero's, ancestor's proof,
Kurgan Tombs keeping treasures young 
from the Northern Lights to the Pontic Plains,
memories of millenia the Scythians have sung
from Hyperborea to the Pyramids, 
with bow and battle axe liberty was earned
empires paid tribute to their valor,
they were the Masters of Eurasia's fortune
their spirit will always seek a new frontier,
the world pulled them away with a modern dawn
only the sun knows where to find the future,

Only the sun knows where to find the future
only the future knows where to find hope's clarity,
We embrace the song of the suffering vulture
rely not on the feed of death's charity,
We venture through the danger
exposed to the ancient elements,
predators prowl with patient hunger
We are prepared to wear the weapons,
Colonizing the wilderness with wisdom
We bring industry and culture,
there is a dance we call the Soul Storm
in which the falcon rides karma's fire,
when the Devil blows war's iron horn
destiny demands that we be the debtor,

J.A.B.  2020

Realizing with Real Eyes the I of the Storm MUST be a Trooper

Battle axe (For the 2nd Half) ...  "At last!"  
Way too fast past the rescue rascal hassling haphazardly mastered dastardly bastards' fractions of captioning cast iron spiraling wired wax on wax off golf cart Bart Simpson minced garlic cubes boob tube huge goober schooner dooms Days Taser taker wafer run stun gun NOT funny honey bun for one shunned lonesome wholesome quotient potion grunt of a stunt punt the ball into mid autumn leaves fall raking reiki draped date maker place mat patty whack hacky sack crap slapped happy tap dance romance slanted jambalaya riot spliced mice diet quiet cheese, please teases on both knees bereavement easing Fort Leavenworth girth that brings birth to twerk twerps slurred slurping squirts of hurting beef Jerky lurching around the church yard disbarred and charred crash cars 100 yards too far to see scars Mars rover Range Rover Red rover come over 4 leaf clover lawn mower seed Sower leaf blower as NOT just another voter devotional spokesperson swerving tertiary but too scary hairy fairy blue berry merry go round sage turns the page safe and sound clown town brown bag the sandwich fad dude and all of that...

Premium Member Black Flower

                  Black flower 
Sprouting from the rocky soil of the slums.
Powering through the cool concrete tombs.
Sweeping the devil from Eve's main street.
Floating fast away from the carnal grate.
Sipping from the grail, God's sweet rain.    

Now, you're blooming like an ebony pearl.
Despite the deep stain of steepening struggle... 
It was all about your spirited heart and grit.
You'll not be a flower on a teary clown's lapel.
You're a sparkling star atop a gem-kissed hill.

Pinprick temptation awaits-don't drift astray.
Doubters and detractors are fleet and persistent.
Forge iron discipline within the hue of good faith.
On occasion, flash petals like battle axe blades.
Thrashing mind ogres into a cracked nonexistence.

         Do honor your sextant soul...
      Never drift back into the abyss
    of the concrete's snake-eyed grip...
                  Black flower.
Form: Rhyme

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