Long Goblets Poems
Long Goblets Poems. Below are the most popular long Goblets by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Goblets poems by poem length and keyword.
Visit official historical homes;
See where a president slept.
Wander the rooms where he breathed and he ate;
Marvel at all that's been kept:
Diaries, writing desks, clothing and clocks;
Dishes and goblets and swords.
Hairbrushes, mirrors and hundreds of books;
Frames holding lots of awards.
Pots and utensils employed by the cooks;
Furniture purchased in France.
Gardens all blooming with thousands of bulbs;
Slippers once worn at a dance.
All the minutiae of living condensed
And polished for us on display.
We can imagine how life used to be
When it is presented this way.
Names that we learned in a history book
Suddenly spring forth to life.
Here is the chair where the president sat;
There is the gown of his wife.
Trolling the past doesn't need to be dry.
Jump in the car - take a drive.
A trip to a battlefield, bunker or home
Can make history feel so alive.
I once lived in high Montana
and I knew a man who live there,
went by the name Rodrigo,
known to most for his wild hair.
But Roddy didn’t grow it long
to try and impress some girl,
Roddy was a history nut,
obsessed with the medieval world.
He had all sorts of goblets,
tankards, and great drinking horns,
he must’ve owned a dozen swords,
but was always buying more.
Roddy owned full chain-mail armor,
wore it to the renaissance fair,
and he paid no heed to the folks
who would shake their heads and stare.
But Roddy’s greatest possession
was one he built with his own hands,
Roddy had a full-sized catapult
and would launch stuff across his land.
One day I went to see my friend
and he was launching things out back.
He said,”Get me that watermelon,
and we’ll launch our next ‘attack.’”
We loaded up the giant fruit,
and laughed as it took to flight,
said he,”If launching fruit be wrong
then to hell with being right!”
Next we took a bunch of apples
to achieve a shot-gun effect.
I cracked a joke and Roddy laughed,
so hard we didn’t see what came next.
A black bear in the woods nearby
saw the apples in their pile,
and wouldn’t find a meal that good
if he wandered a dozen miles.
He ran out onto the scoop
while we were both still laughing,
Roddy pulled the lever, unaware,
and he sent the bear a-flying!
The bruin’s moan caught us both
as apple and bear too to sky,
across the field to lodgepole trees
did the beast and his lunch fly.
He disappeared in the branches,
vanishing from our line of sight,
I stood stunned, said to Roddy,
“Should we go see if it’s allright?”
Roddy shrugged and started walking,
we both made our way over there,
high up in an old lodgepole pine
sprawled a frightened, confused bear.
The branches had broken the fall,
saved the beast from being dead,
I said to Roddy,”We should go
before that bear can clear its head.”
Roddy took a picture on his phone
to prove what had happened that day,
then we beat a hasty retreat
before the bear could come our way.
To this day Roddy still recounts,
in his booth at renaissance fairs,
how catapults can launch anything,
even hungry and wayward bears.
"Youth being the best time in life, don't squander it on trifles"~ By Poet
The gift of youth is a wondrous thing
Before aches and pains the onset of age bring,
Feast on the glories, God has served
In goblets filled for man to be craved.
Hey youngster, where do you scurry?
Why are you in such frivolous hurry?
Slow down your pace to look around
And enjoy the marvels that surround.
Aimless you wander far and wide
And seldom bother to look inside.
Ever be content with what you have
Though denied much of what you crave.
A glow of warmth when borne on your face
Adds so much more to your innate grace
So light up your face with radiant smiles
And let your laughter ring down the aisles.
Rejoice in Life and Nature’s bounteous source
Never let passing trifles be your course
Humble yourself and kneel down to pray
For it is God who shows us the way
I sit by the window motionless
Looking at the sky getting darker
Inside me a sea swells, tides of memories
Beat my heart, the only keepsake I have
Like a thick shelled oyster, tightly spliced
You sealed your heart to me barring entry
Now all I do is flirting with my demons
Wonder what currents flow through your sinews?
And what eddies churn and gyrate within?
Do the thoughts of our love linger there?
Does my image, to your memory ever return?
Do you recall how we stood silent beneath the stars?
How we then built an epoch in a glance!
Once life moved with lilting measure
From goblets, we quaffed the bubbling liquid
Everyday a new song was thrummed upon life’s harp
What passion, what youth, what thrill we shared then
We so loved as no one had ever loved
Like a phantom I followed you behind
At unexpected times, on my mind's wall
You scrawled the graffiti of butterflies
To you alone my heart, as offering I gave
Never suspected any force would tear us apart
But how Fate waited swift to smite
And how we had to part in anguish
Toppling down the sand castles we built
Leaving a heap of debris behind
Will you once more open your heart?
Will I again find entry and nest within?
Will I be able to douse my smoldering pain?
Will you return with a promise of foreverness?
***Le Minuit Avec Vous***
The Midnight With You
To have a sensual repast with thee,
Upon a midnight, beneath our beloved
Oakwood tree!
Whenst the world, not a sound doth make.
Just lovers lips heard, smacking of
heavenly, baked earthen cakes.
Goblets, golden with jewels that doth
laugh and twinkle
This midnight repast we, sipping wine
so deliciously, swirl with our tongues.
Finding our bodies tingle.
We, the Romeo and Juliet of our day,
Unashamed to celebrate our lives in our
own private, hot foray.
Only celestial guests join us, the heavenly
moon and we...verily faint at the beauty of
our guests, the constellations.
Kissing unabashedly, in front of these guests.
Which human would have any reservations?
This very silent, intimate space on God's
firmament actually took place.
At midnight be, 'twas the blessed you and me,
Under the eyes of God and His most loving face!
July 10, 2020
6:30pm PST
Gallimaufry
Your sandals make a strange mixing sound,
As we step together down this shadowy path,
Past the innumerable tufts of sprygen weed,
Where old farmers once hoofed to the music
Of the Elkhorns, and the Spitters.
We will soon eat from their generous platters,
Abandoned in the ice houses south of Belchork.
Piled high with sugared meats and bitter olives.
We will sit in plush lacquered chairs there,
Chairs of sandlewood, and mystic topaz.
We will be staring into each other’s eyes,
Globular orbs of azure fascinations,
Seeking unspoken permission to stare yet more,
But as an encore, at a pair of different eyes.
We will embrace behind sheer curtains of lapis lazuli,
Inside the vestibule with lotioned legs dangling.
We will move in infinite slowness,
We will seek the absolute devotions,
Of the shadow dances there.
We will listen to the singing sirenic voices
Of the Elkhorns and the Spitters,
Beckoning us with their spiral gyrations,
As sparkling mineral water is shared in goblets,
Encrusted with peridot and citrin.
We will at last find profound discovery,
Concealed within their mad enticings.
Proceed quietly, shh! Your sandals are noisy,
As we step together down this shadowy path,
Past the ice houses at Belchork,
Our lives and our consenting atoms
Enmeshed and entwined forever, with
The innumerable tufts of sprygen weed.
You say it's almost over that's alright;
you say you've wounded your shoulder;
Trying to hold the night;
You're just a little bit older than most of them;
The Elderly soldiers of Methuselah ten;
Well it's alright
it's OK then
Your castings stones across the waters;
You're abandoning your sons, your daughters;
And when the minister is through;
You give him his dues
Cause it's alright
it's OK then
you fight a war of the battles you can't win
you jump into the pool to save someone and you can't even swim;
you run the race until your face droops think your having a stroke, man
And when the minister is through
They gonna bury you;
You give him his dues;
Cause it's alright
it's OK then
Better gather up those manna sandwiches
Pour the wine in clay goblets;
Make sure the more have less;
Any less and we'll be blessed;
after the wars battles are won
after your heart is healed, been born again;
after your mind, body, soul been cleansed;
Did I already say you've been born again
because after all your living is due;
After see your light no longer shines through
All you have left is legacy, Blessed. . . .
You've fought the battles won the test
Victory yours, your bound to heaven glory's rest..
Light now shines in eternity's crest.
Walking amongst Jesus, God and Angels;
The remains on earth said "God bless you"
And the minister is through
Service is over, burial too!
Well it's alright, it's OK now
OK
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.(c)2017
July 11 2017
couplets and goblets are not costly or fine
doublets and snubblets are simply mine.
words parade in my brain and do their back flip.
Adjectives and adverbs give me a tiny bit of jazzy lip.
there is a cadence to my poem today I see right away.
The prepositional phrases are on top, getting in everyone’s way.
What about the nouns? Are they doing anything exciting, poet?
You mean the circus, monkey, clown, and popsicle throwing a fit?
Yes, there is a zoo inside my poetic brain today for sure.
My muse is throwing out words like lollygag, and cow pie manure.
I roll my eyes as other words come sliding out as if in the sea….
Who is writing this stuff? I no longer feel my ideas are from me.
My muse is laughing her petootsie off, kicking her legs in the air.
Verbs like swirling, twirling and flicking give her their holiday stare.
I swear to the mythology gods who live in the clouds above,
Writing down words all day long is something I truly love.
In a never sleeping metropolis,
In the dungeon of a room,
My days and nights are locked!
I am a traveler on a street, with no end in sight,
But just the bustle of the moving crowd,
And a handful of burnt dreams for company
My ‘kingdom’ is in the third floor,
Of an old street building,
Now languishing in neglect,
Facing dilapidation,
Just like my own life,
In the chronic agony of existence!
While the adjacent buildings,
Renovated and restored
Mine, under a bankrupt landlord,
Is on the verge of instant collapse
Looking through the chinks in the wall
And craning my neck
Over barricades of buildings
Amid the swirl of traffic,
I get a glimpse of the slum below
In all its squalor and dirt,
And a medley of lousy images
Bleeding into one another like water colors.
Now and then, I see,
Beggars in bundled rags,
Along cracked pavements.
Some squatting,
Some sleeping away to glory,
With street dogs coming to share
The leftovers in their begging bowls
And lick their wounds!
Sometimes I take away my glance
From the dismembered corpses of the dead!
On another side,
In plush residential colonies,
With landscaped courtyards,
And cerulean swimming pools,
Sentries stand on guard
To admit 'Sahibs'
Sliding in Mercedes and Rolls Royce!
A little far, in the open balconies
Of star hotels,
Men toast goblets of wine!
Oh! What stark divide!
This grave imbalance is so contemptible.
Woe to the society where there is widespread anomie!
~
My thirst now deep ~ I long to quench
to sip this periwinkle wine
In goblets cut of harvest moons
impassioned pleas now cast of time
Tender kisses ~ sonnets placed
on fevered lips near rainbow streams
In golden castles made of sand
I've knelt beside you in my dreams
As whispered winds ~ I've called to you
before the dew of morning beads
and sunlight forms the northern star,
in measured breaths of tempted needs
In rustled leaves ~ I've heard your voice
beneath the dark where crickets play
That echoed through my aching heart
harmonic to the light of day
From mountain top ~ my vision soars
‘cross fertile valleys emerald green
In search of perfect precious love
amidst this beauty I have seen
Beyond the shades ~ of here and now
I've felt your breath beneath my skin
I've tasted sweet your tender smile
and felt the longing deep within
For in this mist ~ of moistened glow
the heart reflects on distant wing
In melodies of long ago,
desires silent evenings bring
With opal stars ~ I write your name
in shimmered streaks across the night
Where darkened velvet curtains fall
on windswept dreams of sweet delight
And now we stand ~ together pure
a' glow this jasmine moon above
Two fires of a single flame
among the rhyme of written love
Wishes fly ~ on silver whims
far beyond each silent cloud
As evening finds us lost again
in precious love forever vowed
~