Long Fealty Poems
Long Fealty Poems. Below are the most popular long Fealty by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fealty poems by poem length and keyword.
It was a testosterone driven affair
On that very first meeting night
Of the oppressed husbands club.
They wanted everything just right.
The founder didn’t attend.
His spouse sent a note.
The excuse only being accepted
By a tense and very close vote.
Officers being elected,
The event got under way;
Such a special occasion,
That strike for freedom day.
You could hear the rebellious tones
Rising as the pints went surely down
Heaven help the public when these
Brave souls were loosed on the town.
When the door creaked slowly open
You could cut the silence with a knife
Then the chairman sadly had to leave
Having been fetched by his wife.
But he didn’t go easily,
Having made his stand,
By very slowly draining
The pint held in his hand.
They stood there in respect
Followed by loud applause
As with a certain dignity
He was pulled out through the doors.
Oh it was a testosterone driven affair
Only slightly spoiled by the fear
As that first night progressed
And leaving time drew near.
There were pledges of fealty
And a final rallying shout,
And all promised to return
If their wives would let them out
In ye old days of yore on Malaga's dreary shore
An untidy castle rimmed by salty moor
Housed a lonely, oft-drunk matador
In briny marsh grazed no sheep, but wild pigs three score
Staggering oft around soggy, muddy estate in boozed, dazed state; prating conquistador
With fitted bed sheet he dodged each, wild, voracious boar
On one fateful eve a rabid boar did his flabby posterior gore
Now ambitions stored, bedded his dreams, salved his sore
'Til one morn, a damsel in distress swooned at his door
Bereft of virility, but saddled with tales of chivalric lore
A hearty tonic the prone maiden he did pore, and spouted tawdry tales galore
Unentranced by availing circumstance, his rambling advances she did ignore
Intoxicated by her lovely essence, her father's residence did implore
Confounded by his incessant inebriating pleas, she fell to the floor
Mistaking her bended knee as fealty to be, he let out a drunken roar
Enraged by his licentious intentions, she yelled, I will not take any more
Mind numbed from numerous droughts, he heard, I am your whore
Giddy, his infertile, limp shaft tried into her sweet mound to bore
But his drooping shaft could not breach her silty core
Frustrated the horny goad reversed positions. riding her till both were saddlesore
Finally breaching the chasm, his spent rod found reeling a chore
But her tapped well gushed and she yelled encore
Now understanding his riding days were over, he cried and swore
His ripening virgin unsatiated bade his pallid pilot her canyon explore
Now contrite, he explained fertile streams no longer from stagnant fount could pore
Giving due penance, purged the dross, and from her steamy vat tore
Forevermore an unfit paramour, jilted matador; who no longer his tainted cape wore
Quiet, the leaves drip from slender woody fingertips
as shadows cast spectral dreams that breath through misty lips.
In the deep the Sylvan rests against the hoary staff he grips
and feels the ancient magic flow between the rune filled tips.
Taken from a Willow tree on summer moon's eclipse
from gnarled knots, the life it gives, his body freely sips.
Across a knoll he slowly strolls like honey as it drips
as hungrily he eats a fruit and buries all the pips.
From which will grow new tender shoots and supple grassy whips
offering once more to him the sustenance he snips.
The world he knows mysterious and old, his life but an ellipse,
going round and round he trod the ground on his lonely trips.
When he meets the Mountain Lions he bows from bended hips
to show respect and fealty for their regal mien and kingships.
And too, the venerable and stately Oak respectfully he dips,
but as old friends, they laugh and smile with jokes and clever quips.
Evening comes through tired eyes as through the sky the sun rips
tearing through to rainbow hues in brushed on colored strips.
As the night exudes from day, the dark oozes like chocolate dips
in which the fairy, sylph and sprite flies, sings and skips.
But, at the end of each sullen day beneath sweet buds he slips
Folded in their tranquility and ever loving friendships.
05/15/2016
Maybe I'm pathetic
as I heel by your door
waiting for more
knowing there's not much
of anything in store.
But I would wait for you
forever and a day
I can't take a hint
I'm just not clever
that way.
If I was a millionaire
I buy you the moon
so it could
shine up in the sky
Just for you.
But I don't have that much
I do the best I can do
I wish you would see
my love Is a gift
that I offer to you.
I wish you were a genie
because I have a wish.
I wish my love was
valuable to you.
like a priceless jewel
but I'm afraid
I'm just a fool.
I love you more
than I can express
and I know
that at times I'm a mess
but when you talk to me
I feel blessed.
So please
never give up on me
as I pledge
my fealty to you.
If I lost you
I don't know what I do.
Courtesy of one or more tradesmen,
first Monday in September set aside
for employees able, eager, ready
and willing to acquire money
to marry groom or bride
climb the corporate ladder or
become an artisan, entrepreneur, technician
to side step getting rung, drafted
like an oxen plow, commandeered and chide
by management as insubordinate
till retirement or join kiln fields once died
from over exertion, yet nonetheless
sweat of brow efforts praised I espied
searching me noggin brief history re:
aforesaid day, where barbecues fried
dispersed aromas recognizing efforts
of workers with quality control as guide
grievances against danger challenged
sense and sensibility stalwart did not hide
the shenanigans that took place inside
boardrooms in tandem with glories of
American made products from those
who put figurative nose to grindstone –
just common everyday Jane's and Joe’s
who weathered extreme temperatures,
whereby bodies froze
but thanks to those who battled elements
at large and snatched doze
birth of brute efforts eventually
earned reserved renowned
borne couple shy of
nineteenth century, whence sound
of industrial silence replaced with
parades where hoof beats did pound
burgeoning and bustling city streets
echoed along hardened ground
fealty to country soldered
with faith, federation union freedom
and job security did thence abound,
which holiday underwent
transformations as bustle
and hustle proved myth regarding
land of milk and honey –
from straining of muscle
whereby life, liberty and pursuit
of happiness less of physical tussle
set (thank you Masons and Dixons)
cornerstone to an invisible
complex edifice originally from New York
forgotten builders, farmers, machinists,
et cetera who laid groundwork
wrought by destruction
from Civil War largesse and pork
loosed from the bottle in
Antebellum South, when off flew cork
freeing a genie, which became rendered
supremely courtly poet, i.e. this former dork.
And he said, "Have you ever felt so empty...?"
I replied,
"Son, have you never felt the Sun on your back? Or are you darkness itself? I owe no fealty to you, you lonesome coward! My sins are mine, as yours are yours, so tend your own flame. Kindle it with love and compassion my friend." To this day, I still haven't forgotten his following words. "I'm cursed you see, my touch is cruel, and my words are like knives, always stabbing at the impossible, and my soul rots of despair."
Before i could utter a word, or calculate a response he continued to say, "Can you not taste the colour of my putrid soul?"
So i said unto him... "I only see a bright light in front of me, and a soft-spoken voice is what I hear, where could such a beautiful soul ever hear such vulgarity?"
"Is there not beauty in the darkness...?"
In the beginning ...," roosts;
Christians and Jewish boosts.
Hubs stretched out their ellipsed
rung, un-Earth cures eclipsed
space; science clues darkling,
emerging as sparkling.
Up and down, primordial
chains--retards cordial.
Time slot checking briefly
when brain cells claim chiefly.
Focused an analyst
review a panelist,
truth and not devious;
now, post-, and previous.
Be of good health, nourish,
mindful, and to flourish
together ... we harness
our outreached true farness.
Constants are the scatheful,
equaled by the faithful ...
life marks trails that puncture
time cross-over juncture.
Naysayers, "That's crackpot!"
Truth smiles at the jackpot
as hopes, a bit mournful
of those fiercely scornful
Truth be told--mortified,
unseat those fortified,
advent-relegating
actions delegating,
doting are distinguished
evil hailed extinguished,
sage passage dutiful,
heart imparts beautiful.
Gauging your fealty
accents self-realty ...
descension diminished;
exalted goals finished.
Daily scriptures strengthen,
understanding lengthen
all regenerated
by the venerated.
A righteous behavior,
prophets teach, a savior ...
of a lost lamb was--not,
for The Shepherd does--not,
hence, Heaven will cherish,
hell reroutes won't perish,
reborn renews brilliance,
transforming resilience.
Tinted stars on flatter screens
suave images do hype
Black & White visages from
nostalgic era still archetype
Touched-up photos the ideal
caricature to swipe
Still Life portraits from
Renaissance remain heartfelt
prototype
Gratuitous mavericks, in
manicured uniforms with
stenciled bats, freely gripe
Talented shills in baggy pants
with suborned fealty flailed the
wooden pipe
Poltroons in front of polished
syndicate, with lofty promises
alter egos fight
Festooned pols with burnished
principles at the graven stump
unite
Educated shoppers browse
structured bins with
genetically-modified produce
tainted with chemical wipe
Third generation farmers in
Roaring 20's preen nature's
blight, then pick, sale organic
produce wholsomely ripe
Leftism is decay,
stagnation and decline,
parasites out draining
dynamic, useful minds.
They’re never out creating,
just wait ‘till someone does,
latch on like a deer tick
infecting while they suck.
Until our creators,
who drive economy,
throw up their hands in rage,
because they plainly see
that it’s not worth the effort
putting in time and stress,
to loose it all in taxes,
to men who define worthless.
Multiply this widespread
and the engine of mankind
slows down into nothing,
no products or jobs to find.
Society unravels,
the people can’t find work,
can’t take care of themselves,
until everyone hurts,
then comes the money printing,
the welfare and the dole,
they’ve taken your future,
but they still want your soul,
making you dependent
on the crumbs they give you,
in exchange for fealty,
denying you the truth:
That they created all this,
on the hard-working they fed,
you’ve no job because they killed
the goose laying golden eggs.
They’d rather more folk suffer,
sink into poverty,
they’d rather rule the ruin,
then live with people free,
because the lust for power,
the status illusion,
is what they can’t live without,
even if all is undone.
Leftism is evil,
uses the jealous and weak,
to feed power-hungry,
pedophiles and creeps.
Jack and Jill went up the hill
Not on a whim but petty frill
Jack led Jill to a corroded still
Jill thought the vat was an abandoned grill
Jack promised Jill a fresh thrill
Jack cooked up a brew to blanch her chill
Jack took a sip but Jill had her fill
Jack pledging fealty on one knee did kneel
Jill fearing that Jack was ill
Threw him prone on a nearby anthill
When the stings reached his hardened quill
Jack jumped up and let out a squeal
Jill dazed from her purse pulled a Viagra pill
Through Jack's clamped lips it's contents did drill
Now horny and burning, Jack rode Jill bareback down the hill