Long Jousting Poems
Long Jousting Poems. Below are the most popular long Jousting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jousting poems by poem length and keyword.
A mass of grey and rusted silver strewn
By the sky god from sifted appurtenances.
Preserve of ancients jousting with modernity,
Behind edifice a disperse of brimming slums
With piles, heaps of filth, debris, decay and stench;
Congestion and the jostle for ends and gains.
Benin endowed with neo wiles obviating tradition
And irked for now-now pleasure and wealth
Imitating and striving for wannabes
Inculcating habit and aspiring for a world without the sun
Yet far from assimilating it by the words of the old:
Carrot does not sprout in the root of a yam stalk.
Old city, once enliven by aestheticism
And renowned by the arts and crafts of bronze now
At the backdrop with every frontlines bedecked
By remnants of exotic necessaries. Men, vehicles rush,
Scramble and stream Ringroad and Ramat
From dawn to dusk to the abyss of nowhere
And returning home at last to the euphoric solace
Of the mellow hit of Waifo highlife
And the scores of green, brown bottles that thrive.
Benin, where once the Portuguese trespassed,
The Dutch men trampled and the British overturned
Leaving behind their long evening shadows
A new self-image chained in the heart.
Medieval times
A time of splendour
With gallant Knights
Ladies so slender
Jousting tournaments
The ladies all squeal
Exploding of hoofs
The clash of steel
Enter the Black Knight
To a round of jeers
The White Knight enters
To resounding cheers
First pass no foul
They try it once more
The Knight in White
Slumps to the floor
They carry him off
And tend to his wounds
A Blue Knight appears
The ladies all swoon
The maidens favourite
Known far and wide
Lord Richard of Leeds
His lance by his side
They ready for battle
Shields are in place
Masks of armour
Covering their face
Towards each other
They gallop full speed
Lances held high
The snorting of steeds
The Black Knight falls
The hero wins out
Blue Knight celebrates
Victory in the joust
Approaching the King
Horse and rider bow
The people go wild
Allegiance they vow
Medieval times
Hail to the King
Jousting tournaments
What glory they bring
Medieval times
A time of splendor
With gallant Knights
Ladies so slender
Jousting tournaments
The ladies all squeal
Exploding of hoofs
The clash of steel
Enter the Black Knight
To a round of jeers
The White Knight enters
To resounding cheers
First pass no foul
They try it once more
The Knight in White
Slumps to the floor
They carry him off
And tend to his wounds
A Blue Knight appears
The ladies all swoon
The maidens favorite
Known far and wide
Lord Richard of Leeds
His lance by his side
They ready for battle
Shields are in place
Masks of armor
Covering their face
Towards each other
They gallop full speed
Lances held high
The snorting of steeds
The Black Knight falls
The hero wins out
Blue Knight celebrates
Victory in the joust
Approaching the King
Horse and rider bow
The people go wild
Allegiance they vow
Medieval times
Hail to the King
Jousting tournaments
What glory they bring
Henry VIII's Last Joust
When darkness descends and all is bleak,
When the strong run and leave behind the weak.
Where, throughout the land, people cry for relief.
Who shall arise? What devil will compete?
Clothe me in armour and toast to merriment.
Fit my hand with the lance to tilt my opponent.
And to those in the stands, relax your apprehension.
(Stand back, squire!) This is beyond your comprehension.
Upon the steed, in a joust of peace, I challenged destiny
And would bravely sacrifice my life for God and country.
Down the list, I charged, but my horse stumbled and fell.
And they wept as for one dead, but I arose alive and well.
Let it be said when jest pervades memory of the King,
“He had grit, but maybe a little touched in the noggin!”
***
Note:
Henry VIII was born Henry Tudor on June 28, 1491, and died on January 28, 1547, at the age of 55. On April 22, 1509, he was crowned King of England, and reigned until his death in 1547. Henry VIII was athletic; standing at six foot and being an accomplished jouster.
On January 24, 1536, at Greenwich Palace, aka “Palace of Placentia” (located in Greenwich, England on the River Thames), forty-four-year-old Henry VIII participated in what would become his last joust. As the steed charged down the list with him at the reins, it stumbled, and fell upon him. Henry VIII lay unconscious for two hours but survived. The injuries received from the accident are believed to be the major reason for Henry VIII’s ensuing mood swings and violent temperament.
Jousting was known as the sport of kings. Two types of jousting matches were engaged in tournament jousting during the medieval ages, joust of war and joust of peace. In a joust of war, a solid, pointed lance was used to knock your opponent off their horse, and in a joust of peace, hollow lances with blunt style tips were employed, meant to shatter upon striking the opponent thereby reducing injuries.
Oh broom I could not do without
With so many uses more than clean a room
Lacking praise for versatility no doubt
Here is my ode to you, wonderful broom
When tidying needs to be a bit more fun
You are the tall microphone I sing with
Covered in scarves so many more than one
I sweep while rocking out like Aerosmith
Sweepin’ on the edge and broomie’s got a gun
You heard I clean in leather pants? That’s a myth….
Not only does the floor get clean as a whistle
You are the ultimate ceiling spider killer
(Except when they stay alive in your bristle)
The aftermath of that is a real spine chiller…
Far under the sofa you salvage lost toys
My dog sniffing and waiting not so patiently
Bum in the air hoping for the lost squeaking noise
Plus, in times of pretend jousting don’t you see
We beat that toilet plunger (life’s little joy’s)
Charging around you’re a perfect sword for me
When I forget to go and put you away
You’re a bridge to that eye-rolling joke we share
To mock your friends, point at you, laugh and say
“I see you parked your ride over there!”
A partner for dancing away gloom
While getting rid of dirt and dust
More enjoyable you make each room
In every house you are a must
So thank you my trusty broom
In broom, we trust :)
Feb 27, 2023
Ode Contest
Sponsor: Jeff Kyser
A shadow runs across a meadow
a hawk above me on a cloudless day.
A high prescience
for a moment
overhanging a far heaven.
It is not stooping or diving,
not reaching or snatching,
it is not bent to the wind like an arrow,
nor hunting.
When Goshawks hunt
they trace small circles,
seeking a rustle and bustle,
tell-tale signs of scurry.
For now it is not compelled or held
by any thought or sight,
lithely it sails,
nonchalantly counting coup,
jousting with the sun on lancing wings.
A raptor cleaving its authority.
Swift winged conqueror!
An ascendency unmatched
by anything else this day.
"Lessons"
By: Eric L. Boddie
My name is was, always has been,
Strong, when it comes to a poetic pen
My talent is deep, not ripped off a dictionary
Straight from the street, pushing rhymes
You can sit and soak behind my words
Breathe in my light, it might do you right. --PD
And that means I am will be
I am the future you will see
I will provide ink for your pen
I will supply chills for your skin
I will write my way into your heart
I will erase any obstacle you may start
Simply because I adore the mind
God Trusted to you, it is great to intertwine --EB
Baring it all, I have nothing to hide
A long way in, a long way out
Creating demons, jousting thy pen
On any given night I will destroy the enemy --PD
And before we leave, let's get one thing clear
Our words will whip that ass for the inspiration of a tear.... EB
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Of romance, they never pen.
As if they had paralysis, or is
romance a secret then?
It's as real as the nose on your
face!
Have you erased it all and so
what took its place?
Yes, I heard about the poets,joy to
disgrace each other!
The sweetest poets here got intense
joy out of watching the jousting between
poet sisters and brothers?
A passion for poet blood, because
your life is that dull?
Better you have a hot toddy that
makes that mind of yours null!
Insults and spurn, do not encouragement
make.
Mail each other to have it out, on your
time, not ours is my take!
People see us ranting and humiliating
one another?
Who wants to join The Soup and get
their poetry smothered?
4/i3/2021
~4~
Walls of Stone
By Franklin Price
4/14/2015
Walls of stone surround the fields
All were stacked by hand
Removed from fields that they surround
To allow farming of the land
No mortar holding them in place
Some a thousand years I'd guess
With care each one was put in place
An awesome job I must confess
The walls go on for miles and miles
Up the hills and down
From one field to another
Until they reach an ancient town
A reconditioned castle
Is coming into view
Could have been in ruins
Imposing structure far from new
Dates to a time in history
Of dukes and serfs and knights
The classes were determined
Each had such different rights
Dukes lived in the castles
Owned all the land around
Serfs worked daily for the duke
Farmed the stone surrounded ground
Knights fought off invaders
Crusaders off to war
Jousting for entertainment
Prizes for the highest score
Dukes still hold some of the lands
Serf's descendant's have their own
Jousting knights on horses gone
Remaining still the walls of stone
As I scan though pictures
of so long ago,
I see you as I am today.
Much younger, vibrant,
taking on the mountains,
jousting though life.
But I know you,
as a gentle soul,
now
with weathered hands,
and caring face.
And as you are,
I will become,
For you see
the road only goes one way.