Long Shalott Poems
Long Shalott Poems. Below are the most popular long Shalott by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shalott poems by poem length and keyword.
Two young lovers in wakeful bed,
Love-talking after they were wed,
His arm a pillow for her head,
Remembered words, poetry said,
Old tales retold of Camelot.
Learned the artistic jewel
Years before in grammar school;
Unwinding reflection's spool
Envisioning Shalott.
Their lifetimes, year by year, went by,
Four babies came, sweet lullabies,
Sometimes laughter, sometimes sad cries;
Were they just two lone passers by
Lost on the way to Camelot?
I, their last child, was not aware
Of private bedroom life shared;
He whispering in her hair
Of life in fair Shalott.
My father died, he slipped away,
She lingered, telling love's sweet ways.
Impromptu, she relates one day
Of blissful nights hearing him say
Sleepy accounts of Camelot.
There are two narrow graveyard plots,
Gray stone marked with lover's knot;
Someday time will give no thought
Of them or of Shalott.
I, myself, am much older grown,
Allotted years are nearly flown;
When I lie down beneath the loam
Will I hear his soft spoken tones
Repeat the dream of Camelot?
Near by me in that next tight tomb,
Close-walled, speaking in the gloom,
Echoes reaching as he croons
The Lady of Shalott?
Copyright, August 17, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
Eyes of the ancients, wise and unchanging,
Silken strands fall and flow upon the warmth of the thriving lines of youth.
The warmth of life and love abounding an soaring with the four winds,
And the remembrance of old wounds healed but not forgotten,
For the heart hides all from the world, though one may still see within.
Emotions and memories untamed, burning passions and desires take flight beyond the heavens,
Though the soul remains unyielding, unwaning, caught in the trap of time and yet immortality.
A childs laughter breaks the darkness and the world awakens to the beating of a yearning heart,
And the future is laid before you without hinderance, caught up in the wild abandonment of your fear.
Earthly shackles are thus loosed from a loving hopeful spirit; that of which no man or God holds sway.
For your soul is that of the untamed, restless essence of shalott and aphrodite, endless as the burning depths of the sun,
Though this heart be tender, she is not scathed or tormented by the demons of her yesteryears; they are crushed beneath her silhouette,
To find love and hold on until death; unto the childs smile she remains steadfast; she is an ancient goddess of the world unknown,
You, who are without need of mortal man, that you may find your joy within the grasp of the time laid before you,
You, who were, are still, and will remain the rock, the lover, friend, mother, daughter, without ceasing and abounding in love as vast as the sea,
And shall be forever beneath the stars dwelling among humanity until the end of time.
Darkened Doorways
He’d walked this trail in dreams before
sniffed hungrily at each locked door
across the country shore to shore
from rocky coasts to mountains core
felt the populations sigh
huddling in fear of breaking dawns
their children used as rulers pawns
white crosses dotting barren lawns
while grieving mothers slowly die.
Although he saw the sadness grow
he walked no faster, nor more slow
for it was not his job to know
which way the fatal wind might blow
just march in flowing cape of black
cast his shadow on their fate
unmindful of their time or date
or those who stand alone and wait
nor count the ones not coming back.
For he alone with sharpened scythe
carries his darkness through the light
that cries to those in spirits fright
in tunnel visions final sight
dimming the light of then and now
erasing all that might have been
forgiving all of final sin
that death will someday lose, not win
death’s scythe and cape take final bow.
for Isaiah Zerbst - The Lady of Shalott – Poetry contest
9/9/2014
I unchain the caged darkness
to surrender willingly,
taste the warm, wet drips
of liquefied lament and life
tracing the cold cracks
within bruised veins
kissing patiently the searing surge
of anxiety caging and clawing
the pulse of pain-struck peace
the flesh beneath
the fragility of hope ~
purging the siren’s poison
of Beelzebub’s breath
love-drunk on dangerous desire
christening the mayhem devotion
carving temples from tempests
as the needles wake me to
a reality romanticized with nails ~
O reaper ... my beloved knight
aching to seize my light
fool me once more
seduce the stars
without a script
lure the lake of night
stripped of pretense
for I am your eternal flame
this heart, a mausoleum of
cremated calmness
and skeptical skeletons
a panoramic capture
of insanity unforgiven…
listen as the clouds spill
a thousand secrets
follow the shadow
of me and my truth
watch my skies abandon
the beautiful lies
I once worshipped ~
as I am now one amongst
the survivors of hearts I broke
while trying not to break,
the ruthless rhythm
of the game of musical chairs;
only the ones
who ran could chase ~
a memory condemned
as the cardinal sin ~
an alluring curse
damned with
Lilith’s signature, evermore…
Awake on a numb dark night he wonders--
tired cells of his existence blazing
on fiery topanga in crushed slumber.
Anxious, chained, gasping at barriers
of individuality or a species that contain
appeasements in layered singularities
or contradictions in linear multitudes.
He drags himself to a paraphernalia,
his search for conquests shivers
in tangled cobwebs his fingers dance
to grand designs of his fantasies.
Oh! how he habitually gets drenched
in warm showers of colliding galaxies,
exploding curses of humanity in hammock,
Aesop's fables plagued in sloth.
His trembling raptures of oceans azure
send chills down the spine of raging coal.
Elevators of his dark realities push him
to take a fall as the Lady of Shalott
atop old cliff of his clueless journeys,
burning mankind, wars, paranoia but wait--
blurred visions of forgotten land arise,
painted from a million oscillations in cosmos,
unwritten pages of blood red stories
crushed and absorbed in soils of time,
simmered to seeds of hopes in his mind--
his fingers dance to tunes of a faint voice,
a dead soul sings amid a snowstorm,
'Oh come crushed souls, let's sleep tonight,
tomorrow you'll squeeze some lost hope in light'.
June 16, 2020
CRUSHED Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
~Premiere Contest Winner: 9th Place
I look towards the foaming sea
The clouds go by, the wind runs free
I stand upon the tremblin’ quay
And wonder now where you could be
I call your name but all in vain.
The crashing waves encroach the land
Never will I hold your hand
It is hard to understand
I am in tears and pain.
Hark, he cometh on sturdy steed
Sir Lancelot, I must concede
Would surely fill this empty need
His gentleness, of tender breed
Perhaps he'll cast his eyes on me.
Fair Guinevere had caught his eye
Though he left her with a sigh
As the king was standing nigh
Behold me; I am free.
---------------------------------------------------------
22nd August 2014
A Collaboration ~ Paul Callus & Carolyn Devonshire
Contest: The Lady of Shalott
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Placing: 1st
"50 Words for Poe: Doppleganger"
Dearest Lily,
It has been some months now that you have been Silent
there has been an episode at the Asylum
I wander how you fare.
Fox Glove has escaped this time
in the season of heat,
when July passed,
another replaces her cell -
they call him the
Terror Fell
Scary as Hell.
I shall forever be in your debt
your letters enthralled me, kept me wet.
My task is to monitor them all,
this is not over yet
not by a long shot
over yet.
Sickert has asked me to tea,
says he wants to muse me.
I do worry about you -
is your favourite colour,
still vibrant?
You know,
that purest shade of
Mary Mother of God Blue?
Truly, I do worry what has become of you.
Wolf is on the run
and there is the question
asked in blood –
a payment of debt
which, as you know,
is never any fun.
Out in the cold again, I fear,
no point to fret, is there my dear?
The patients place their bets.
The keepers hold their threats.
Do contact me soon.
I am over
the sad cyrpt-kept buffoons.
Yours always,
forever,
not wearing Blue.
then again, in the end,
no fair weather friend -
well, in the circumstances,
the very warmest,
the very kindest,
let's put all that shizz behind us,
regards...
You-Know-Who,
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r21Qza6vadU
Garbage/Bleed Like Me
“And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two:
She hath no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.
But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often thro' the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, came from Camelot:
Or when the moon was overhead
Came two young lovers lately wed;
'I am half sick of shadows,' said
The Lady of Shalott.”
Do you like me for my form
And my cosmetic moments
With their conceits and affectations,
Bejewelled with glittering gewgaws,
Hinting at the scents of summer,
All show but no substance,
Holding back the acrid stench of death?
For you ,my beauty is but word deep.
Perhaps you see in me your soulmate,
Reflecting what you inwardly believe,
Allowing you to remain in your comfort zone,
Safe from all challenge
And the barbs of pointed criticism.
Secure your world stands
As long as you do not look behind
Or beyond horizons that hold you bound.
Or are you just a voyeur
Sailing on the seas of sensation
Living your life vicariously
To avoid precariously
What you dare not,
Rather like the lady of Shalott,
Reading life through someone else's mirror
To save your soul?
Maybe you do look deeper
To see where we differ.
Confident in your own skin
You are ready for new terrain,
Awkward and stumbling though that may be.
You look before you leap
But forge fearlessly forward,
Willing to face all that lies ahead.
Be all that as it may,
I am but a poor poem,
Taking my existence
from you, the reader.
That is my fate.
Begotten,not made,ugly by my creator,
Accepting myself for what I am,
Yet I am fully at your disposal or neglect.
"The Psychopomp’s Embrace"
No judgement
from the fallen
unseen angels
credited
with scores to
safely harbour
lost passing ships
that crush souls
in dark night
ferrying love
the precious token
of graces sorely paid,
the return, a prayer
for the wild at heart
kept in cages
delivered
by the
sublime
in misty
stages
rushing across
deep reflective pools
like hushed mirrors
echo tears
that drop
like pearls
embroidered
on the satin lips
warmth like
watered ink
slowly seeping,
the coolness
softly touched
by a burning kiss
drinking recompense
in, forever in,
across a blank unlit canvas
then, without warning,
upward motion the
darkness kisses closed
the windows
on those sleepwalking
suede convincing eyelids,
no time to speak
no more talking
crushed violets
and silver ultra
messages marked
by unseen fingers
walking along the
cool satin plains
of a throat that
no longer sings
nor breathes
but allows
escape for
revenant
soul to live,
to spark
an aura turns
inward
to embrace
the dark
Psychopomp’s Grace
and through the
mirrors lost
knights come
riding through
two and two
the higher self,
shatters the mirror
leaves the web
leaves the loom
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Psychopomp” / The Tea Party
https://youtu.be/qX860oJo6Yc
“Distant singing is heard.
Ghostly voices become audible:
fragments of lectures remembered,
the finely distilled wisdom and passion
of seers and poets
with which the modern young mind
is tempered for the world that blows it to pieces.”
Tennessee Williams, Stairs to the Roof
Psychopomp
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psychopomp
"The Lady of Shalott"
Alfred Lord Tennyson, 1832
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45359/the-lady-of-shalott-1832
"A Prayer for the Wild at Heart"
Tennessee Williams
https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/691414-stairs-to-the-roof
"Month Through"/ XavieRinato, 15 Dec 2010
Silver Grass Perfume
https://youtu.be/ZJ65vWmHDRU
Fire kissed you lay your ivory skin aglow
beneath the gaslight from the cheery floral globe
marooned in innocence he died not long ago
and left you to wear a ring and coal black robes.
Drained of emotion, still as death but in repose
beneath the gaslight from the cheery floral globe
you rest. Your ruddy cheeks the firelight bestowed
a vigor your weary heart can no longer hold.
Drained of emotion, still as death but in repose,
the shadows soften, pearl your skin, highlight the gold
in waves your silken tresses fall, their flow shows
a vigor your weary heart can no longer hold.
So like the Lady of Shalott, she's indisposed
for like Ophelia white as bone on a chaise she lays,
in waves your silken tresses fall, their flow shows
that sunshine kissed your crown oft on better days.
Let her not wake, we need no words to see her pain
for like Ophelia white as bone on a chaise she lays,
her heartbeat slows, his wraith goes, all's been in vain.