Long Damsels in distress Poems
Long Damsels in distress Poems. Below are the most popular long Damsels in distress by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Damsels in distress poems by poem length and keyword.
Climb those many stairs, up to the stars.
“Cut!” Comes the child, the wee Pinkerton.
Stunt double, doubles down, with plethora of scars.
Fate is what it is, bumps, bruises...sorta fun.
Pinkerton rolls and bounces, ooches and ouches.
Then they call in the fingering ‘stache, for he smooths
the luscious hairs of his handlebar, never slouches.
Divine with his hands too, damsels-in-distress, he soothes.
Pinkerton pastes on his pastel beard, and breaks out
into a minor character. “Cut! Stunt dou—ble!”
The ‘Stache rips doppelgänger’s facial hair as Pinkerton shouts,
opens mouth, “Hey! Hey! That really hurt!” Now he’s in trouble.
Pinkerton pouts as he takes his final walk into the night.
Rubs his eyes as a werewolf runs by ready to attack.
Those mischievous stars yell, “Cut! Stunt double, fight!”
Alarmed, Pinkerton needs to know who has his back.
A werewolf snarls and twirls his whiskers with a pinky.
Suspicious and brave, the kid gives him a karate chop.
Pinkerton unzips the stinker from bottom to top.
Found out, ‘Stache grabs his blanket and binky.
11/3/2020
Come, and lay here, on this soft grassy hill
hear stories I'll tell from yesteryear
the sun is setting... the air calm and fair
though a gentle breeze can caress your hair
listen, my dear, about the dragons you fear
allow your ears to be aware of the stories I bring
of Damsels in distress, of Knights and their King
lay your head down on the grass to listen
I'll brush the hair away from eyes that glisten
so they may stay open as each story unfolds
of ladies in love with their Knights so bold
once upon a time... there was a maiden on a hill
with light in her eyes... she lays without fear
wanting to hear stories about yesteryear
5/17/18
... Among the shadows of the groaning elms,
amid the darkening oaks, we fled ourselves ...
... Once there were paths that led to coracles
that clung to piers like loosening barnacles ...
... where we cannot return, because we lost
the pebbles and the playthings, and the moss ...
... hangs weeping gently downward, maidens’ hair
who never were enchanted, and the stairs ...
... that led up to the Fortress in the trees
will not support our weight, but on our knees ...
... we still might fit inside those splendid hours
of damsels in distress, of rustic towers ...
... of voices heard in wolves’ tormented howls
that died, and live in dreams’ soft, windy vowels ...
Originally published by Sonnet Scroll
Redemption Knight
He rode the wind on mighty steed
He drove it fast to gain more speed
To win the maiden: noble deed
As he galloped in the night…
He found his damsel in distress
With dragon claws clutching her dress
Disheveled hair and heart astress
As he galloped within sight…
One swift leap and he came aground
His rebel yell a mighty sound
Courage to fight in her he found
As he strode into her plight…
She gazed at eyes of azure blue
A depth of love she never knew
For handsome knight so brave and true
As she held on with her might…
He sunk he sword in to the hilt
Dragon heart blood to ground was spilt
Caught the damsel about to wilt
As his valor set things right…
In his strong arms she found her place
She gazed into his angel face
Between their bodies not a space
As the night was tinged with light…
He bowed his head to plant a kiss
A song of love, no dragon hiss
Her world now filled with utter bliss
As to heaven they took flight….
For Isaiah Zerbest Medaeval contest
August 3, 2013
2nd place win
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Knights are Dead
The knights in shining armor have all died
the damsels in distress are left...distressed
what once was chivalry and manly pride
by silence in the fight is now expressed
Where are the men who knew the right from wrong
who'd come to save a weaker one from pain
perhaps they have forgotten to be strong
their pleasure and their peace they want to gain
And so they leave the wounded in the field
Endeavoring to find what brings delight
forgotten are the ones they were to shield
They leave them there to suffer through the night
You were a knight, but that you are no more
those days are gone, they only live in lore
Eileen Manassian
Courtly days of knights so gallant,
And demure damsels in distress;
Hearken ye to this admiring descant,
Of chivalry and sheer noblesse.
Nights of satin and days of adventure,
Of heroes and villains vile,
Of windborne blossoms, dark allure,
Which made the ladies blush and smile.
Dangerous and many an escapade
Helped to guard the palace walls;
For love, for honor, men met blade.
Celebrations in the banquet halls.
Nights of romance and of mystery,
Which held a strange power!
As does a haunting symphony;
Rescued princess from the Ivory Tower!
Early, early, my little red rooster,
Thou shalt greet the new dawn;
Give the day a little booster,
For the knights of chivalry are gone!
At this very moment coolies screamed, ‘train',
We scampered packing up our bags and bales,
A long-awaited train’s a certain bane,
But this one turned a boon, such were the tales,
An English gentleman hailed our hero
From his carriage and we parted to go
Our diverse ways—to our cattle-class seat,
There was no chance to know who that man was,
Nor yet more light on his tale could be lit,
Indeed, never-ending may prove some pause.
Some truths, some lies of life lie ever so,
Maybe, he took us as credulous fools,
A painful nerve and anxious seldom cools,
Some truths and lies born are never to know,
Perchance the man minted fun at our cost,
And damsels in distress lay buried, lost.
_____________________________________________
Narrative |01.04.2024|
Note: A poetic translation of Rabindranath Tagore’s story in Bengali: Kshudhaarto Paashaana, divided in I to XIV parts, largely in blank verse that lapses into rhymes along with its twists and turns. The story is known to have happened during Tagore’s stay at Shaahibaug palace in Ahmadabad, the nearby river Sabarmati becoming river Suista in the story.
They starved our bodies of love
Then complain how our bones shake in fear
They strip us of our dignity
Then glare at us when we jave nothing to wear
They take our souls
Then question when they hear our screams in their dreams
It's why when the wind fills their ears
It sparks chills
And the echoes of our pleas
Picturing us on our knees
Begging them to let us breathe
They say we are too loud
Without us making a sound
The pain of our indifference
Strips them of victory
Their anger blinds their eyes
That watch us die
As they put us in the ground
To hide the blood on their hands
They feed the soil with our blood
Drowning us
Taunting us
Even after murdering us
So that when a flower buds
They hope the new life distracts
From what they did to us
So they erase us from the history books
And replacing it with a distorted version of
A false reality
In which they 'claim' black people are the aggressors
Whilst they are the victims
Then claim the trope of being damsels in distress
They cloak us in violence
Claim we lurk in the shadows
To hide us being vampires
Preying on the innocent
To drain their blood of all its substance
But then hide the facts of the truth
That we stay in the shadows
Because it conceals our blackness
A safe place to be invisible
From them the monsters
Who routinely hunt us
Blinded by their ignorance
Clouded by their insecurities
This a story they'll try to distort us
And if you don't believe us
Then listen to the winds whispers
That has been here since the first humans
That the real victims
Were black people victim to the lies of the racists
The knights in shining armor have all died
the damsels in distress are left...distressed
what once was chivalry and manly pride
by silence in the fight is now expressed
Where are the men who knew the right from wrong
who'd come to save a weaker one from pain
perhaps they have forgotten to be strong
their pleasure and their peace they want to gain
And so they leave the wounded in the field
Endeavoring to find what brings delight
forgotten are the ones they were to shield
They leave them there to suffer through the night
You were a knight, but that you are no more
those days are gone, they only live in lore
Eileen Manassian
The telly fed me the propaganda. Of princesses and princes.
Damsels in distress. Knights in shining armour. That was
Love. It was always a man and a woman; perfect, no flaws.
In spring, blackbirds sing outside my window;
Males calling the females. But one blackbird remains silent.
It watches me. It doesn’t sing for a mate like all the other
Spring lovers; it sits in the tree and waits.
I watch a programme where two men kiss. The blackbird
Tells me this is wrong. I ask it why. It doesn’t respond.
It follows me to school. I think another girl is pretty;
My heart flutters when our hands brush. The blackbird
Trills loudly. I never look at her again.
When I see someone reading a book where two girls are
In love, I point to the blackbird and tell her this is wrong.
She asks me why I think this. I say I don’t really know.
I kiss a girl. It s me up. They don’t do this on the telly;
That’s not how the story is supposed to go.
I try to ignore her after, but I struggle to pull my eyes away.
The blackbird sits outside the window and dares me.
I kiss her again. I don’t feel so ed up this time.
She says we should be together. I look to the blackbird,
Who doesn’t say a word, and say yes. Sometimes,
Princesses don’t need princes; just another princess.
That night, the blackbird sings again
But, this time, I finally understand what it says.
It says my life matters, despite what the telly shows.
She loved when he read her fairy tales…she’d sit upon his knees
and be amazed how so many fairy tales took place among the trees.
Fairy tales…alive with woes and heartaches…
with battles, and wishes granted,
with damsels in distress…
where every forest seemed enchanted.
And when they walked into the woods…she always felt it there
perhaps inspired by the fairy tales…something magic in the air.
She’d point them out when she spotted them
“Dad! Look another tree…
just like the ones in the fairy tales you always read to me”.
“Look how tall they are”, she smiled…”how they reach up to the sky
I wonder how many adventures they’ve seen…with their fairy tale eyes”.
For her birthday that year…she was given the best gift she would ever see
when she delicately unwrapped…a tray of tiny trees.
“It’s to start your own enchanted forest”, Dad said as he got down on one knee,
"where you can make up your very own stories among your very own fairy tale trees”.
Later…In her back yard as she looked down at the tray of trees just planted
“Dad”, she asked, "how long do you think before this forest becomes enchanted”?
Dad put his arm around his daughter and took her hand in his….
“Just like you on the day you were born”, he smiled,
“your forest…already is”.