Long Sceptre Poems
Long Sceptre Poems. Below are the most popular long Sceptre by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sceptre poems by poem length and keyword.
In that similitude of spirit and gaze
I see much in you that you see in me,
for in me are your Arthurian ways -
old man, I am your son and proud to be.
In the dark days and darker nights of us
when the Angel of Death entered our home,
father, I saw in you a map and compass
but I was lost and destined to roam.
For in that we are all a vassal to age
no sceptre or mitre can set us free,
and no fealty can old time assuage
or rail against its synchronicity.
So it is in the time of tide and flow
between us there was ebb and distance,
yet I know I will miss you when you go
and hold dear the tides of least resistance.
Truly ever decreasing circles besot
the cognisance of what and who we are,
yet I am not fogged to what time begot
but wise to your end and your exemplar.
Wise to our earthly labours and pleasure,
and all that was ventured and lost or won
for insofar love is the true measure
I shall be its keeper when you are gone.
I have a son, and love him more I can’t -
he in time might forget you but I shan’t.
Alas, no mortal thing this world outlast
yet still the risen sun your shadow cast.
Written: October 2004
Ere Dawn resumed her immemorial trust,
And vested earth with its hereditary fire,
A quiet ordinance, older far than light,
Passed through creation's unrecorded choir.
No seraph stirred.
No sceptre changed its hand.
Only possession loosed its last command.
The cedar kept its patriarchal shade;
The river held its testament to sea;
The stars maintained their sacerdotal watch,
Yet none rehearsed the grammar of the free.
Each thing fulfilled
Its undisputed part,
Without one covenant of "mine" at heart.
Then at the vesper table, long made holy
By homely fidelities no years could sever,
She brake the loaf, prepared the waiting bowl,
And reached to serve her absent love as ever.
Her hand grew still—
For love, at length made whole,
Could not distinguish giver from the bowl.
Then Light, divested of all need to shine,
Found every soul had always been its own.
(Elizabeth II 1926-2022)
Are we - crow, blackbird, sparrow -
aware of what's occurring?
We cannot tell, they assume,
but gape and gaze from up here.
This is a land with a departed monarch.
We - sparrow, blackbird, crow -
flit or sit above the richness
of that marching red regalia.
Thousands of arms stretch, sinews strain,
cameras are held aloft
to catch the start of this queen's obsequies,
such elegance, such grace.
We - blackbird, crow, sparrow -
observe orb and sceptre on the magnificent pall,
witness the splendour, the spectacle,
delight in the sound of vocal souls.
Millions have viewed that coffin.
We - crow, blackbird, sparrow - see them gaping, gazing,
with its eight pallbearers, in their blood-red flame,
as this Abbey welcomes what they carry.
(Sep 2022)
(You may wish to see also "Trooping the Colour" of June 2022 and "Coronation for a King" of May 2023)
Script for a Jester’s Fears
The jokester smiles from below her joke another yoke lifted
into fears unbeknown to the mesmerized delirious crowd
A gathering of lonely forsaken shadows pretending the light
sheds roars of laughter jingles in sad comedy misses the pun
They scribe distance together in vacuum cannot feel joyful void
beauty of reflected nothingness escapes the audience’s grasp
Distressed trepidation rests in the clamorous jester’s charade
sceptre swings to the pulse of tambourine rescues the bells
‘I can do this once more and for all’ she convinces her mask
‘I may crush my persona for no one to see’ grimace or not
Slowly the makeup melts and soothes blisters of wisdom
reveals prudence in insight condenses parabolic acumen
Fool’s cap captures the moment choreography fades true to
the nature of being when a genuine smile dispels humorous guise
25th April 2017
If your'e going to preach it brother.? Hit-em with the Gospel
For its like no other; Spell' Speak of mercy..And the flames of hell' and ring out the message like a ten ton bell.' Tell the truth
'The world is round' like Isaiah shouted.' He really went to
Town.' Also the village for that to matters.' No doubt giving
The matrons a feast of natters.' Yes tell of the King! With a
Sceptre of iron.' Ruler of Nations the one so much better,' by
Leaps and leauges.' Yet a donkey His steed! the pharisees bane.' He allowed them to keep their greeds.' Yes preach of
Life and tbe riches of God.' To all those destined to go under
The sod.' Some clerics may repent.?To turn away? from the
Gasp-ell of death they gasp out today.' Nothing is new as
Solomon put.' Just whitewashed tombs on top thats it.' The
Bones of this matter.' Wont be raised at all.' Who have gasp-ed
Out the message of slavery and thrall.' Its hotter than this
Poem.'The place they must go.' If you don't want to join them 'just let Jesus know.'
KINGS WITH DIFFERENT CROWNS
The crowns may be different,
We're both Kings, not just in the present
But in the world to come
And we will weather every storm.
In a world where crowns adorn our heads,
Some gleaming gold, scattered on their beds,
Others breaming bright and pure red.
Even if something or nothing was said,
We reign & radiate royalty to the core.
Your crown might be a weapon of war,
Mine is of peace but towering as a wall
Your crown battles hard & fight solo,
My crown builds armies ready to follow
And die to live for the battle course.
Your lineage & specie aren't one of us;
Tho different kingdoms, different reigns,
Yet intertwined, our blood still stains.
For you may wear a crown of gold,
Sitting high on the throne, noble and bold,
With subjects bowing, hearts filled with pride,
I stride majestically in the wild,
Crown towers high into the heavens
Like mighty pillars shaped into horns
And the jungle warriors shy off my paths.
Your tender heart made you an empath,
The sceptre made me rigid and riotous
But we both rose highest as conquerors.
The crowns may be different
We're both Kings not just in the present
But in the world to come despite the outcomes.
We're kings from different kingdoms.³¹
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright ©? November 2023.
Hey there, I am known as fear
I'm pleased to see ya here
I'ma bout to switch the gear
It's game on mode from now, I fear
There's no escape,so stay near
get used to smell of fear all year
No need to hide in there my dear
Don't crawl under your bed in fear
bear with me while I get the air
in here clear
In this sphere drear and cheer
tend to enjoy the stage they share
Here, come in and lend me your ear,
if it bodes well with you we'll cohere
bend a knee and lean in, I'll steer
I hear, your lover ditched you for a beer
with a peer who admired his spear, then threw your way a drunken leer
oh my what a farce, heard you even shed a tear
When panic reared its ugly head with a sneer
Got you sizzling, hot enough to sear
Your poise chose to hide away at the rear
Face it, for now you're stuck with me fear
In an unlikely pairing we both failed to avoid
an airing of our fears will most likely follow to fill the void
We're both dread this feat we have to attempt
tempting as it may be to be devoid of all joy
I feel your heart we'll somehow fill with fearsome fun
Plenty awesome stuff we'll do together as one
But first of all entice your fears to fess up
Allow them space to evolve and rise up
Don't feed into the need to allow your fear to fester
With a firm stance assert your place at the helm
As one who thrives on challenge, you'll rule your realm unfazed
A bold creator and master of your own fate, you'll raise the sceptre
Then I, fear your faithful ally will step up
to set up a tasteful plate, pleasing to the palate
It will be ours to enjoy and share
Hearts full of cheer
At last, free from fear
Form:
I would say off with their heads
the queen’s evil cousin said
Lawanda, the queen kept mum
sometimes her cuz could speak rather dumb
you should have edicts, make them eat cake
said her brother, whose marriage did not take
the queen mother had oodles of advice too
give them the raspberry, throw them a shoe
the queen had no idea the trouble she would see
when she was in power and could write a decree
Be kind to each other, be generous and fair.
She wrote it out and waved her wand in the air
What about power? Don’t you want to be in charge?
This idiotic idea was issued to her by her Aunt Marge.
I want to have a kingdom that is full of people who care.
So saying, the queen twirled her sceptre in the air
Not in the sanguine ordinance of the heart, nor in the fugitive embassy of breath, but in that inviolate interval where succession relinquishes its crown, Love keeps its unspoken dominion.
Who schooled the blood in scarlet mysteries,
Or taught the clay such inward majesty?
Not flesh, whose borrowed splendours fade like seas
When Time withdraws its ancient sovereignty;
But that concealed and antecedent fire
Whose silence outlives every mortal choir.
I passed beyond the ivory walls of bone,
Where marrow held a vigil without name;
Where things forgotten before they were known
Lay folded in an immemorial flame;
And there the dark, unburdened of disguise,
Looked through my soul with uncreated eyes.
The heart, that bronze confessor of the dust,
Raised its twin thunder toward the vault of years;
One stroke proclaimed the visible world to trust,
The next dissolved beyond the reach of spheres;
And in that breathless cleft between the two,
Eternity remembered what we knew.
There Chronos laid his sceptre in the sand,
And Number lost the kingdom it had won;
The stars grew still beneath an older hand,
As night confessed the labour of the sun;
For Being, stripped of all its borrowed art,
Returned to the silence beneath the heart.
Then came the vision reason could not bind:
A shadowless bird passed through a mountain’s core;
No wound remained upon the adamant mind
Of stone that had endured the world before;
Yet from its depths there trembled into air
A song that no created throat could bear.
Then I beheld what no decree could prove:
Love was not flame, nor breath, nor mortal claim;
It was the interval where all things move
Before they enter form and take a name;
The hidden mercy no beginning owns,
The pulse between the marrow and the stones.
WANTED
Vick The King Solomon,
Trinity of creativity soul in one,
"Ade" is the crown that gives sceptre to Royalty,
Royalty is to kingship but fails without wisdom
And wisdom of King Solomon lives on in this kingdom.
The gravity of such embellishment lies
In creativity & fast becoming the cynosure of all eyes.
I won't be submerged in endless triumph of wise fools
Cos the fool that is loosed is now the man on the loose
Who stole the mind of a ready writer
The world watches what you're running after
But your prayer makes you a player
In the race of life you were once a stranger,
Mighty tanks crows in pyre wood smoke clouds
But by the world's savvy all sink and drowns
Instead of sticking to the world's expectations
But stealing souls for the price of the high calling stations
Is the crime that warrants world's condemnations,
Divine wisdom your nothingness
Instead, your ultimate intelligence
To the world watching the wanted
This has to be divine ignorance effected,
To the best of my knowledge, for instance
Is the degree of my known ignorance.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright ©30th April, 2018.