Long King Poems
Long King Poems. Below are the most popular long King by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long King poems by poem length and keyword.
The First Christmas
by Michael R. Burch
’Twas in a land so long ago . . .
the lambs lay blanketed in snow
and little children everywhere
sat and watched warm embers glow
and dreamed (of what, we do not know).
And THEN a star appeared on high,
The brightest man had ever seen!
It made the children whisper low
in puzzled awe: What did it mean?
It made the wooly lambkins cry.
Not far away a new-born lay,
warm-blanketed in straw and hay,
a lowly manger for his crib.
The cattle mooed, distraught and low,
to see the child. They did not know
it now was Christmas day!
This is a poem in which I tried to capture the mystery and magic of the first Christmas day. If you like my poem, you are welcome to share it, but please cite me as the author, which you can do by including the title and subheading.
***
A Child’s Christmas Prayer of Despair for a Hindu Saint
by Michael R. Burch
Santa Claus,
for Christmas, please,
don’t bring me toys, or games, or candy ...
just ... Santa, please,
I’m on my knees! ...
please don’t let Jesus torture Gandhi!
***
What Would Santa Claus Say
by Michael R. Burch
What would Santa Claus say,
I wonder,
about Jesus returning
to kill and plunder?
For he'll likely return
on Christmas Day
to blow the bad
little boys away!
When He flashes like lightning
across the skies
and many a homosexual
dies,
when the harlots and heretics
are ripped asunder,
what will the Easter Bunny think,
I wonder?
***
I Syng of a Mayden (circa 1400)
translation by Michael R. Burch
I sing of a maiden
that is matchless:
the king of all kings
for her son she chose.
He came as still
where his mother was
as the April dew
falling on the grass.
He came as still
to his mother's bower
as the April dew
falling on the flower.
He came as still
where his mother lay
as the April dew
falling on the spray.
Mother and maiden
there was none but she:
well may such a lady
God's mother be!
https://youtu.be/A7NzFzy7_NE
Accept the challenges so that you can feel the exhilaration of victory.
Satisfaction lies in the effort, not in the attainment, full effort is full victory.
Cricket now is definitely a professional team sport.
The World Cup is a very important way to measure the good players, and the great ones. It is a test of a great player.
We have a great sense of togetherness. It is our team spirit that has taken us to this World Cup.
The World Cup is not just a great global sporting event, it is also inscribed with much deeper cultural and political importance.
The beauty of the World Cup is that while thirty-two countries get to cheer for their respective teams, the event also affirms a global pluralism - it is as much a festival of cultural multiplicity as it is a competition featuring some of the best athletes in the world.
Cricket is a most precarious profession; it is called a team game but, in fact, no one is so lonely as a batsman facing a bowler supported by ten fieldsmen and observed by two umpires to ensure that his error does not go unpunished.
The world is coming down
the flags of the winning country are up.
who wanna be no.1
who's gonna take up the world cup.
who will it be,
who'll be king,
it's once in a lifetime chance.
who'll rule the world.
gotta see who rule the world.
If you believe in yourself and have dedication and pride - and never quit, you'll be a winner. The price of victory is high but so are the rewards.
By Miss Aliza Kashmala Kiran.
Argh... dog dam mutt
(boot exhausted tending Milan Collie)
If only father time could... but
yea right Matthew Scott cut
your losses, accompanied
with sinking feeling in gut
ready to vent off steam
start fire next time and burn
(billy me I merrily Joel King),
down house i.e. mancave hut...,
in tot, while yours truly emulates
one among many talking heads
with tongue doth jut
out mouth making nasty facial feature
at reflection nut
tin much else
except, perhaps try to put
gear into overdrive any
remembered magmatic
lava lee fragments
to pull this mad man
out of figurative rut
nothing gainsaid verbally taunting self
with expletive epithet
more colorful than tut...tut... tut.
Chalk permanent heart wrenching
pinteresting kindling horrifying
devastating loss regarding
opus magnus extremely cross
at yours truly, nope no ace
in the hole, hence best bet to
down bottle of tranquilizers
with swig flask of booze to brace
transcending after life netherland,
where angels plucking harps
magically can exorcise
Manhattan goose stepping
quite pheasant hunched mountebank
Norte worthy dame
giving bankable chase
courtesy cloistered chaste
siren of Titan (on the
order of Mrs. Doubtfire)
hoop fully abducts me than
willingly, meticulously,
and compliantly doth erase
every vestige of writings.
Thoroughly cooked duck, dogged
dully dilly dallying gent
realized errors of
his ways, where bent
crooked right hand pinky the chief
hankering provocateur leant
admission (for one adult) cogent
tam o shanter donning Brit with scent
tum mental affectation unable to console
yours truly, who feeble
effort non poetic event
merely hoped to muster
even lame to assuage
smoldering ire, wherever
sense and sensibility went.
As was written by the Founding Fathers in so implying
Now no one even bothers to check who is really lying
With the technology of today which they didn't need
Oh how it is so easy to betray in this dastardly deed
They also mention the "Creator" early on I might add
That "the Government will ensure" is what's truly sad
That "it is self evident" back then, but not any more
We all know what was meant but now what's in store
56 million weren't equal for sure and 2,500 just today
Created by our Creator, destroyed by man's own way
Is there no consequence, well maybe just look around
The effects are immense least that's what I've found
Think upon created equal for a while letting it sink in
Think how they defile, against God being no greater sin
Lying there, so unprotected, but covered in God's Grace
They're not to be neglected, such a responsibility to face
Jeremiah Chapter 21:10
For I have set my face against this city for evil,
and not for good, saith the LORD:
it shall be given into the hand of the king of Babylon,
and he shall burn it with fire.
Corrupted Nations are always warned, like the U.S. in 2008, 2001,
1994, 1987, 1980 and so on. In so changing, judgment is taken away.
We went the other way and there was no change whatsoever.
No warning in 2015. Hmmm!
It leads back to the day...
When the formula of perfection was mastered within the voices
of five silhouettes...
Jina, Tara
Shannon, Trena and lastly... Tiffany.
The last that entered this family unit instantly;
With opened arms that was engaged with acceptance and
stability.
For the harmony of these five angels bought happiness, peace,
and satisfaction; especially in the eyes and heart of our king and hero
known as Mr. Roy Saxon.
And as the harmony of voices reached its peak within the lime green home
on Noble/ Monticello...
Tiffany steps out and begins to sing her solo of thanks and
appreciation to her father, and joy... her invaluable Uncle Roy
who taught her the way of God's
Love, faith, and unity that touched and captured the soul amidst the guest of
friendly fellows...
"I could never give back the token of love that you bought into my life".
For
You are the man who turned from my uncle into my father
overnight... and
With that being said...
You'd always jump on me; hitting me upside my head and said
"Hey Kathy!"
All because of that damn t-shirt granny bought and gave to
thee.
From family gatherings to whatever's today's happenings;
there's always a time when you're happy yelling out my adoptive name of
Kathy.
For I still have flashbacks from a floppy tennis shoe; you used in your
rendition of Hee-Haw while dancing around in a circle laughing and saying...
"Kathy, Kathy"; Which is branded and will always be;
Even you had granny calling me Kathy just between you and
me.
So with that being said...
You are my gift from God; my magic rock and stand.
What more can I say?
You embody the royalty of the Saxon name and made it classy.
With all of our love...
Jina, Tara, Shannon, Trena and "KATHY"
G'day friends, I'll be fer intraducin' me self ta ye. I be Periwinkle, cook ta the High Court of Fairieand teller of tall tales. Hang a peony seed round ye wee ones necks, so ye donna lose them ta the fairie and I'll begin.
Todays tale is of Asclepias's pod boats. Fer drunk wus God on Ascle's wine when He made the whole world.
As told, Mordan had brought fall to the land and stalks dried. They fell from Ascle's arms as charcoal gray pods. The soldiers of the Seelie* Court took them and made boats with butterfly sails. How proud wus Auscle that his milkweed pods would serve the Fey King. All of Auscle's parts were precious ta the fey his seeds served as stuffin' for the Fey Courts gamesons. His flowers brought butterflies. And so, as fall passed to winter Auscle's gave, he gave his life's blood to heal the wounded, his boats brought war.
*Asclepias Milkweed
*Seelie are the good fairy the beautiful ones
Go ahead and make the first move,
but take care
One or two spaces so I can move
to my square
Game of life, I’m queen defending
my king
Pawns, so many seem such
insignificant a thing
I’ll stay in my castle with my
bishop for a lil while
As my knights ride to fight the
enemy in style
I’ll rush about you see when my
king Is in need
Watch for your next move, hope
I don’t misread
Sacrificing so many pieces attempting
to defend
Not a game it’s so real, you see
I won’t pretend
Soon the enemy will deplete my
trusted army
As they attempt to not let
anyone harm me
My role important, my moves
so unrestricted
Game of chance while their moves
I’ve predicted
I hate losing pieces but it’s for
me the Queen
End goal is to sit beside my
king ruling supreme
I’m very loyal down to the very
end, I will fight
Even when I watch fall my last
trusted knight
Each piece to the end will
fight so valiantly
Dying a noble death against those
who challenge me
I must keep my kingdom from
being overthrown
A mind game challenging so many
great unknowns
Hoping my king is truly the one,
and its fate
Because if not...it’s games over,
check mate
10/2020
Suspended Animation De Rigueur Among "Joe King" Six Pack
Yepper, once body functions cease
asper this ole codger,
mere seconds after expiration,
sans existential lease
immortality avails rubbery piece
of flesh christened
Matthew Scott Harris,
the legal mouthpiece
decreed by living will
after organ activity doth cease
immediate measures taken
courtesy Doctor Demento to decrease
any further senescence
till heartening no brainer
preserves jellied rolled masterpiece
wordsmith, meanwhile, I can sublease
these bag of bloodless love bones
done deal, all yours for trifle bro
pittance costing no more
than one Pinocchio
plying attached strings,
yea kinda like ma's yoyo
mine limp fingers needed to pull
performing fetes resembling
dead spindleshanks longfellow
all the while appearing as cheap trick
courtesy super tramping marionette...lo
taking me across world wide web,
where yours truly housed in Tokyo
hotel, never tiring globe trotting
performing one man deadened show
after earning so much dough...
necessity will arise to call tow
truck (mebbe more'n one),
when after bajillion years
would utter whoa
abundant flush with moolah,
a sought after Joe Schmoe
earning hand over rigor mortis fist
pile of money that doth grow
by leaps and bounds - hiho
exceeding penury, when struggling as poet
Cain and Abel to silence
those opposed to Roe
versus Wade, incumbent upon minor woe
awaiting future technology so
rejuvenating lifeless chap easily
mistaken for scarecrow
can carry on camping y'know
whaddya mean...
not to leave ye in suspense
but gotta join grateful dead, and gotta go
Adieu!
A Penn Valley phantom appears to haunt and lurk
premises at 1148 Greentree Lane
his youngest daughter (Abby) I pledged my troth and, natch won my Zison’s
Dunkirk
ire and vindictiveness akin to rivalry of Abel versus Cain
now breeds and festers hallucinations that make me go berserk
also brings to mind myth of another named King Canute, a Great Dane
whose battle cry and hymn of the Republic made manifest with ease of dirk
visitations with ethereal sprite pushes me to madness and makes me go
insane
torture treatment mangles mental management amidst mire and murk!
The rattle of chains heard despite noiseless apparition and wraith, which curse
and bain
from dark and sinister shadows make me feel like a jerk
at such fallacious belief in preternatural imaginative creations ranked as inane
by this skeptic whose vulnerable acuteness to otherworldly visages does perk
especially during wee hours of morning when superstition runs amuck and
seems to gain
upper hand and let spiral out of rational control thought of afterlife quirk
yet confession must be made that long dead father of wife does wag finger of
disdain
and utter silent disapproval and near ruination by marrying a bum of a guy who
lacks for work!
With the sunlight on my face,
All the walls surrounding me; opaque,
The outside world completely efface,
I found myself, now awake.
The fortress of my captivity,
Keeping me alive but still,
The fortress of my incompetency,
The last of me it killed.
The pleasure it tingled,
Cannot be replaced,
Still I wish to run away,
To the land outside these gates,
All the gold I have,
Is nothing but metal,
All the joy I need,
Is not for what I’ve settled,
This fortress of my solitude,
Forever screaming the pains it felt,
This fortress of my extinction.
With me, dying many deaths.
Curtains in this room,
Stopped speaking now,
Left their bodies here,
And heart outside the realm, astound.
It’s marvellous how miserable I am,
With all the wonders at my foot,
The jewels, the pleasures,
Even so,
I’d love to take all my plans and scram.
The palace of illusion,
I am living in,
Has given me more than I ever deserved,
Yet the feeling of me belonging in the field,
Is something I’ve always preserved .
The fortress of my hopelessness,
Falling down now,
With the reign of my lord changing,
In front of an unknown king we bow,
Thrown out of this boundary,
Helplessness prevails,
But the joy it brought me,
I set a new sail.
For life has always been,
Catastrophic,
Dreadful it seemed,
It felt worthwhile now,
Alas! It is just a dream.