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.
I used to be a force to be reckoned with
Way back in days of yore
Warriors would come from far and wide
To challenge me on battle floor
I earned respect the hard way
In kingdoms my name highly revered
I left a wake of dead fools behind me
Until my presence became greatly feared
I fought for my King and country
With mighty sword and trusty shield
And though many times outnumbered
My ground I would never yield
My bones have now grown fragile
The scars have mapped across my face
My dreams of a quiet country home
Have vanished without a trace.
Here before me is my final apponent
Come to strip me of my fame
He reminds me of my younger self
Seeking to bring glory to his name.
Today I come to this decision
To concede the last death blow
He will believe he has the best of me
But the truth only God and I will know.
To close your eyes forever in hopes it dulls your pain. Twisted
bodies, broken blades, men far removed from sane.
Shrouded chaos in the fog, mind hellbent on the cause. No remorse, no
time for thought, forsaken oaths and laws.
Battle sounds of phantom wars, the cries of long dead men. A fight now
waged within your head, this one you cannot win. No rest though you
are weary and kept up late at night. Reliving all your actions,
dividing wrong from right.
No escape, no return, can't turn back on all you've done. You've waged
these wars, you've let their blood, in battles lost and won. Age hath
taken all the things that foemen never could. You've lost your sight,
you've lost your strength and forgotten all that's good.
Looking back no fondness found in all that's left behind. You'd look
deeper into why you seethe, if you could stomach what you find. It's all
done now you're worn so thin from serving in the fights. You've proven
only that you can slay, you who once were knights.
The light is thinning.
A ragged man struggles
to carry an unboxed
large plasma screen.
He is walking it home,
he has no home
still, he is walking it,
but now it's raining
the TV becomes
a slippery umbrella.
There is so little light to be had,
no one goes to the park
not even to stare at the sky,
not even to walk a dog,
not even to smoke a cigarette
huddled behind
a dripping tree trunk.
A TV slides down
a slick grassy bank.
A bad day for minstrels,
knights and stray unicorns.
An old woman,
hands wrapped
in fingerless wool,
tugs at an abandoned
plasma screen.
After sliding down a grassy bank
she gives up.
Beetles spill out of a ruck of turf.
Her heels disappear into a gray light.
The beetles take shelter
under a large television.
Laying in a field of clover, my white shirt stained with green
The day is almost over, the sun hides in-between
The white spun clouds of Autumn, above the castle’s lawn
I mean to pass the time here, until the break of dawn
I wake to feel the sun, beat on my placid face
And so I rise and walk, a slow and tranquil pace
A team of trotting horses, pulling canons pass me by
The knights are close behind, I hear the victory cry
And so I join my men, on this a forlorn day
Preparing for the armies, heading fast this way
I grab my lance and shield, and kneel to say a prayer
And soon to mount my horse, and lead it from it’s lair
My armor now feels heavy, my horse begins to sag
My duty to the queen, and to my country’s flag
Has moved me to forget, the field where once I laid
And off to war I go, I dare not be afraid
Through days of mortal combat, and cries of dying men
I sped through scenes of carnage, and crossed the bloodied glen
That led us to the battle field, beyond the Cliffs of Dover
And trampled through in hundreds, across that field of clover
O, my angel, how smitten are yearnings of lonely night!
Will lover’s fantasy enchant, dream of this dreary night?
Though alluring is its rhythm, are you aware my sweet love,
Forlorn is the song, vying favor of this sullen night?
Glance of seduction, glamor of opulence, express doubt:
Can an enamored moon enthrall, this melancholic night?
My dear, how sincerely must I plead, to heavens above:
Let dawn of desires blossom, in passion of wistful night!
It is the quest of my appeal and zeal of my longings:
Oh, fervor of my love, conquer this solitary night!
Have you not heard my love, benevolence of my prayer,
Appealing to the goddess, tolling fervid wish of night?
Voice of love proclaims~ fertile is ending of our story:
Passions will flourish, sowing seeds of love, in womb of night.
You too heard the prophecy, in words of Aphrodite:
Epistle of romance bestows, entrance to glory night!
Expect me my dear, commanding the chariots of knights;
Welcome me with a kiss, to empire of hypnotic night.
O, my angel, open your heart, let-in dream of lifetime,
Where we shall dwell forever, crafting fable of the night.
“700”
We stood upon a windy hill
The sky a greying growling mass
Amid a motely gathering
Of Knights and weathered fighters
Warriors old who stood wi Wallace
And led by Moray,s standard.
They wept when both had passed
Now ready at The Bruce,s side.
Hearts filled with nationalistic pride
They brought their tools of trade
Sickles and hammers alongside
Swords and pikes and targes
To fight and die glorious nameless
For the taste of freedoms wine.
The cry of freedom echoes
From village to distant hill
As The Bruce roars out a command
Raising the sword from Wallaces hand
Towards the massed ranks of heavy horse
Floundering in scotia,s mud
The burn it flows on turned red
With warriors life and blood.
...................................
Seven hundred years have flown
And as we stand again upon a hill
A choice has to be made
Whether to grow and flourish
To stay under anothers hand
Once again the banners fly
Under a greying, growling sky.
(to commemerate the 700th anniversary of Scotlands fight to be a kingdom)
Living in fear and fright
Every thought digging like a mite
One side fights the other
What is wrong and right
Every moment brings a new slight
Each brain interaction designed to incite
The relapse becomes an everyday blight
To the point of needing to take flight
Whatever the time day or night
Maybe tonight will be the last
Walk forward confused toward the light
Day dreaming the day away to reunite
No invite is needed
Just opportunity to reunite
The opportunity excites
This maybe the only way it’ll be alright
Flying high with the seagulls and kites
Meeting heroes and knights
Queens in white
People of the past shining bright
What a lovely idea and sight
One move to make to unite
An insect bite
Or jumping from height
A lawn river or building site
Quite a choice
A risk of survival would be spite
An Old Oak Tree stands proud and tall
Through time it probably has seen it all
As time went by from year to year
It looked closely never fear
Standing magnificent for over 800 years
In a meadow frequented by Horses and Deer’s
In its earliest years it would have seen many a sight
Of riders on horseback be it a King or a Knight
Who’s Armour would have shined and glinted in the Noonday Sun
As they Hunted animals just for fun
Many a King may have come and gone
Many a Sunny day and bright Moon shone
Its leaves a fluttering in the wind and rain
As centuries came and past in vain
As time went by things moved on and on
The Knights they had come and gone
As centuries passed by the tree stood tall
Through all those years it had seen it all
Even Lovers in the pale moonlight
Lay on the ground holding each other tight
What else went on only the oak tree knows
Time like a river just flows and flows
The Sunlight still glints on its weathered leaves
Hanging from its branches like badly ripped sleeves
Now growing old looking tired and worn
Standing next to a field of corn
This giant of nature still standing tall and proud
Would forever stand out from the crowd
Many a day I have passed by this wise old tree
Sees how it’s leaved glistened as the look down at me
It will probably stand for many more years
Each season it’s leaves will fall like tears
But for me it will always raise smile upon my face
My quiet and truly wondrous place.
We are swords, yet so silent,
Living on this planet.
Like birds that sing every day,
Telling us that the weather is bad.
I fear many things,
For the jungle is deeply disturbed.
Lions think they are the owners;
They rule the goats without mercy.
Hens are persecuted by lions;
They burn while waiting for the rain.
Peace is only a dream in the jungle,
And difficulties begin when we wake.
People pray for the night,
Not for the daylight that brings suffering.
They beg for help because
The elephants disappeared with their promises.
They abandoned the jungle like strangers,
No longer longing for their home.
Who will save the little birds from the lions,
Lost in the darkest part of the forest?
Only brave knights can rescue them.
Brave are the knights and their mounts,
to face hates abominations,
many of them were falling,
under the weight of Hell, they fell.
Still, we see many standing,
they fight on with such angry power,
It seemed they would not stand for long,
honour kept them in the fight.
The knights did surely need rest,
some began to sway under enemy strength,
the heavy armour was sapping them,
Only power of spirit held them aloft.
Many fell within their armour,
without heads, arms, legs and heads,
Still, look how their weapons bite home,
the enemy are falling.
Behind the main units of foot,
some men stood, not seeming in the battle,
these warriors ran to the right,
they formed into a unit as they ran.
These, those souls who had run from the field, earlier,
fear seemed to have left them now,
they formed on the right flank,
fully formed they looked a sorry site.
Forward they did march,
pride swelling within them again,
they marched straight up the right,
look at them now and wonder,
someone yelled, "Forward,"
this rag-tag unit was off,
the unit ran towards the enemy,
each man ready to die for Alahsar.
Now, all the first knights were in the battle,
they thought like the red,
once more they fought for the life of Alahsar,
they thought with love's desire.
As they did run into battle,
can we see the golden gates open?
Yes, the great golden gates do open.
A golden warrior is seen.
it is the golden king,
from gold rode gold,
with the golden king rode the royal guard,
out they came at a charge.
200 of Alahsar's best followed the king,
this was the last card played,
they rode onto Badicha,
the earth thundered below them.
Now Badicha was filled with knights,
enemies, warriors and spiritual beings,
this was the final fight for existence,
No more forces could be called on.
It was truly to the end,
the fate of the world in one monumental moment,
the right flank might soon crack,
terror was in many eyes.
The wolves were indeed a terror,
they had no fear,
their mouths ever ready to rend,
blood and saliva dripping from their mouths.
Their claws ever ready to tear,
they could rip through armour,
the wolves could give forth a terrible death,
yet this death had to be faced.
To Be Continued..........