Long Templar Poems
Long Templar Poems. Below are the most popular long Templar by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Templar poems by poem length and keyword.
The dream when the moon sneaks in my room,
I feel it in my heart and soul.
I see the red string floating, guiding, leading me away.
I'm walking, searching, looking when,
I hear the ocean calling,
Leading me to a mystical cave.
I see it as I enter,
That one look takes my breath away.
All I see is red.
A beautiful woman in a red dress and,
She holds a red scarf in one hand and,
A golden crown in the other.
I see this mural on the wall,
Like a hidden secret.
Then I see another of soldiers kneeling in,
In white tunics with a bright red cross,
These Knights Templar raise their swords,
Offering their allegiance.
Who is she, and who brought me here?
I wake up seeing that red scarf in my chair.
I smile, saying, now the real mystery begins.
Dirt covered through the ages,
Showing hidden lines,
Into grooved stone fossils.
They guide us into history,
By the cradle of time,
At the beginning where it all started.
When man was a drop of water,
In a pool of the great river.
They say the great river that separates,
Good from evil where men buried riches.
Where they moved mountains in order to hide history,
From all trying to destroy it.
He tells the stories, yet no one listens.
They have no heart no vision and,
No knowledge of what was,
Only trying to find the amber lost in the hills.
The amber is forever lost to the heart of man.
Only the greed of the ancients is cursed.
They have no heart.
They do not see the history.
They want to destroy it.
There is a secret society,
Known as the "Knights Templar."
They keep it hidden away from those,
Trying to destroy history.
The amber.
The light.
It is forever guarded by the many descendants,
Of the Knights Templar.
Their watch is never over.
July 22, 2011
A sea of flowers and candles grew outside the Cathedral
- in total 15 tons
Solidarity, an unbreakable bond of care, democracy
Terrorist attack, 77 people died
grotesque images on the retina
Sound of gunshots and desperate screams
The killers ideology
referred to himself as "A Templar knight"
Artists Tobbe Malm and Tone Karlsrud
invite blacksmiths from all over the world
to forge roses in iron as a memorial
People acted spontaneously
Grief was wrought in iron
"The iron roses" ... the abyss sea
will always remind us of all those we lost
"Hidden in heaven, but never forgotten"
Another Day's Upon Us
By Franklin Price
7/13/2018
Another day's upon us
It's the thirteenth of July
Another bad luck Friday
Did you ever wonder why?
Paraskevidekatriaphobia
If you fear it it's name
Derived, as usual from the Greek
How psychiatrics play the game
Friggatriskaidekaphobia also
Norwegian goddess is to blame
In English she's the reason
She's where Friday got it's name
But I've digressed as usual
Where is this bad luck coming from?
I'm now about to tell you
Did not start this poem for fun
If you want a modern reference
Read “The Da Vinci Code”
The Knights Templar unlucky
As they traveled down the road
Friday, October thirteenth
Thirteen oh seven was the year
The Knights Templar were arrested
By the king of France, oh dear!
It wasn't lucky for the knights
Off came their heads with sword
That Friday was unlucky
More than the the knights then could afford
If you wonder where I found this
Well I found it on the net
Wikipedia was the source
I Google searched it, you can bet
If interested you should go there
There's much more for you to see
Almost everything you need to know
But not in poetry
I am a Wordsmith
I love the words I play with
I respect the fith
I am a poet
Sometimes I hardly know it
I try to show it
Five, seven and five
How I make a Haiku jive
It keeps me alive
Then there is the rhyme
All about meter and time
Do you have a dime?
Sometimes I'm a mime
A run on poem's a crime?
It is but sublime
Where's the sense in this?
Where's the pretense for poet's
Like me, there it is...
That does suit sir
Are you absolutely sure?
The suit that you wore?
We're loosing the war
I don't mean to be a bore
Safely at the shore
I never abuse
I dissect he words I use
Make them more obtuse
A wordsmith my friend
Slow to start but fast to end
I have time to spend
Time is on my side
I have time to take a ride
Nowhere left to hide
Bring me my arrows of desire
And bring me my chariot
Of fire to serve sire
Yes, I'm a wordsmith
Pope Wordsmith the Fifty Fith
I need meds forthwith
Meeting of the minds
I don't color in the lines
Where has flown the time?
Sometimes I do rhyme
But don't take that as a sign
Sometimes I do not
October thirteenth
Demise of the Knights Templar
Couldn't be simpler
Give me liberty
Or give me... something to eat!
Said Patrick Henry
Time is running out
Now what am I on about
There's no need to shout
Poet on the run
I do hope your having fun
I've more lines but one
Rhyme the syllable
If you are agreeable
It's not horrible
Oh, It's a mad house!
It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world
For a boy and girl
See what I have done
Demanding your attention
It's all just for fun
How grows your garden?
Be careful where you're fartin'
Benjamin Franklin...
I have no pretense
You've read my run on poem
Sentence by sentence
Ah, one more refrain
Now that you have toured my brain
Can you still be sane?
It's my requiem
My doesn't make sense poem
Bit of funnery
What could you lose on
By reading my confusion
Now it's no use son
But now I but jest
And I've given you my best
So now I must rest
I'll put down my pen
And stop the torture my friend
Now this is the end...?
Ancient Conspiracies
Thousands of years ago
They came to earth
Alien shapeshifting reptilian creatures
From Sirius the dog star
They founded Atlantis
Enslaved humanity
They destroyed Atlantis
In a nuclear war
The descendants walk among us
To this day
Forming an ancient conspiracy
The shapeshifters are everywhere
Could be any one
They are the secret power
Behind everything
Their name is legend
Satan
Lucifer
Illuminati
Free masons
Knight templar
The trilateral commission
The committee that does not exist
Their goal
Total enslavement of humanity
With the shapeshifters in charge
And they are so close
To achieving their goals
Be afraid be afraid
The end of the world
Is at hand
As the committee
Prepares for the final
Invasion of the earth.
ACRE
Well, is it better to travel than arrive
Getting there doesn’t mean you rest
As that is when exploring starts again
To return here, nobody knows when
Stand on the walls and beat your chest
Such adventures make you feel alive
For some, the journey starts right here
Exploring, thinking, seeing the sights
Digging to realise what history applies
Perhaps seeing this through their eyes
With flaming torches as the only lights
As their destruction was drawing near
But all that was about a millennium ago
Still burning bright in the local identity
Ruined castle walls and a narrow street
Are reminiscent of that painful defeat
All changed forever in that first century
And some events that none will know
The Templar history is calling so strong
What is written seems prejudicial at best
Tunnels and secret passages still survive
And to discover the truth, one must strive
The scratched out writing is a palimpsest
Time for more digging before too long
There's an angry, confused and sad man - I see it in his eyes
Putting up a synthetic smile and front - his primary disguise
He's choking and suffering in his pointless mundane life
So the anger, rage, and hatred course thru his veins - he cuts himself w/ a knife
He tries to hang himself - killing what he believes is a reincarnated life
Yet yearning and craving the normalcy of children and a wife
His backwards "love" he attempts to display
Will never fix what's still wrong with us today and yesterday
He doesn't comprehend what healthy love entails today
Instead he's stuck in our distant past of yesterdays
A working companionship consists of a tight-knit positivity of a team
But for us ever attempting to work again - it's just become a pipe dream
The self-centered selfishness of violent and unpredictable hate
From me every ounce of my energy it will take
Seldom do we follow what both you and I know we need to do
But it confuses this process when I'm truly me and you're not truly you
It will never be balanced 'cause you've always gotta win
While I'm left trapped in your itty-bitty corner - alone by myself I'll defend
Like an idealistic symbol of a Luciferian Templar Knight
I become lost within your hypnotizing infinite blight
Dizzying and dirtying my robotic mind
You've become the junior of the serial killer - 'cause you'll torture, kill, and bind
Like an Old God with a soul who's lost the entirety of his shine
Turning over and churning the possibilities in your mentally sick mind
Overnighting in a haunted cemetery - coated with your gas-like bliss
But lost in your madness of a world - succumbed to your poisonous kiss
Tumbling down into your rabbit hole of your echoing and murderous pit of Hell
Where all you jaded and twisted angels landed and ultimately fell
Oh but you?! You're different! You're the King of 'em all
Exhausted and desperately - I concoct and build my bulletproof wall
I watch in utter horror as you jackhammer all of them down
I'm waking dazed and confused in your Hell's Pit - trapped w/ you underground
Soldiers raise their holy swords,
To the heavens as they,
Give the oath to protect God and the church.
Such swords are adorned with gems,
Blessed only by God,
Which glows with a testament of honor.
The white tunic instills,
Innocence and purity,
As the red cross symbolizes,
The blood of Christ.
These promises are only kept,
By their silence and,
Giving their life to keep them.
The king and pope betrayed,
The soldiers of Christ.
Yet, after eight hundred years,
Their silence still reigns.
The rumors of their escape,
To distant lands is true.
God blessed the knight's templars.
They kept their oath.
They kept their promise.
One thing is very true,
Treasured documents, Gold, and the chalice,
Has never been found.
I would like to think the heart and soul,
Of the templars resides in heaven,
Protecting the one person that,
They vowed to never leave or betray.
BLACK AND WHITE
The skull and crossbones, in black and white
Recognised by all as pirates on the high seas
For many innocent victims, it caused a fright
Ordered on deck to get down on their knees
Sometimes, crew and others never survived
Booty taken and all such evidence destroyed
The pirates’ discipline was seen as contrived
With fair shares all round that they enjoyed
Then there was a new category of freebooter
With a royal grant to steal the enemy’s gold
But still, in the end, everyone was a looter
Some was kept for themselves, we are told
But in the first truly worldwide merchant fleet
That distinctive flag or ensign was an exemplar
Sailing under holy orders, and quite discreet
Vessels that belonged to the Knights Templar