Long Hilt Poems
Long Hilt Poems. Below are the most popular long Hilt by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hilt poems by poem length and keyword.
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
The bullfrog leads to a croaking sound.
Haunting the summertime downpour.
It's once entirely stumped in an emerald.
Streams with a distorted side outdoor.
My angling bar is imploring for my name.
Across the short zeniths and into a valley.
Squirrels adore a fabulous time romping tame.
Mother swamp frog lives in this vicinity.
The ground uncovers tardy deer tracks.
Thither they made a hilt break for breakfast.
Day Lily embraces me with a hello clack.
Orange toned sprinkled across the floor crust.
Crown spurs are conveyed by a blackberry.
Repeating calves cry someplace in the distance.
Falcons are swooping in to catch prey in the sea.
Spurring of the mountain's life excellence
Written: November 18, 2021
I'd prefer to relish smiling, big giggles,
Than muck about in worrisome fear-wiggles.
Joy is my veritable, beautiful twin sister.
Fear, just an obnoxious, mind twister.
I prefer to love life with unending passion.
Not chasing all day, an invible, viral assassin.
I refuse to wait in line for a fine, silver coffin,
Simply because recovery is very high, death rates
exaggerated, far too often.
I wish I could halt all the nonsensical propaganda.
That's as bizarre as me, becoming a Panda.
My song is~ to live life to the hilt, normally.
Thus ends today's fun homily!
May 28, 2020
7pm PST
Poem # 1303
With respect to digestion, we talk of two fates
The absorptive and post absorptive states.
Think of a meal as earning a wage.
You may use a bit but you’ll save some, if sage.
And the ratio is something you always must gauge.
It can certainly change as one does age.
Up to four hours after a meal
Before your insides are resting from their zeal
Insulin is governing lots of the chemistry
In your body’s energy registry.
It promotes glycogenesis, glycogen production
The storage of glucose, a major reduction.
Lipogenesis will also take place
After a meal at an increased pace.
And of course, protein synthesis also increases
As your body builds up new pieces.
But after four hours, post absorptive will dominate
And glucagon is the hormone that it will nominate.
It will cause the breakdown of things that were built
So that sources are available when you need them to the hilt.
It promotes glycogenolysis, the reverse of the above
Because now your blood glucose might need a shove.
Lipolysis, too, is also promoted
Proteolysis as well, just as devoted.
While insulin and glucagon both promote their actions
They also inhibit the other’s reactions.
When entering negotiations with a criminal mastermind
Who just happens to be a dictator, cruel and unkind
of a country with a long record of opposing freedom
and crushing opponents to death by choosing to bleed 'em
It behooves one to be ready, prepared to the hilt
To counter the fabrications of truth that are built
into the warp and the woof of his opponent's distortions
by which he evades capture through myriad contortions
Would you venture a guess that I'm talking 'bout Putin
Against whom the whole civilized world is rootin'
for seizing Georgia, Crimea and parts of Ukraine
(along with a nice chunk of three U.S. Presidents' brains)
I'll bet the farm and the farmhouse that Mr. Trump sees no peril
~ That in Helsinki, Putin left him cuckolded and sterile
She hid the pain behind a smile
as she walked slowly down the aisle.
Her doubts she struggled to restrain
behind a smile she hid the pain.
Their chosen song the organ played,
She looked divine in gold brocade
a veil to match trailing along.
The organ played their chosen song.
Of jasmine scent a whiff she caught
to mind a picture swiftly brought
a one-night stand in secret spent.
A whiff she caught of jasmine scent.
She felt impaled by sword of guilt
that entered deep down to the hilt.
No breaths of healing were inhaled.
By sword of guilt she felt impaled.
She needed time to clear her mind
erase the present, press rewind
bring back the lustre, wash the grime
to clear her mind she needed time.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The film’s on ‘pause’. My fingers itch
to watch the rest, flick on the switch…
Will it be tears or loud applause!!
My fingers itch. The film’s on ‘pause’.
-----------------------------------------
This poem has been published in a PoetrySoup Anthology:
“Reflections on the Important Things” Nov 2023 (print)
Swap Quatrain Contest
Hosted by Emile Pinet
Placed 4th
4th October, 2022
an average of 2,830 cubic meters
per second of rich silt
forms an alluvial plain
spreads outward in a fan shape
from sedimentary deposit whereby
ancient Egyptian civilizations got built
adorning arid topography invaluable
like aorta pumping blood at the nape
of the neck, yet analogous context
engendered engineering feats without guilt
whereby artisans, craftsmen,
early geographers illustrated in frieze and drape
frozen timeless statuary exhibiting
phenomenal abilities to the hilt
associated from mainspring within
fertile crescent swollen like a plump grape
which longest river often overflows
banks whereby coveted materiel gets spilt
feeding the rift valley and allowing,
enabling and providing peoples to dominate
flooding the history of mankind
with accomplishments that marvel even today
epitomized by innovations -
alphabets, wheelwrights, pyramids, etc lives did create
baffling historians how each mortise and tenon
snug as a bug in a rug mortise and tenon block
construed edifices persons did intricately lay
perfect with near geometric exactitude
ranks as wonder of webbed wide world great
faint hints of daily trials and tribulations
recorded for posterity in clay
or shards of broken pottery pieced togethe
coupling revelations a mosaic plate
which functional artifacts
provided dietary staples
to pagan spirits populace did pray.
I found a blade beside the rose,
its silver kissed by morning’s close;
It caught the sun as if to keep
the fire warm while earth still sleeps.
It did not stir when I drew near,
nor tremble with a hint of fear;
It seemed to watch, in patient grace,
the wind that touched its polished face.
A vine had curled around its hilt,
like memory round the things we’ve built;
And rain had carved, in tiny streams,
the stories only metal dreams.
I reached to lift it from the ground,
and heard a low, unshaken sound—
The whisper steel will sometimes say:
“My edge was honed for more than play.”
Yet still it let my fingers hold,
its weight both steady, warm, and cold;
And in that moment, I could see
the storm it was, the calm it’d be.
Have to admit.. do have a bit
Of a trenchant penchant
Alright adore southpaw purveyors
Dabbles..pique aroused..rabbles in the stands roused
Unique sleek cheek of their chic espoused
Bowlers...reduced to trollopes
Us seduced by players with not
Just a dash of flash panache
But hefty lefty dollops
Innings built by the lilt of lyrical levers which tilt to the hilt
Lush lullaby scores..lapping sandy shores with endless encores
Who’s get the ring or Tiara as
Greatest Caribbean queen ever been seen..
(sorry notions of one of Billy Ocean's top pop potions)
Most blessed and least stressed..every ball caressed and finessed
Also always impeccably dressed…the Calypso
Maestro…lothario…romeo…guru…Brian Charles Lara
First one since the Don to go so much bigger
Score..such vim on a whim…verve and vigour
Doing what only Bradman can but with
More touch..canny elan trigger than rigour
Frightening elite feet..like lightning
Remember in his pomp the 1994 romp
First class farce..501 not out rout..never been out done
Then in 2004.. did it once more..set the new top score
He’s Kane and Abel…top of the table fable for sure
All time prime sublime number one?
From the land of the other hand
Can anyone outgun or out ton?
Travesty to shun..majesty
Artistry of the Lara tapestry
What he brought to the sport
Memories never wane
Prince of the Port of Spain
“If you don’t tell the truth about yourself, you can’t tell it about other people”~ Virginia Woolf
'Say who am I'
is a great challenge hurled on me,
necessitating great introspection
and clarity of thoughts.
I am learning to find who I really am.
Though never perfect, am without serious flaws.
I wish to improve with each step,
as I know, if I’m not growing, I am dying.
I'm a poet,
and a true aspiring artist.
I try to be a beautiful person,
kind and compassionate.
More than anything, I am a sweet child of God.
A teacher from hilt to heel and proud to be so.
An erudite soul with vision,
A sculptor who sees an angel within a rock!