Long Steed Poems
Long Steed Poems. Below are the most popular long Steed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Steed poems by poem length and keyword.
Time is but a fleeting moment for us...
Brief seconds in the Universe's life
The flash of a Nebula's awakening
The implosion of a high mass star.
We are but well traveled solo ghosts
floating in and out across barren lands
struggling between the trees of our existence
floating softly across life's impoverished sands.
We are but tough Adventurers
Following no one else's lead
We carry with us our knowledge
We ourselves are our trusted steed.
We are but secret lover's
Making love to ourselves and what we do
Having passion for only what is in us
Only knowing our own truths.
We are but our own creators
We create that of which we are
We can choose to hide our brightness
Or we can light the way like the sky's brightest star.
(January 1, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2010 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved,
I saw him as a vision
Proudly standing by the tree
Nostrils flared
Head held high
His luminous eyes
Like deep oceans
Glistened with excitement
Beckoning me to him
Each leg apart
He stood with pride
His mane flowing
Like ripe corn in the wind
I touched him gently
He moved towards me
The smell of him
Upliftin my spirits
I mounted him
My thighs caressing
The velvety flesh
My hands holding his silken mane
We galloped together
Swift as the wind
My steed and me
In perfect harmony.
By-Tahera Mannan
The theme selected- Horses
For the contest 'Horses or snowflakes or horses and snowflakes'
Sponsored by-Constance~A Rambling Poet~
Mountain
No sherpa, rope
Or faithful steed
In stocking feet
I do proceed
Each day I climb
Relentless slope
To rest my weary head
And hope
That once the peak
Of my desire
To elevated place
Aspire
Concludes.
No flag or
Selfie pose will take
No Instagram.
No front page stake.
Just me.
To hear the lost applause
Of decades climbing
For the cause
And when the final
Bell tolls here..
The challenge ends.
The final year.
My human vehicle
Now kaput
The mode of transport
No sock dressed foot
My rationale
I will defend
As heaven's stairs
Now, I ascend
The greatest mission
Has to start..
An expedition
Of the heart
Jinjagoliath
13th April 2023
Tiana used to brag that she could tame the ferocious striped beasts.
Common villagers laughed at the small girl with the all-knowing blue eyes.
Until she marched into their lair and came out alive, riding one of their cubs.
Clovershire was full of people who were afraid of Tiana’s mystical ways.
Now they were terrified of her, and her steed, a gallivanting frisky tiger.
And she was only ten years old.
Tiana and her tiger were soon battle trained with the knights.
No girl had ever done this until now, but King Virgil saw the true Tiana
For who she really was, and he wanted her to have the best ammunition.
Few knew that her birth had been forecasted in his main prophet Sai’s dreams.
None would have believed that King Virgil had been expecting her,
or that he dabbled in sorcery and magic.
Tiana became the fiercest combatant in Clovershire’s
history of battles and wars, slashing her way across bloody meadows.
Leaving deceased rival villagers hither and yon in pieces.
Villagers still tell the tale of Warrior Tiger Woman
none realizing she had been imagined and created by Sai and a warlock
twenty years before they could conjure her up, and present her to King Virgil.
Visualization is a powerful tool of mystics and sages.
Upon my mighty horse I’ll ride, deep into oblivion.
Together through the gusty wind, my steed and I shall ride.
Onward pushing, no time for fear or pain.
Make way before we trample down the trees and mountains ahead.
We’ll fight until the ground is flat.
No one can stop us now!
Who shall stand before my strength?
Be trampled all ye evil!
We shall push, and fight, but still…
… My steed and I shall travel.
Onward, inward, farther we go deep into the hell.
My friend and I shall not fear the ugliness of truth.
Bitterness is among the demons, scattering them are we.
Together my steed and I shall bring forth the evil of men.
Evil stand your trial!
Innocence is gone!
Hide not your horrors from the truth…
… For my steed and I are justice!
Ye shall pay the price!
My steed and I are justice…
(Written in 1977, my first poem in the school literary magazine. Possibly my first poem ever. )
COAT OF ARMS
Last night I couldn't sleep,for thinking only you...
As I wrapped in warm embrace, your spirit tinted blue
To oust away thine pangs, in hopes to see thee smile...
I'll yoke ye 'pon my shoulders, to carry through this mile
To trade your tears of sorrow, and see them shed in joy...
I'd jest for thine amusement, and be your favorite toy
For thine malady been expelled, I'd invoke it banished 'way...
Taking it 'pon mine self, so you've strength to seize th' day
Though I'm not an king, nor prince 'pon ivory steed...
Th' possessions I've procured here, are thine if felt th' need
I'll sweep thee off thy feet, if not familiar with th' waltz...
To breathe ye 'cross th' ballroom, as an feather floating 'loft
Mark mine words I state here, and hold me to their true...
I'll prove I 'steem thee precious, as unfeigned I surely do
Just promise me one thing, that next time when your down...
You'll wear these words as armor, 'til I mend thy broken crown
?Randall ('~A~')zaza Martin
a.k.a. "Thunderwolf'69" ??????
A retelling of Longfellow’s The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere
Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride too long unclear,
Not one lone horseman through April’s gloom,
But three who galloped with freedom’s doom.
On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five,
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers well that fateful quest,
When liberty’s riders rode out to the west.
He said to his friends, “The signal’s near,
One if by land, and two if by sea;
And I on the road will be ready to ride,
To wake the towns through the countryside.”
Then Dawes took saddle, a westward track,
While Revere turned north and didn’t look back;
And Prescott, waiting, would join before dawn,
When the British patrols pressed fierce and strong.
A friend in the belfry, tall and still,
Hung the lanterns high on the hill.
Two lights gleamed from the church’s tower,
And the riders were off in that midnight hour.
Through Charlestown streets the hoofbeats rang,
Past Medford farmsteads the summons sang,
Till window and door flew open wide.
“Up, ye farmers, awake!” they cried.
“Arm and gather, for war draws near!
The Regulars march with sword and spear!”
And the country folk, startled from bed,
Seized their muskets with faces red.
But lurking in darkness, the redcoats came,
A mounted patrol to end the flame;
And Revere was taken, his journey stayed,
Though bravely and loudly, the call he made.
Yet Dawes broke free with his steed still fast,
By wood and meadow the night he passed;
While Prescott vaulted the orchard wall,
His horse leapt high and out sped them all.
Onward he sped through Concord’s gate,
Shouting the word before ’twas too late:
“The soldiers are marching, the foe is near!
To arms! To arms! The time is here!”
From lantern’s glow to the farmyard’s cry,
The news went racing, mile on mile;
And farmers gathered with powder dry,
Their hearts aflame, their spirits high.
So when at the bridge the dawn was red,
And the first shots of the war were sped,
’It was Dawes and Prescott, whose midnight quest
Had summoned the people from east to west.
Therefore, my children, remember well,
The truth of the tale that history tells:
Not Revere alone through the dark he rode,
But Dawes and Prescott, who bore the load.
By Rick McGrath, Ph.D.
With enlightenment, not inhalation,
drawn from Jefferson Airplane's (Starship?) 'White Rabbit.'
(written by Grace Slick)
A Monotetra ~
Don't be drawn into that fairytale
with the Cheshire Cat's grin and tail
He'll lure you in and leave you frail
To weep and wail To weep and wail
If you're in the Red Queen's palace
Don't sip wine from her gold chalice
Her evil thoughts reek of malice
Go ask Alice Go ask Alice
You look weak, skin sallow and pall
Your White Knight's steed is in a stall
Alice won't save you when you fall
She's ten feet tall She's ten feet tall
Don't chase white rabbits down a hole
Deep descent will devour your soul
It's time to wake and take control
Don't pay the toll Don't pay the toll
A sword of the heavens did glean
From railings and arbors
of dead thorn and bramble,
where ghostly reminders remain
Fall droplets of blood ‘pon
a crimson embroider
left carelessly out in the rain
Our story begins
in a deep mountain valley,
a village so peaceful and free
When one day the darkness
did unsheathe its horror
with metal and death you will see
The army of Satan,
a wicked battalion,
Hell’s fire their sabers were forged
Dark Skeletal visions
in leather and armor
the depths of the earth had been gorged
With razor sharp weapons,
they slashed and delivered
such pain which had never been found
Through echoes of pleading
and lives quickly ending
in puddles, thick red on the ground
While women and children
were herded like cattle
in mass to the edge of the square
With onyx eyes leering,
midst snickers and cackles,
their captors insanely did stare
When on the horizon
a light brightly shining,
engulfing this nightmarish scene
A porcelain stallion,
its rider a shadow,
a sword of the heavens did glean
From steel hard as granite,
angelic depictions,
a handle of pure solid gold
Once heard in a fable,
when wizards were roaming
such power, the stories foretold
As swift as an arrow
he entered the village,
his steed all at one with the game
With blade silver glistened,
like lightning bolts flashing,
igniting a righteous born flame
Spinning and thrusting
as if a tornado,
a blur now incensed of the glow
With whirlwind fury
and dust clouded thunder,
he dealt them a terrible blow
The evil fueled army,
beheaded and fallen,
the villagers shouted and cheered
When to their amazement,
this heroic savior
as quick as he’d come, disappeared
So there is the story,
a sword made in heaven
is now part of history’s reign
Along with the rider
who wielded its honor,
and hopes he will come back again
9/13/18
Written for the UNSHEATH YOUR SWORD Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
Mists show vaporous idiosyncrasies
emotionless crying
over the essence of the dull sky,
same as a gentle walking unsophisticated steed
embrace a forceful nature,
delicate yet totally vulnerable
With the onset of twilight
the impiety appeared to be oddly astounding,
there was no witless snarl
and it's a smooth tone,
predawn conceals
quell the loco share of color moods,
Starlings rewind their impeccable wings,
early mooring paths for a sailboat
through wildly shifting flights,
a measurement for rating sight
for slowed down dreamers
When it got dull
fall into the stream
In a swarm of happy tones,
utterance grows softer and deeper
Grin impersonates amazing harmony
marks the epilog of a tranquil day
the gleam of the evening,
woven into an unending blanket
Inward supplications
go to close justifications
as the embedded kiss creates
everlasting recognition,
apex moans calmed the room
for a couple of moments,
underneath a shelter of trapped gems
Written: September 16, 2022
BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand