Long Knights Poems
Long Knights Poems. Below are the most popular long Knights by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Knights poems by poem length and keyword.
Let me take you to Venice
passing through the canals
all the alleys and valleys
gondolieurs,souvenirs,
saying cheers,drinking wine
whilst we dine,full moon
lanternes lightning sweet Venice,
its the place for romance
our place, shall we dance?
home sweet home ,we're in Venice............
Let me take you to Paris,
lovers home were we roam
and we go up so high nearly
touching the sky in chic Paris,
There we go on Eiffel Greatest tower,
holding hand,disney land an adventure
for hours,shall we dance once again?
im your girl,you're my man!
home sweet home,we're in Grand Paris............
Let me take you to London doing good
shopping spree,London eye,more to see
visiting Royalty Handsome William and Harry,
thats the day ,You will ask me to marry......
Whilst we pass London's bridge by the ferry
Home sweet home London home.......
Shall we Marry?...................................
Let me take you to Greece,
where all legends and myths
shape to life once again,
whilst the Gods bow their head
shall we wed then we sleep in our bed,
making love through the night in soft breeze,
i'm your girl,You're my man!
Home sweet home,we're in Greece............
Let me take you to Malta melite!
Rich history, flowered carpets n all streets,
Mdina lovers' den, charming gem silent city,
brown eyed men with a tan,girls so pretty!
and the sun shines so bright,many stars
through the night,my sweet homeland delight,
happy faces what a site!Malta beauty sweet dreams,
showing you what life means,where safety matter most,
where people are not ghosts,where love flows as it glows,
through our seas,scented breeze,treasure treats
temples , harbours,good food,all to please...and they please.......
Its the place where you're home ,feel at ease
whilst we dance ,the best dance of classic LOVE romance
home sweet home,we're in land of the knights,
we're in MALTA--MELITE--EUROPE'S PEARL off all times...
Malta Melite my Heart Beat.........till it dies..................
--------------------------------------------------------------------CHARMA
Form:
Name of Painting: Land of Enchantment
Artist: Norman Rocwell
I stand before Rockwell’s painting,
the world tilting toward wonder~
a boy is bent over a book,
lantern glow pooling around him,
a small sun he’s been trusted to keep.
Figures rise from the page:
knights, sprites, impossible creatures,
their colors soft yet insistent, as if imagination itself
has stepped out to greet him.
I watch the boy’s face—rapt, unguarded~
and feel that old ache of childhood belief,
the way stories once lifted me
beyond the boundaries of my own small life.
The air around me smells of dust and summer wood;
the book’s spine creaks like a door opening;
and the painted air hums with that tender promise
that the world is larger, stranger, kinder
than I remembered.
Rockwell reminds me that enchantment isn’t loud~
it arrives quietly, like tidewater or truth,
asking only that I pause long enough
to let the impossible step forward.
And standing before the painting,
I feel something shift:
a loosening, a widening~
as if the boy’s lantern has cast its circle
around me too,
inviting me back into the realm
where wonder is not a relic
but a living, breathing companion.
Huffle-winks came from the forest of Jom
The King sent five knights to track them all down
For they had brought terror to the kingdom
He offered his daughter and prince’s crown.
Four of the bold knights by dragons were slain
But one lone brave knight continued the quest
Through woods, rivers and mountainous terrain
Until quest completed he would not rest.
The forest entrance surrounded by mire
Here the huffle-winks would meet their demise
That is where the brave knight built a large fire
Their enemies helped him, the dragonflies.
Huffle-winks are gone, they’ve not been seen since
The knight wed the princess and was crowned prince.
Written on 22 May 2018
For Dragons Huffle-winks, and Dragonflies contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
Is friendship like a funeral
Where cold frenzies are played out
Among friends of the darling years?
Neighbours protect themselves
In solid caves of ancient discord
Where offsprings are bred & armed
With deadly weapons of hatred!
Men linger here sad & tired
As in a land of the living-dead –
The drummers are like the dancers:
A shadow of their ancestors!
War-eyed fake & drudged intellectuals
Litter our paths of native mind
Bearing giant luggage of rumours
More fearful than real battles
Of castled Chauceric knights!
O in those far-away tenements
And squalors which house students
Many an empty ruse germinate
In a soil rich in abuses!
Two inmates fled from the night
To those hut-like structures
Where secret readings are enacted –
Then two lads for long cursed!
Men & women & kids linger here
In a small society born for love
Sensibility & contemplation & inquiry
Forsaken in cold rumours of wars
While sanity & love dwell in the grave!
Does hatred breed love & health & life?
The Oxford days are gone?
Form:
I.
There's a phantom closing in with the tempest
There's an all seeing eye in the wind that knows best
There's a voice crying in the wilderness without rest
Repent! Repent! The kingdom of Truth is at hand
The knights of Zion are almost done with their quest
The raving dusk calls dawn and her dewy companions
They beseech the Lord of the light full years who paid the highest ransom
II.
Listen to the cornerstone speak
He holds back the blooms in seasons when he pleases
His words are lustrous and his voice is still
My heart will hold his secrets
Like the heavens hold the cluster of stars
When all their forces and courage in radiance they muster
Their tolerances and desires to utter
Deep-seated on high with the twenty and four elders
III.
Indulge me, Lord of the cross
The battles wouldn't engulf me though my life seems to hang on a toss
The storms I seek to quell will never overwhelm me
If I stay in the hollow of your hands, your spirit will protect me
If you let me down, I may end up with the lost you count
So please hold me now and let me drink from your fount
IV.
Your elements of time no other can device
Lord of the Earth, seas and fire
You hush winds and here in the midst of uncertainty we build what's certain,
Lo, I'm forever strong on your wings
Knowing you're the true Lord of the spirits
Your will for me is written
By the angel of your presence, it is fulfilled
V.
There are beholders with beauties, all yours
And windows blinded by superstitions hearts nurse
Dreaming on a journey that never seems to end
Only Jesus can hold us firm when that thief comes to rend
Blaming God knowing there's nothing without the maker
And he brings forth all put down by the undertaker
All cast in one image by the angel of his
presence
The Strange Truces of King Arthur
by Michael R. Burch
Artur took Cabal, his hound,
and Carwennan, his knife,
and his sword forged by Wayland
and Merlyn, his falcon,
and, saying goodbye to his sons and his wife,
he strode to the Table Rounde.
“Here is my spear, Rhongomyniad,
and here is Wygar that I wear.
Now ready for war,
an oath I foreswore
to fight for all that is righteous and fair
from Wales to the towers of Gilead!”
But none could be found to contest him,
for Lancelot had slewn them, forsooth,
so he hastened back home, for to rest him,
till his wife bade him, “Thatch up the roof!”
Originally published by Neovictorian/Cochlea, then by Celtic Twilight
We must sometimes wonder if all the fighting related to King Arthur and his knights was really necessary. In particular, it seems that Lancelot fought and either captured or killed a fairly large percentage of the population of England. Could it be that Arthur preferred to fight than stay at home and do domestic chores? And, honestly now, if he and his knights were such incredible warriors, who would have been silly enough to do battle with them? Wygar was the name of Arthur’s hauberk, or armored tunic, which was supposedly fashioned by one Witege or Widia, quite possibly the son of Wayland Smith. The legends suggest that Excalibur was forged upon the anvil of the smith-god Wayland, who was also known as Volund, which sounds suspiciously like Vulcan. Keywords/Tags—King Arthur, Arthurian, Round Table, Knights, Merlin, Guinevere, Lancelot, England, Camelot, Excalibur, Grail Quest, Chivalry, Arms, Armor, Battle, War, Peace, Castle
She peruses the paper each morning, and the cartoons for laughs
Then she reads letters from the public
Most of these letters are responded to by her staff
She is briefed daily on matters of policy and politics
She meets privately with the prominent and those of fame
And gives out awards and medals
She is from a tradition of times medieval
If she knights you, Sir, precedes your name
When meeting her, women curtsy
While gentlemen bow to Her Majesty
She has reigned with grace
And is loved by people from many places
The daughter of King George VI and Queen Elizabeth
Her accession to the throne was in 1952
After her father's death
In 1953 she became Queen Elizabeth Ii
NEVER BEEN TO LAS VEGAS NEVER FELT THE NEED TO VENTURE THE DESERT PERHAPS ITS MY ASTHMA THE DRY HEAT TAKING MY BREATH AWAY I ADORE BRISK AIR GROWING UP IN CHICAGO THAT CHICAGO BREEZE WE CALLED THE HAWK BLARING DOWN LAKESHORE DRIVE AS THE SUN BEAMS OVER THE IRISH RIVER LAKE MICHIGAN FROZEN OVER EVERY THING STILL FRESH AND NEW I AGREE WITH FRANK SINATRA I WOULD ABSOLUTELY HATE CALIFORNIA WEST COAST AND THE DESERT NEVER BEEN TO LAS VEGAS WHY I NEVER HAD THE NEED TO VENTURE THERE NOT EVEN THE SPARKLING LIGHTS CASINOS AROUSED MY SENSES I ADORE THE BAVARIAN ALPS I LIVED IN PERLACHER FORST ABTINY VILLAGE IN MUNICH GERMANY I ADORED WATCHING THE SNOW CAPPED MOUNTAINS IN JUNE THE WAY THE TALL PINES CAPTURE THE FOREST AMAZING TO WITNESS NEVER BEEN TO LAS VEGAS FUNNY THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING ABOUT LAS VEGAS I NEVER GAMBLE WHY GO TO VEGAS WHAT A WONDERFUL WORLD I AM TRULY BLESSED I BECAME AND ADULT IN GERMANY THE HISTORY OF AVA BRUAN AND THE FEURER AUSTRIA UNCANNING THEE OKTOBERFEST THE KNEELING BLACK KNIGHTS HORSE TOY TOWN TOWN THOMAS MANN STATUE IN MANN PARK THE STRASUS SEATED AT THE VEINERWALD VEINER SCHITZEL AND POMFRITTS FOR BREAKFAST A SALAD EDGED A CRISP REISLING READING RATZINGER POEMS THE BARVARIAN ALPS AND ME
Your silhouette sitting there with your legs enhanced by the stockings you adorn
Barring your essence of skin
With your starry eyes you gaze, in alluring hither, you flaunt
With your free flowing hair soft and lush, golden in locks -
Softly touch the shoulders in pale white skin
Your arms slim and elegant, lay to the side
Revealing the soft flesh valley that leads down to your navel
With words drooling off the tip of my tongue
Filling my blood expand in warmth
Kneeling down as knights do, in front of you
With soft filled kisses adorn to your
Silky white flesh
From the neck soft lips suckle -
flowing downward in temptations at every kiss
Lips mingle, tied together by twisted lashes of tongue
Ravage flesh in my mind to lay softly in all time
next to you
The Game Changer-
Battlefield Pi
A call to arcs!!!
Breathes originating desiring chi to be thee
1st Brigade
There be Oarks against Knights
With fairies and Elves
Choosing sides amongst themselves
Upon which side of the line
They chose pouring magic wine
Pawns on a chase board be
If you think overlord thee
Mentalist envisioning new dimensions
In Spec. Ops.
Warlocks and Witches
Creating webs and swing stitches
Then there are those calling on
Faith in wishes
Which goes along with those
Why sick who disses
Psychotic, Physic, Prophets
Mystical, Medium, Mediums
Readers, writers, Rituals
Shaping, Sacred, Stones
Supreme pair are right inside Triangle
Is Center for Command and Control
Archangels and demons even be when
We dreaming
Monsters and Gods, who knew the odds
Ghost, and Ghouls if you don’t have the tools
Super Heroes and Super Villains
All living among the civilians
The metamorphs and trans-humans
Deciding upon which unit
One’s will, will you unite
Battles constantly is waged throughout the light of day
While the light in the dark shines the night away
This be ye mission
Whatever ye been wishing
Ye created in your own words
Which be ye’s decisions
Residing ye in that dimension
Form: