Long Camelot Poems

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


Fantasy

Imagine, for this night, you are the queen of Fairy Tale land.
I, too, am a prince, from Make-Believe kingdom.

From beyond our cocooned proximity,
the night shimmers in and thickens to a silken thread of moonlight
that the crone will soon spindle into her never-ending story
of billion constellations, both seen and unseen 
by naked, desperate novas.

We, entwined, like the roots under a rabid rainforest,
pale as innocence, battering feverishly against the stones for ever afters,
seize Avalon, and reject Camelot.
The canopy of fireflies synchronises in raw euphoria, 
a rebel Excalibur.

The wind matures around us.
Tomorrow may be an inevitable notion,
but my queen of Fairy Tale land,
my sword, shield, bow, toothbrush, unicorn,
a worn-out copy of The Arabian Nights,
all lay bare before your lion throne.

This world was once a crevice between fire and ice.
Fire and ice run in our veins,
from me to you and back into the realm of drunken fairies,
where the bumblebee heart of the day
is yet to ignite the pomegranate sky.





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Date: 17 / 02 / 2016


I Must Be Asleep

I must have fallen asleep
 somewhere in the fifties, sixties, and seventies as well.
My father fought the War to end all wars
 it didn't and he rarely spoke of it again.
Joe went off to the Korean War,
 never did come home, and I missed his young heart.
We were high school  sweethearts
 proud of country, in love, willing to give all,spurred by our parents sacrifice,
 he did.
George and I were a little smarter, so we thought,
 in later years we questioned everything;
 still, he went off with the Vietnam draft reluctantly.
He came home quietly, out of uniform, ashamed and unassuming
 with fingers pointing from every direction for what seemed an eternity.
We skipped Woodstock, sang and danced with Seeger, 
 wondering where all the flowers had gone;
 and Peter, Paul and Mary, and others I don't recall
 and marched with King and the Kennedys religiously until Camelot was gone.
History says it was a dream, an unreality,
 we were a generation of drugs, sex and rock and roll,
 but look at all we changed.
Strange,
 I don't remember it that way
 it seemed to being getting so much better, 
 what happened during the in between,
 am I awake and still in the dream
 waiting for the changes to take hold again?
I must still be asleep.

Generation X or Y or Q
, now it's up to you.
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Poets' Creed - We Are Building Castles In the Sky

We are building castles in the sky
with expectations higher than high!
Those gray clouds above have got to go.
We only choose to see a rainbow.

We’ll have our Camelot before we die.
We are building castles in the sky.
Don’t tell us this is just a crazy dream.
Love’s strength is like the stars above that gleam.

Radiating joy, we are beams of sun.
Happiness we extend to everyone.
We are building castles in the sky.
Join with us; the time of peace is nigh.

We are visionaries and we see
with eyes of magic. We are Poetry.
Imagine it! Free your mind and fly!
We are building castles in the sky.

Written Dec. 24, 2016 
Inspired by Steven Henderson's  Poetry Contest: Building Castles in the Sky 

With a nod to the songs of an era of peace and love: Lennon’s "Imagine", Beatles’ "Here Comes the Sun", Oliver’s "Good Morning Starshine", Louie Armstrong’s "What a Wonderful World", 5th Dimension’s "Aquarius/Let the Sun Shine In", Jackie DaShannon’s "What the World Needs Now", as well as Olivia Newton-John’s "Magic" and the classic oldie" Somewhere Over the Rainbow."
Form: Quatern

Premium Member In My Dreams

In my own quiet bedroom,
In my own comfy bed,
Every night I escape from reality.
I give wings to my fancy
When the pillow hits my head,
And my dreams are like a movie that's starring me.

I'm Aladdin glidin' on a magic carpet,
And the djinn has ditched his lamp and hitched a ride.
The flying's great to get my kicks with,
But no good to pick up chicks with,
With a big blue bilious genie at my side.

I'm a knight from Camelot in shining armor,
Dueling dragons, saving princesses from doom.
What should be mine as recompense
I must decline and hie me hence,
The rules of chivalry are strict, no wiggle room.

I'm Columbus on that fateful expedition,
By sailing west we'll reach the East, least that's the plan.
While cruising 'round the Caribbean
Searching for a port to pee in,
We find, not India, but a new uncharted land.

I'm big brave bwana on an African safari,
Trapping savage cats because that's what I know.
As soon as we have made eye contact,
They're signed up and under contract
Then off to Vegas for my Circus Circus show.

I never know what's going to happen
When I lay me down to sleep,
It might give a less intrepid person hives.
I'm sure it's pure imagination,
Or maybe it's reincarnation,
And I've done those things before in former lives.

But whether Charlemagne or Sinbad,
Peter, Robin, Roy, or Fred*,
Or somebody else from myth or history,
In my dreams when I slumber
In my own Sleep Number bed,
I can be what, where, whomever I want to be.
But in the morning when I wake up
I'm so glad to be back home
Because it's really not so bad just being me.

*Peter (Pan); Robin (Hood); Roy (Rogers); Fred (Astaire)

Festival Performer

What breed is this?

Sage or Lunatic, 
Chess-Piece or Bard.
Do they see silver in the bloodstream, 
hearts pumping hard.
Turning lead to gold.
Re-frabricating a life lived hard.

Pieces of eight, to pay for a life of piracy?
Or innocense stolen, seeking equilibrium and sanity?
Do they have knowledge to pass on, 
an altruism
of animal, magnetism, 
a charged badge of honor, crested in heart, 
emboldened home-sheath, sleeve to cry, 
then hone your metal upon.

What propels them on?
Is it the real Olympus, clear,_- Mountain Dew?
Atlantis estranged in Camelot, pouring rivers by the light of the moon?

What propels, 
which witch is the spark?
Is it one of Union and Love.
Or did they lose the game 
and menace for vengeant troves, of the dark.
Do they Familiar the con of silver, 
alchemy, 
mesmerism for the greedy?

I want to believe they are rivulets caroming 
among the needy.
So I wonder.
Do they speak in a different tongue?
One that reaches out like a serpent, 
feeling for the vermilion colored heat under the Son.

It is true, one is the saddest thing.

Reach out, it is the Festival Season
starring a Carnival of Souls.
Stars, not so far out.
North shining to a ship of fools.
Saints and Angels, 
under the sleeve of the Triune One.
Of this I have no doubt.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member House

"Home isn’t where you are from, it is where 
   you find light when all grows dark."  ~  Pierce Brown
                

I once lived in a happy home, overflowing with love,
but when I was given cause to leave, it became a house.
I've moved on and so has he. I've found contentment.
In a sanctuary I reside, complacent without a spouse.

I'm not hiding away as a recluse would from the world,
nor do I flounder in an ocean of tears, fearing to drown.
I never complain of being alone, nor am I ever lonely.
My once-upon-a-time home is gone; Camelot fell down.

In my new home, I feel protected from Cupid's arrows.
No longer am I a target for the imp's misguided dart
The last one left a scar that thoughts keep from healing.
Since I've moved, I've stitched the open slits in my heart.

Walls keep intruders out, but I don't live in seclusion.
I have many friends, so don't ever think of me as 'glum.'
My house is a haven where only the invited come inside
I don't hide my heartstrings, but I choose who can strum.

My dwelling is not of brick and mortar, nor cast in stone.
I've not become cold natured, heart hardened as a beast,
but I will never offer myself again upon a banquet table
unless I'm the one who willingly opens my door for a feast.

A house can have a hundred rooms, no locks on its doors,
plush furniture, Persian rugs on the floor, and fine dishes,
but it will never be a happy home to those who live inside
unless it's nurtured with love, not with dreams and wishes.
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Fading Alchemy

Verse I

Lots of things have changed lately: if feelings
change, so do emotions with their heartbeats;
you have been calling every single shot,
and took advantage of this poor Camelot!

Chorus: 
Is a person still powerful and cruel with fading alchemy...
performing another spell on me without any certainty?

Verse II

You must have the soul of a heartless Brute
to stab me twice and let me slowly die;
is there any way to settle this dispute:
that deceptive truth has become atrocity! 

Chorus:

Is a person still powerful and cruel with fading alchemy...
performing another spell on me without any certainty?

I stand in this corner silently, 
letting you take the lead and suffer;
there's a lot of pleasure from your devilish words, 
when I rebel you hit me hard with revengeful looks,
and as strong as I am, I never dare 
to get even knowing that's too insanity;  
I wait for an open window to breathe air
and plan an escape from this nightmare!

Chorus:

Is a person still powerful and cruel with fading alchemy...
performing another spell on me without any certainty?

Verse III

Your days of cruelty and vengeance are finally over,
you have surrendered and begged for forgiveness;
I have the chance to call all the shots and make you pay.
Was I that crazy to do some awful and insane things, 
it wouldn't make me human, only boost my ego of anger;
we have the same faults: we need to get rid of hostility!
Form: Lyric

Premium Member Presidential History Reprise Surprise

George Washington chopped down a tree as a lad
   Then told his dad that he'd been bad

With the stroke of a pen, Thomas Jefferson kick-started a nation
   Touting revolution every so often with his Declaration

Andrew Jackson had a penchant for whiskey  
   Native Americans found him way too frisky

Abraham Lincoln was thin but brave
   Reunited the nation and freed the slaves

As a child Teddy Roosevelt was always ill
   But as President he led the charge up San Juan Hill

His cousin Franklin took over in the Great Depression
   And then three times won reelection.  

JFK and Jackie ushered in 'Camelot'  
   'Til in a Dallas motorcade he was shot
 
Ronald Reagan demanded the Soviets end their stall,
   "Mr. Gorbachev, please, tear down that wall!"

Bill Clinton said, "It's the economy, Stupid!"
   Before he was cut down by Monica and Cupid

And now Mr. Trump draw lines in the sand
   Saying, "Let's make America great again!"

And did you know that Yankee Doodle preferred apple strudel
   To a leftover dish of cold, wet noodles?

Hope you've enjoyed this reprise of Presidential history
   Which to the majority of Americans is an absolute mystery


P.S.  Rumors have it that Yankee Doodle is considering a 
        comeback run for POTUS in the 2020 election.
        His slogan reportedly will be, "Make America
        handy with Yankee Doodle Dandy."  
        The "Me-too" movement has already
        dialed in death threats ...
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Stories That Were Sung

Stories that were sung .

Minstrels of old, once, did tell, stories 
in songs, we have come to know the glories 
of times long passed, of Guinevere, of Camelot, 
of the love of a brave, persistent knight, Sir Lancelot.
 
Minstrels of old, told us of Romeo and Juliet, 
figures of love, we know of, yet never met, 
except in the stories Minstrels told 
as they travelled many a road.

From town to town, to town 
they gave us songs of the renown, 
sung their song of the many ways of love, 
battles fought gallantly to raise the bar, far above.

B. J. “A” 2 ( Bill . ) 
April 12th 2014
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Poesy In Service of Strength -- January 20, 1961

Eight inches of snow saw no hat on his head
an act of derring-do, my father said,
   He ascended the steps
   the eyes of the world upon him
   An orator attacking the lectern
   ~ Camelot, out to shatter Babylon

The glare of the sun no match
for the glint in his eye
   Brisk winds no challenge
   to the stylish coif he held high.  

He measured the moment
took a deep breath
   Out came an aria
   ~ nary a shibboleth

Tall and straight, he stood
erect as a soldier
   firing words like bullets
   targeting the mind's heart, to pull it
      jabbing the air with his fist or his finger
      pausing ever so briefly
      ~ he let the message linger

He moved us, he touched us,
lifted a nation's heart
   without sham or deceit
   ~ only truth from his lips
      did ever depart

He proposed the Peace Corps
to inspire the young--
   For those older and wiser
   he combined graciousness
   with toughness
   in a diplomatic
   sharp-edged tongue

To Nikita Krushchev, the Soviet,
baring his claws,
   Our leader's barbed-wire message
   surely gave pause:
      "Let us remember...
       ...sincerity is always subject to proof
       Let us never negotiate out of fear.
       But let us never fear to negotiate."

And to all 180 million Americans watching
in person or on the tube
~ He issued this challenge 
   destiny ringing, resonant rendezvous:
      "Ask not what your country can do for you
       ask what you can do for your country."

It's now 55 years later
and America's not seen
   a President like Kennedy
   ~ to inspire us to dream
Form: Rhyme

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