Long Royal court Poems
Long Royal court Poems. Below are the most popular long Royal court by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Royal court poems by poem length and keyword.
(1)
O Thou the beauteous lofty fort!
O ancient manse O royal court!
O land of beauteous holy dream!
Thou art a shield of mortal mort
Thou midst of ancient royal mead
A royal shade A royal hand
From centuries by majestic sky
In circles of devotees stand
The birds there singth in mirth and Glee
And doth so souls of seraph bands
(11)
In evening sing cuckoo and lark
And with them ring the mystic bells
O Tell thou Dozen lofty gates
O speak Thou stepped magic wells
Sprawling on the rocky hills
In bent of running foaming Ghaan
To save His kingly royal heart
Thy face decor by Shah Sher Khan?
Thou built on ancient Indian lands
Thou Koh e noor of Pakistan
(111)
Artistic hands of noble Turks
They measured first by indian scale
They then erected Asian king
In meadow green in heart of vale
Oh Thou largest than all the forts!
On face of Asian continent
For crowds of people everyday
Thou sing the songs of merriment
O Thou the kingly knight at Arms!
O thou guarded by heavens wall!
Thy face on hilly slope was made
By thousand hands of Todar Laal!
To crush the tribes of Potohar
Who were the lions of Indian war
(4)
O kings , Queens Of royal line
Wherest thou live?
Wherest thou go?
No grave no tomb not any shrine
Wherest tell me wherest you bow?
Thou chirp in birds in
winds that blow!
Or thou in Ghaan bottoms row?
With open eyes I can see
The princess swimming in Baoli
In scented orchard royal maids
Are fixing blooms in princess braids
In castle thine now fairies dwell
They drink the water of thy wells
In horrid nights they knock at doors
And then lie on dusty floors
They wake and dance in lap of meads
In Dewy gale in morning breeze
O harken me departed souls
O ancient stones ! O willow tree!
I fear the fate of Royal king
Thy kingly face who can not see
Who can not pray in Royal mosque
Who can't feel it's mirth and Glee
I fear The callous lady Death
Who in thy orchard roams so free
(5)
Thy fort is in the hand of Lord
He is the owner of this Gem
While thou and me by our heart cord
Can bow to him or sing a hymn
We are the tourists on this earth
We are a grain of desert vast
While phantoms of the days of past
Like kingly jewels all they lost
Coulda been
the Hand of the Lying King,
if I didn’t tell the truth so much
Coulda been
Caesar’s right hand man,
if I was kill willing
to have a shogun trigger touch
Coulda been
chief consigliore renown
for the don Corelone spiked crown
But I never wanted to know
where the blood money
was body bag buried underground
Coulda been dark knighted Haman Faustian
All I had to diablo do was unjust be Equus no-good;
give breaking bad Darth Vader viper counsel, wearing a cobra hood
Terminator words that would crush the skull bones
Coulda been the Vice Hand
standing behind the golden chalice image,
ruling drunkenly on the Babylonian Empire throne
Coulda been
the Spartan Hand of the Grecian warlord,
but I loved peace too much
Told the Jezebel whisperers of the royal court,
don’t try to finger me to be the next flesh merchant of death ...
I don’t tear traffick in such ~ City-state grunts suffer enough
Coulda been
Caesar’s right hand hatchet man,
if I had promoted Herod cockatrice thoughts
to condor hatch crucifixion plans
If I had been parrot inclined
to whisper
some patriot mischief in Pharaoh’s ear ...
I coulda been
sitting next to the pirate power,
making the brown-nose boot lickers fear
Coulda been
the Iron Hand of the President,
if I truly had a crafty guile mind to
take a sticky dip ...
deep in them pockets of citizen you
Coulda been
the sixth finger of king Midas’ hand
But, breaking the golden rule,
just wasn’t the ambitious rear end
I was willing to career bend
If I was more Balaam money bag motivated —
Fee willing to put a Judas hand under the table;
and with an Iscariot silver patch-eye gaze,
look the other way as freedom get disabled
I coulda been
Pharaoh’s right hand man
I coulda been
the one who doused the torch
in Lady Liberty’s hand
I coulda been
Caesar’s right hand man
I coulda been
the one who lit the Pilate
in Nero’s hand
Coulda been
the right Hand of the Lying King,
if I didn’t roar the Judah truth so much
But I was born
a left hand of the Zion King,
who gave a righteous Resurrection roar,
echoing throughout eternity
*Image of Burgmansia Queen Of The Incas.
Sanguinea, Queen Of The Incas
In the lush jungles of constant condensation,
A royal order of an ancient kingdom,
That had ruled from an unknown beginning,
A caste system, whereby, a legacy of femininity,
Ruled over a vast domain, she'd be the Queen,
Known by one name since the start of their governance,
Sanguinea, Queen of all the Inca lands.
Regal and statuesque, donning a regalian dress,
That flowed down the length of her,
Of velvety rubies that drapes in reds.
In her royal court, she is surrounded,
By faces of envious greens that cowers,
Neath the richness of her extensive rule.
She is guarded by an army,
Bearing a powerful tawny armor,
They are a tower of strength that lifts their Queen,
So she can be seen by her doting subjects below.
Sanguinea, Queen of the Incas,
She would lure and entertain her unwary guest,
Her body full of emanating scents beguiles them to ecstasy,
And if she senses danger, she eludes a toxin,
That renders, the once seduced guest,
To be another victim of her passion.
The majestic Queen Sanguinea,
Overlooks her realms expanse,
From her hilltop palaces,
And its courtyard of still filled green faces.
With magnificence and savvy governance of her jungle kingdom,
She bears a formidable presence as she trumpets it, away,
And her magnanimity is without question,
For it is well known throughout and beyond, her wet domain,
For she is, after all, her royal majesty,
Sanguinea, Queen of the Incas.
*Sanguinea, of the aforementioned version--as there are several varieties, is a rather large trumpet red flower that is poisonous. It hangs downward from trees in a Peruvian jungle of South America (as pictured).
2019 May 31
*1st Place*
A STRAND (1074)
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 February 15
Have you ever sat or laid down
Deep in thoughts that float
Into your mind and your imagination
Creates a movie
What if those thoughts made you think
About your ancestors and what kind of life they had
Putting yourself in the picture and feet in their shoes?
The time traveller's travels turn back the hands of time
Toward the past into a made-up imagined
Otherworld steeped in history
That you may have read in books on TV
Or learned at school
It may be a period that you may like somewhere in, time
Like a child, your imagination runs wild
You could be anyone you decide to choose
A cowboy or girl riding through the plains out West
A captain of a ship carrying a treasure chest
Sailing to places waiting to be discovered yet unknown
You may be a Lady in a Royal Court of the throne
A knight Back in the days of old
An explorer in the artic where it's so cold
A humble peasant or a Yoman farming the land
Maybe an old movie star you admire on the silver screen
Or even a King or Queen
A jester and a fool
Or a rock star that's cool
The fifth Beatle with a song
A talented musician of note who never plays a note wrong
A stewardess on a plane
Or the driver of the Flying Scotsman steam train
Who would you not want to be?
A solider at Roukes drift
Anne Boleyn
A Gladiator
Lord Nelson
Al Capone
Ted Bundy
Billy the kid
General Custer
A prisoner in the war
A soldier in the trenches of World War One
The Sheriff of Nottingham
Shakerzulu
Humpty Dumpty
Vladamier the impala
Nero
Ava Bruan
Jim Morrison
Jona
Who would like to have been would you change who you are
And a person you imagine being back in time if you could
And swap your life?. Who would have you wanted to be?.
Emperor
Happy news came from royal imperial agents of his majesty
Printed on provincial paper of the day
The emperor will visit the village within the week
For the golden chrysanthemum event
To bless the cattle and the rice and eat a couple figs
Bad news came back the next day from palace guards
The emperor has other engagements to the north
But promises to return and keep his word
Sadder news came on the following day from imperial officials
The emperor would be going even further north
And hundreds of miles to the west, deep into borderlands
He will return when all wars come to an end
Our humble villagers can only wait
No one has ever seen the emperor to date
Not even his guards or family are sure if he is there
One of the palace guards assured us of the facts
While walking in the royal court
He is sure he saw the Imperial shadow clear as day
It is the emperor’s true shadow for certain
Being held there by the radiant sun
No one ever questioned this event
It would be bad luck
Though the dark spot on the wall evaporated in a fleeting second
Yet deemed official business by the royal court
As something to remember or forget, you have your choice
Villagers learned real soon, worse news, from rumor mongers
Stories started to fly, by those who specialize in lies
Perhaps the Emperor expired, fighting in the hills up north or west
This information disturbed, confused, perplexed
Yet the simple country folk did not care about these matters
The truth for them is this
No one has ever seen the man
Perhaps his shadow knows
But it moved on
Another Emperor will spring up some time
In someone’s mind
Royalty is just another toy
To fill the void
In subjects imagination
Through seventy years of change,
Orb and sceptre in your hands,
Serving your people, young and old,
You have reigned over these lands.
To duty called when you were young,
You took the oath in Edwards chair.
The crown sits well upon that head
That doth its precious weight still bear.
A beacon to your people,
To all your commonwealth,
You show us what devotion means
To something beyond self.
Prime ministers and presidents
Have graced your royal court
Charities from every sphere
Your patronage have sought.
A mother and a grandmother,
A loyal and loving wife.
A Queen with whom the nation
Shared the milestones of your life.
You could not give us any more,
You’re an example to us all.
Of the meaning of self sacrifice
That answer”s duty’s call.
You too have suffered pain and loss,
Part of life’s kaleidoscope.
You empathise, you sympathise,
You bring a nation hope.
You’ve led us in remembrance
At war’s sad and bitter loss,
You’ve shed tears at the cenotaph,
For the fallen and the lost.
You truly are respected
By every generation,
For standing by your people,
For fulfilling your vocation.
Not for ourselves alone are we
Born to this life we’re given
You’ve shown us what can be achieved
If we too are truly driven.
You”re our pride and our identity
Loved and held in great respect.
History will remember you
As our beloved “Lillibet.”
We celebrate these seventy years,
Your Platinum Jubilee.
And I, for one, am glad to be,
A subject of your majesty.
POLLY WANT A CRACKER??
…and so they play
political musical chairs
uncostumed clowns
scampering about
like children,
pushing and shoving
accusing all
of acting like them.
Passing electronic notes
for all to see
while accusing others
of “leaking” information.
Feigning indignation
at the behavior
of their adversaries,
grandstanding before
a shepherdless congress,
Milling about the political
dog park sniffing and barking
leaving a mess for others
to clean up after them.
Pointing fingers and questioning
all but themselves,
entrenched in the idiocy
of egotism’s swamp.
Removed from the realm
of reality’s wretchedness
they sashay about throwing
other peoples coins
into the wishing wells
of beggar’s dreams.
They dine within hearing
of the rumbling bellies
of the hungry, the shuffling
footsteps of the homeless,
the emptiness of the addicts
desperation, discussing “programs”
and “initiatives”, form “committees”
to “study” the “problem”.
The nation is on the operating table
and they, the “doctors”
will walk out of the “operating” room
for a six week “recess”.
Most of those they claim
to represent haven’t had “recess”
since the fourth grade.
And “We the people”
put up with it,
are responsible for it
for we have become
a mindless rabble
clawing at each other
fighting over the table scraps
thankful for a band-aid
waiting to catch a glimpse
of the “Royal Court” and its
niggardly“ courtesans.
7/31/2017
submitted to – POLLY IN POLITICS – Poetry Contest
Enticing ...
Pharaoh pleasure shivers with orgasmic anticipation
of the coming attraction:
Big Caesar Palace grand entertainment fit for a king
In his granite heart, the king of Egypt laughs:
Two old men gon overthrow me,
and set my slaves free ...
Hebrew please!
His tricky magicians, they were the best —
they were Sodom-approved: Lewd dudes
who dung dealt from the bottom of the deck
Those mystics could perform acts,
that you don’t dare let your children do
Pharaoh was moaning
with sheer inner delight
at the lavish debauchery spectacle
planned that night
King Kru-el was gonna show that peasant God,
a piece of Pharaoh’s might
Mocking old men would give his royal court
a delectable treat of public humiliation
Shame that man Moses
for talking foolishly ... his slave God
gon dethrone me ...
Philistine please!
Pharaoh felt the heat of the sweet anger rising
within his cold heart, vowing:
I’m gon chariot drag Moses’ weak God
into the Red Sea
And them Hebrew slaves
gon always serve me
I ain’t setting my cattle free ... I’m gon always cull,
pick and eat from my Goshen sheep
They ain’t never gon know nothing
but bitter slavery
Me Pharaoh not letting one of them lambs skip scot-free
I’m the master of the whip and chain,
freedom talk gon get you dungeon pain
Deliverer whispers are utterly insane ... crazy
Ethiopian please!
Then Pharaoh moaned
with untouched ecstasy,
at the thought
that he alone was God only
Let's celebrate Lei day today
In pageants with a King and Queen
In flowers of each island's hue
A day in which we extol spring.
A day of Aloha's spirit
Where music's shared in hula dance.
Children wear each island's colors
In long satin gowns that enhance
The royal court displayed in schools
That's honored the Hawaiian way.
Let us not forget the May pole
Of other lands on our Lei day.
Take this garland of sweet flowers
Please wear it 'round your neck with pride.
Let us capture the Aloha spirit
Of love in which we all abide.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Happy May Day and Lei Day to everyone!
Note: On May first...May Day is known in Hawaii as
Lei Day. It is a celebration of Hawaiian culture, or the aloha spirit. People commonly celebrate by giving gifts of leis to one another. Schools also put on plays[2] and elect a Lei Day court of Kings and Queens to represent the different islands.[3] Each island has its own symbol that is composed of a color and a flower. Hawaii (the big island) is red, Maui is pink, Oahu is yellow, Molokai is green, Lanai is orange, Kahoolawe is gray, Kauai is purple, and Niihau is white. In the same order the flowers are lehua, lokelani, 'ilima, kukui, kauna'oa, hinahina, mokihana, and a pupu shell. Niihau is the only island without a plant as its symbol. The link below has more information about Lei Day.
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lei_Day
Maidens, bloody maidens, I had me six of ‘em wenches, ye knowest
Fullsome Catherine of Aragon wrought havoc ‘tween me and the Pope
Besought a divorce, split from the church whilst Anne Boleyn caught mine eye
'Twas beheaded whenst in ‘er capacity to produce a male heir I lost hope
Mine affection waxed for Jane Seymour; I beseeched ‘er t’ marry me
Anne’s body not yet cold in the ground whenst Jane became mine queen
But after giving me a son, Jane withered, twas gone in two weeks
For ‘er I mourned two years, afore proposing to Anne of Cleves
Ye knowest this “Flanders Mare” twas not suited for mine royal court
Nay, ‘er domestic skills tweren’t becoming of a stately king’s wife
At mine auld age of 49, I grew enamored of young Kathryn Howard
She but 19 when I divorced Anne and beseeched ‘er t’ share mine life
But Kathryn had eyes for other blokes, made me look like a pompous joke
"Thou dost not deserve thine title," I declared, had ‘er executed
Twice widowed at the age of 31, Katherine Parr I settled for
This wench cared for me as I grew ill, thus is undisputed
Prithee t’ see after six attempts, I finally met mine match
Katherine inherited mine throne once mine body twas laid t’ rest
From heaven I look back fondly at mine spirited days of yore
Knowing that in a regal sense mine first wife twas truly mine best
* For Lisa Cooper’s “I Want Some Old English Scandal” contest