Long Tristan Poems
Long Tristan Poems. Below are the most popular long Tristan by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tristan poems by poem length and keyword.
*Image of Paul Simon SNL by Giphy.
Simple Simon
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Woke up fresh as the day began,
Busy cooking, his wife named Anne,
Made his breakfast in a saucepan,
Enjoyed eating his plate of flan,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Filled with it and a bit more than,
Kissed his wife as the best he can,
Came a knock was cousin Tristan,
Kissed her again before he ran,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Walking with his fellow kinsman,
Who was a bit like a Tarzan,
He says, "We'll do as we did plan",
Simon says, "Yes, buy us a van",
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
His cousin be an anchorman,
Does things like some sort of game plan,
Says he will talk to the salesman,
Interviews him like a newsman,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Let him run the show as one-man,
Naught be a common businessman,
Just glad to be a middleman,
As Tristan drew the masterplan
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Waiting ate a bowl of pecan,
Tossed all the shells in a trash can,
Tristan smiled, "Got the minivan",
"And at a price that cost less than",
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Twas showroom new, in black and tan,
Best terms on the installment plan,
Signed, gift his full attention span,
While at the station, thanked Tristan,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Drove on home to show his wife Anne,
Who had a guest her friend, Roxanne,
Amused they were with the new van,
The cost, the look, in black and tan,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman,
Took wife Anne and her friend Roxanne,
Proud just been a little more than,
Wide-eyed no call by the sandman,
Off from work with Anne and their van,
Simple Simon the blessed pieman.
2020 March 03
*HM*
STRAND CHOICE C,any form,any theme
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2020 March 11
A prolific singer, you mimic songs of Blue Jays -
From the poem, The Mockingbird by Vijay Pandit*
BLACK SAILS
You charleton! I believed you when the full moon stopped overhead,
when the breeze like a quilt wrapped around me with warm heat, when
your fingers flirtatiously covered the holes of your flute, my pet —
you once were all that, and I believed you. What a fool was I
for the entreaty of love. Oh how those vibrating lips fiddled with my ears.
The charm, like a waterfall imbued with a rainbow. It sang like a buzzword
from Tristan — oh if only I had pretended black sails, forfeited your love
back then. Instead this slavegirl jangled her dowry skirt toward the storm.
Your puppy dog eyes, like a shepherd’s — I didn’t see the leper underneath.
The claws of your paws like a lion’s in manic kill. Yet, I saw what I wanted to see.
You’d stroke my hair at dawn ~ how’d I miss the threatening tug, the mock
of your arsenic tongue. No, Romeo, I’d not die for you; I’d kill for…
Oh but my eyes fill with cerulean skies, palm branches that cool me
down, your lyrical laughter, the brawn of your arms — robust waves.
And as I die, poisoned by the arrow of heartbreak, this poicephalus cues
a prolific singer, you mimic songs of Blue Jays.*
4/13/2020
Poetic lines from a Poetry Soup poet - Vijay Pandit Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Note: A poicephalus parrot is not very smart
Throughout history, we are lovers
Throughout history, we are soul mates
We are Romeo and Juliet
We are Anthony and Cleopatra
We are Lancelot and Guinevere
We are Tristan and Isolde
Scarlett O' Hara and Rhett
Elizabeth Barrett and Robert
Pocahontas and John
Jayne Eyre and Rochester...
Blended inside one another
Melted inside one another
Two hearts are one
Two souls are one
Throughout the ages
Throughout eternity
Forever was
Forever shall be...
You and I
The sweetest symphony,
and if there were to be
another life
than the one that we now live,
I know your soul would find mine
We would be
the next world renowned lovers,
our names immortalized
in the books that will be written,
for a love like ours,
this passion we share,
defies the boundaries of time
It's a living entity
infused with heaven's light
and its longevity
You and I
We lived; we live; we will live,
for we are the embodiment of love
We ARE love
Personified
You and I
Love's sweetest refrain
Yesterday, now, and forever
YOU and I
Collab between Tim Ryerson and Eileen Ghali
For Carolyn Devonshire's Contest
Past Lives
June 25, 2014
* A fictitious write
Tristan's Torment - The Villanelle Of The Butterfly
Tristan couldn't stop thinking about the butterfly
It was just so thin and daring
Never had he known anything so dry
It's morning, Tristan encountered a butterfly so wry
He found himself feeling rather overbearing
Tristan couldn't stop thinking about the butterfly
Later, Tristan was spooked by an eye
He tried to focus on a meringue
Never had he known anything so dry
Charlotte tried to distract him with a fly
Said his mind had become too wearing
Tristan couldn't stop thinking about the butterfly
Tristan decided to do something high
The butterfly was like a toxic childbearing spider
Never had he known anything so spry
Tristan nosedived like an intense oh, my
His mind became dangerously raring,
Tristan couldn't stop thinking about the butterfly
Never had he known anything so dry
4/20/19
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Faith! My divine spirit!
I am thankful for your presence in life
In my sleepless nights of prayers and tears
I admonish myself to liberate my spiritual soul in ecstasy!
Love! Immortal love!
An unquenchable thirst of life!
Tristan and Iseult, Dante and Beatrice,
Those stories of those impeccable lovers!
Tristan was never my hero, for some reason,
it never occurred in my mind about him, on a serious note
I was drawn to Oedipus in some way, as tragedy is the best tale of life.
I never felt the longing of pouring words,
To reach the beloved, in utmost purity and warmth
After a long time, I felt, I was gazing through
The struggle and misfortune of the tragic life of Tristan.
And this gloomy night is glowing strong and sure
With a coffer of those treasured tragedies of lives!
How merciful the is Neptune
that we must travel the sea
does Poseidon make the waters
choppy might man wish to
conquer the seas
As woman treats the world horrible
might she find a lover then
she'll smile
Vishwakarma ,ay bless the ship maker
only for Neptune to curse him
the ship stands tall in the what are cat tails
to drift into the stream
through the creeks and rivers
and out to the sea.
The shoots of cattails
resemble the taste
smiles when mentioned
marvels the taste
Written by.
Anogus Cervitious Tristan VI
Cheetah and Cattails
Canadain Suppers
" A Lieu Des Putes"
written by; First Ledger
of 88 Keys
"Danker Dew Most"
sampled with permission
from Gurgler Music
flutes First
aarages the strangs
Though I yearn for eternal rest
and free from his violation
I unravel in his charismatic force
compelled by wild dark eyes
I am but a frail heirloom
composed, submissive, spellbound tied
In the arms of uncertainty
a daughter of Athena
enduring loves legacies, courted by gods
desired by many suitors
cursed by others jealousy and ruling reigns
Two immortal flames
mortal eternals, there is no conforming
We drink from the aguarossa
blood-red rose redeemer
in our underworld’s Leviticus larva
naught rituals regress
our binds cannot be broken
Forever rooted in our rapturous rhythm
plucked from poetic plight
I am but sparkling stardust, silica dense
spoiled by his fire, enwrapped in his core,
whilst I dance upon his soul
On a pedestal, where he has taken me,
a gypsum statue on his Tristan thrown,
he jots his visceral venom vignette
entrapping me in bane sonnets
It’s a god forbidden grapnel gameboard,
where dark words rise like blades of passion
in roulette’s rivalry, his cabaret
Goddesses being the hecatomb
in chivalries of chaotic romanticism
I long to be set free, released
from the portrait I am fated to portray
from lovesickness, unbereft of love's vow
from the bound wrists in gyves
free from his violation
I yearn for eternal rest
You'll smack your lips, at his silver side
Our beefy lad will cure your ham
His tender loins, are worth your coins
And if you ask, he'll stuff your lamb
I tell no fibs, you'll love his ribs
It ain't no joke, his crackly pork
Worth every pound, his piece of round
No crumbly biscuit, beats his brisket
Like chocolate drops, his porky chops
You cannot beat our Tristans meat
His chunky thighs, don't criticise
His seasoned beef, won't crack your teef (teeth)
I tell no fibs, you'll love his ribs
It ain't no joke, his crackly pork
Worth every pound, his piece of round
No crumbly biscuit, beats his brisket
A butcher always, in the making
But the creme de le creme, of his meaty treats
His able hands, will cure your bacon
He's the nicest guy, you could ever meet
Her fair-skinned form is more than I deserve;
because her skin is light, and mine is dark,
like Tristan and Yseult's love which King Mark
forbade, we're banned from passion's sweet preserve.
Though bred as opposites opposed, we serve
our needs: and through her milk and my coarse bark,
like Heloise and Abelard, a spark
burns (though Fulbert and Church show their reserve)!
Alas! Were I as fair, as white, as bright,
as her: were darkened complexion, and chin,
not so eclipsed by night when near her light!
Though mores, like the world, moved by lies' spin,
discourage us, the coveted birthright
to merge won't be denied by tribal men.
I have always been curious about people from Kurdistan
I wonder why they are called kurds
I wonder when the kurds would become keese
Just like curd becomes cheese
I wonder if birds are called “birds” because they come from “Birdistan”…..
Okay, that kurd-bird joke one time never went down well
One audience I entertained transitioned from swelling to swearing
The agitated audience looked at each other, left and right
The bird joke got me pelted and unhired, now I'm a fly-by-night comic
The joke was inspired by a 12 year kid I once knew, nicknamed “Talk shop”
He used to hang around the market stands and chatted nonstop
The lad knew almost all of the countries with syllables ending with “–stan”
He bragged about Kazakhstan, Tajikstan, Uzbekistan, with the “stans” he was never done
The smart-****’s Turkistan questions hit me like a slap
Unrelentingly he tested me to spot Manhattan on the map
I totally lost my geography to the kids embarrassing pressure
The kid burst into a belly laugh when my finger hovered over Asia
In trying to change the subject, I asked him about the story of Tristan
I was zipped into silence when he told me stick to geography and not romance
I asked the kid what his real name was, and how he got an extra memory chip
He said if he taught me how, the conversation would flip
And then he revealed what his real name was with a “My name is Stan, duh!”
A felt relieved, as adult dumbness left my shoulder
I bet you would know every country and its geographical location
If it was made up of some weird syllables sneaking up on your name
The cocky kid asked me to test him on anything
I went spiritual, a subject the kid probably had no grip on
I asked him why we confess to a priest, if God can directly hear us pray
He said “so that we can have an eye witness on judgment day”
I tried to get rid of the boy by pretending to be bored
But I let the boy stay, when he told me that I would miss him one day when I get old