Long Nobleman Poems
Long Nobleman Poems. Below are the most popular long Nobleman by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nobleman poems by poem length and keyword.
So sensationally super; Sagittarius son of John Spence
Pleasantly personable, and matriarch Maud Spence’s son
Enabling, exquisite, eloquent, evolving and enterprising
Naturally nice, no nonsense, and a nutritionist nobleman
Carrot consumer, constant comrade and cold-war veteran
Equitably enlightened, and just an elegant eggnog taster
Jumping Jupiter, a jubilant sundae lover, and just a jewel
Oppresso de liber, optimistically captivating; oratorical
Saintly passionate, succulent salmon sampler; sweetheart!
Exquisitely enchanting, enchantingly amatorious; éclat!
Playful, painstakingly passionate, pajama wearer, patient
Handsomely helpful handyman, harmonizer of happiness
Sweet as syrup, shining armor off the shelf; savoir-faire!
Red-blooded poetry connoisseur and radioactively lovable!
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Won Seventh Place Position
"Tell Me About You Contest"
June 16, 2010
Sponsored by Amy Green
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In days of old the poets told a tale
A scout rode out to search the unforseen
To gather food and drink, to blaze a trail
A pious nobleman, charged by his queen
He was a fearless man and very wise
Outwitting those mistaking him a fool
His principles he would not compromise
His creed of life, "Obey the Golden Rule"
For many years he rode and sacrificed
His health and wealth, yet never one complaint
His pay for services grossly mispriced
They mourned him in the end, a selfless saint
The poets often cried, the tale so sad
His queen decreed henceforth,"He'll be called Dad"
Daniel Turner
Thank you Dad
One summer eve in Galilee
I stood before my open door;
to me it seemed just one more night--
like all the others gone before.
Someone would come and, passing by,
would hear the tinkling of the bells,
would see the garish harlot's robe
and painted eyes beneath my veil.
Someone, a man like all the rest--
it did not matter much to me--
a nobleman, Samaritan,
a Roman or a Pharisee,
someone would pause and with one glance
strip me again of maiden pride,
and leaving, later, never know
the shame and shattered dreams I hide.
O, he would think me very gay;
he would not see my hollow heart
nor hear me curse him for his pay.
Just then I saw a band of men
approaching down the narrow road;
there should be one among that crowd
aho wants the favors I bestow.
Kind eyes met mine, and with one look,
He saw what others could not see;
He saw the hunger of my soul,
my loneliness and misery.
I only know that since that day
I live to walk along with Him.
His look of love has changed my life;
I need not sell my love again.
Tonight He dines at Simon's house__
all day the dusty paths we roamed;
but, still he waits, unwashed, unkissed;
small courtesies no one has shown.
My love for Him! It rolls and swells
till from His side I cannot stay;
I will wash His feet with tears of love
and with my hair wipe the sand away.
Copyright, 1987, Faye Gibson
In the Highlands of Scotland
A Kingdom exists
Two Kings rule
In the mountains and mist
A nobleman knight
With his bird of prey
A Golden Eagle so rare
Regal display
On moonlit nights
A turret he stands
Golden Eagle on hand
Two powers of grand
One word he speaks
The Eagle lifts
In powerful swoop
Gracefully swift
He flies to the heavens
Turns into the moon
To silhouette himself
In winged tune
The lunar light
On the knight shines
As he views his Eagle
In flight divine
A whistling call
Wind of change
The Eagle returns
To his masters domain
Hand outstretched
In silent land
The call of the wild
In respectful command
Come to my Kingdom
For all this you'll see
In the Highlands of Scotland
The real land of the free
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy4.php
The wicked witch of the West
Wanted to be a model on the cover of the
Cosmopolitan.
Her green complexion made her a woman
Of extreme interest.
She should of fired her dress designer who
Manifest
Her as a harridan.
The wicked witch of the West
Filled out the paper work to enter the modeling
Contest.
People were surprised when they found out
She had been her classes valedictorian
Her green complexion made her a woman
Of extreme interest.
The Judges found her some one who was
Willing to invest
Time and money to help her as she began.
The wicked witch of the West
Was also on a quest
To find her superman
Her green complexion made her a woman
Of extreme interest.
She did find him while doing a modeling job
In Key West.
He is a nobleman.
The wicked witch of the West
With her complexion was never second best
She will always be his woman of extreme
Interest.
A Shadorma
Arthur’s lot
memory of myth
it’s never
been proven
legend, myth, reality
will we ever know?
The truth lay
buried but not at
Tintagel
perhaps it’s
elsewhere or perhaps he was
not really a king...
Maybe a
farmer or trader?
Tin miner,
a genius,
great mind within his own time?
it may be...
A king can
be numerous things
even a
scientist;
king of industry or a
prognosticator?
Perhaps he
was really Merlin?
A nickname
of Arthur...
nobility's not always
simply a ruler...
Sometimes we
must look carefully
to define
many words
what if Arthur was just a
common nobleman?
We look for
those whom are wiser
than ourselves.
What if king,
was a reference to his
bright, bold character?
The ink from his pen flowed through my veins even at first sight
Great passion I felt reading his words that enlightening night
His style so much like my own, eerie similarity
He certainly evoked a strange familiarity
Never before had I felt I had known someone this way
It seemed we’d met before, another place, another day
A connection made quickly blossomed bearing fruit of joy
And even an ocean’s breadth my feelings could not destroy
My first initial reaction, when I clicked on her name
Feeling of knowing, images from a past distant domain
The same similar writings, and their historicalness
Unbelievably spooky, of which I have to confess
This most weirdness of feeling, I have ever endured
We most definitely have met, of that I am assured
Thoughts in hidden waves, this communicating thrills me so
By land sea and air, to this maiden I desire to go
I have known this man before, but from where I could not say
‘Til to the tune an owl sings, my consciousness slipped away
In a round stone room atop a castle I wept sadly
How could one professing love have treated me so badly
Imprisoned I would remain ‘til I returned his feelings
It was another nobleman who set my heart reeling
My highlander, so strong and tall, I prayed he’d come for me
Scale the tower, slay my captor and finally set me free
This maiden I must find, in a kingdom so far away
To gather my band of followers, for tonight I pray
I confide in my magician, wisdom he holds
For tomorrow my plan of action, we will all be told
In a castle my maiden's held, on dragons' backs we ride
To challenge her captor, to gain her freedom and her pride
In the early morning we swoop, the castle walls are scaled
I rescue my blond maiden, all the captured knights impaled
And to all those I have wronged
I am remorseful
For my life is an enigma
And at times I lose my way
Like a mad dog that goes astray
Enslaved by tribulations
That fails to go away
And reason becomes an absurdity
As my sanity fades away
Like a stallion
In the misty wilderness
Who comes back at dawn?
My mind awakes
Replenish with life with the warmth of the sun
And rejuvenates like a new born
To drink from the lake of life
And to start another sojourn on earth
To get what is left to take
And remember those I shall never forget
And those I shall not forsake
Dreams unfilled
Living a life that is less thrilled
Ruled by plutocrats and kleptocrats
Who served the god of money
He takes your soul in return for a drop of honey
Friends come and friends go like the autumn wind
It s cold
So is life
For all that glitters is not gold
Standing on principle is worthless in the land of lunatics
Where religion is used as a weapon
By the raging fanatics
And freedom is used to enslave you more
For the oppressors we see
Are worse than the oppressors we saw
It is worthless for a bleeding pauper
The world sees not those who suffer
Except those who bask in the euphoria of wealth and stupidity
And who disgust those who live a life of humility
For the puppet master still pulls my strings
He is the god we see
Who controls all that life brings
And those artificial things
But time will vindicate the righteous
If you are true indeed so
When it blows
The wind of change
Everybody knows
Sound of chance
Fills the air
And ends your despair
Time servers and sycophants will perish
So will all that they cherish!
And relish
Hidden secrets locked away in the chest of the truth
Now unlocked
And I regain exuberance
Like I have bathed in the Fountain of Youth
For I have vowed to speak the truth
Parasites and worms that feed on the dead and the living
But never care for others because
They are never giving
Kings and nobleman were born of slaves
They are blind when they hold the mantle of authority
They fall because they know not the meaning of prosperity
A divide house can never stand
So let us unite
Form:
I drained life of its fullness...
not pricing its worthiness,
leaving nicks in the prime of youth:
deceitful tricks to ignore every truth.
I imitated parody to conceal identity,
thus making it forgery my priority;
and the masked nobleman acted out his
infamous burlesque play, ridiculing Fay...
knowing that her unrhymed lines
were intently borrowed from clowns,
not from gifted writers with clever minds;
did they bray when they were blamed for the delay?
My intent was not a merited Godsent or lofty thought
perceived by a gladiator who held the wilt
of his sword proportioned to his solid built,
but rather ridden by a guilt which had a powerful force to jilt
me when I was reduced to tears by my peers for my peculiar tilt.
Written on 12/12/2016
What a lovely, lovely boy he was,
And such pretty manners-oh!
And a charming boy he was because-
He knew what to say, where to go.
Such a fine man he became, became;
And such courtly airs and flair!
As scents crowd summer, none the same,
And leave a memory everywhere.
A gallant man, so smart and all!
And honest and seemly strong.
His portrait graces palace wall;
And the days of glory are long.
Such a noble, nobleman was he,
All subtle in face and grace;
A finer man could never be,
He had admirers in every place.
As fresh a breath of air he was,
As in nature's own vast room.
And so much loved he was because
He somehow cast off all gloom.
Such a fiery knight and true!
And what a passion he gave, he gave.
Turned pale skies so to blue,
And he never, never knew a knave.