Long Wenches Poems
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Twas the night of the Ladies League Final and the atmosphere was tense
Only two teams were competing, no loyalties allowed on the fence
There could only be one winner, the team with strongest will
And if you lost you were losers, and losing meant you were swill!
The teams were made up of eight players, all with an aim straight and true
Each woman stood there determined and each with their own point of view
Still arguments were frequent and blood was often shed
Only last week Blackout Bertha got smacked in the gob, now she’s dead!
The marker called all to order, and with a toss of a coin they were off
The Fiddler and Firkham Ladies verses the Wenches from ‘Th’owd Pig N Trough’
The Captain of the Firkham was called upon to name
the player who was starting this dangerously ill fated game.
She shouted ‘Hot Legs Hilda - will play for the Firkham pride’
she was the one who’d smacked Bertha, you know, the lass that had died!
Well ripples ran though the public and scowls came across from the Trough
But they sent out their best in ‘Fat Freida’ and suddenly the game was off!
Hilda set a steady pace, with a one and a two, double three
As she stepped back off the hockey she gave Frieda a stab in the knee
But Freida was not to be mithered she went one, double two, double five
And folks sitting round the ale tables thought, ‘We’ll none of us get out alive!’
It was plain to see from the offing that this match was doomed from the start
As each woman rankled the other with poke or cough or a fart!
Eventually the pair of them, understood that the game must be won
And Frieda left Hilda three Arrows – her Captain said, ’This’ll be fun!’
Now Hilda was a psychopath who hated to lose, yes it’s true
But what she did next took all by surprise; it came totally out of the blue
She ambled across to her handbag and pulled out a crossbow of size
And with that she let loose an arrow that hit Frieda right between eyes.
You could have heard a pin drop as Freida lifelessly fell to the floor
As her Captian straddled the bloodied corpse her face took on a look that was sore
She turned to the Firkin’s Captain and said quite resigned and all meek
‘By Heck June not another – Oh well, same time, same place next week??’
Cap'n & the Wench *part the fifth*
Says the Wench to the Cap'n " We'll dabble in Real Estate!"
So says the Cap'n to the Wench " 'Twould seem 'tis our Fate!
As Tales are often Told from Time to Time & Again~
So doth it go twixt Wenches & those very Bold Men~
This Great Saga of the Cap'n & that Wench so Very Dear~
Had been begun then to continue Year after ever Year~
But all Sailors well know if'n they've oft Smartly Tacked~
Yer in Irons fer certain if'n yer Royals are Backed~
Makin' speed astern would allow such One chance to Box~
Mindin' Gales gone a'lee creatin' Naught but Fear~
Only a keen SeaWolf might again Sail as would the Fox~
All surely believin' his Great Ship could naught but Wear~
'Twould be a course destined by Fate were the Helm hard a'Lee~
Maidens of the Depths gatherin' as Winds did'st now Howl~
Yet t'was a plot laid by SeaWolf as his heart Set him Free~
For Great Winds & Waves now did'st appear & Truly Growl~
From Deep Down under this Tormented Surface~
Came now to the ears of all Those now Enraged~
Softly with Empathy & Fanciful Purpose~
Silent Sounds heard well ~ all distinct Reason had Swayed~
Lee Rail's buried beneath Wind Torn Sea~
Gale a Howlin' thru the Riggin' & Spars~
From SeaWolf nary a word nor any Certain Plea~
His Eyes & that 'sprit a'fixed on Far Stars~
This Tale oft whispered in Taverns & Pits.......
Ye'll hear it fer certain Bit by little Bit.....
Pay Heed to Lessons Learned thus Herein.....
'Twere it to be Pleazure in life yer Truly to Win~
For Never Again Will Be Seen that Great Ship at Sea~
Only possibly for some who truly Set themselves Free~
In Dream Foggy Nights fiesty with Calm Swells~
Listen Well off in the distance for that Great Ships Bell!
SeaWolf
©
He said, "You spend all day in bed with your women, and not one you have married. I think they could use a break. Your brother wishes to starve the people. If you were to be King what would you do?" "The army is week with loneliness." The second son said, as he pulled his wenches close. "I will let them take all the women they want." "So you will rape the women?" the King asked. "Are women not a vessel to be used in that way?" the second son spoke with mocking in his voice. The King sighed, for this was another son he mislead. "My son," the King spoke again, "I love you as much as a king could love a son but I love my people more. You shall not be King." Anger filled the second son And rising his fist up high, he spat, "When you die I will have reign and the guards will take every woman, even if it is before her time." So with his toys in tow he stormed out the room” The wizard stopped and looked me in the eyes, “have you heard this one before my child?” “No,” I answered back, eager to hear what the King will do. “Very well,” He said as he went on. The King called onto his third son; hopping he will bring what the other two could not. The King’s third son was short and small; with children as servants so he could feel very tall. "My king," the third son said, ‘what is so important that you must drag me from my chambers were I sleep?" ‘My son,’ The King went on, ‘your brothers wish to starve and rape my people. If you were king what would you do?" The third son raised a hand to his chin; thinking hard. "The army is all to tall," he began, "I shall take the children from their homes and have them trained as solders do." "You wish to brainwash children to do the evils not even men should so?" With a coy smile the third son said, "Precisely, my King, if it pleases you." "My son,"
Copyright 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Poetic Lyrics By Thomas Lam Hsi
THERE IS ONLY ONE TRUE GOD...THE LORD GOD ALMIGHTY...WHO ALONE CAN
SAVE FROM Satan...who plays 'all' roles...the devil...the 'Lord Jesus'...
the 'Father'...the 'Holy Spirit'...all 'Other Gods'...and 'alien gods'...HE...THE
LORD JESUS CHRIST HIMSELF IS FULLY GOD AND MAN...AND HE ALONE...
IS THE ONLY WAY TO GOD THE FATHER...and to an Actual Heaven!
In the greatest love stories,
A royal princess is lost forever,
And though the warring fields are bloodied,
A stallion of white has broken through,
The prince who wins her heart,
Is he who challenged the evilness of heart.
In the dark pitch of night,
Through the howling of the blackened forest,
He has terrorized the terrorer,
Till he has conquered the evilness,
OF HIS OWN HEART.
CHORUS:
A woman's heart is like a flower,
And a prince will never take her heart,
He will fight every war,
He will slay every evil dragon,
He will even war against OLYMPUS,
JUST TO WIN HER HEART.
The real Blackbeard was a fantasy of art,
His wenches of rose, pink, and gold,
Rose in eternal shame,
A true prince fires across the evilness of heart,
And captures the wicked bony fingers,
Till he blazes as golden victory against the rising sun.
To a prince, every petal of a flower,
Has its own delicate fabric of mysteries and dreams,
And a true prince places each petal of her heart,
In a symphony,
OF A DESTINED HEART.
EPILOUGE:
And words whispered into her tender young ears,
Blossom into butterflies and candied hearts,
And a destiny reflected into a shattered crystal glass,
Are birthed through the bitter trials of a dragoned past,
UNTIL THE EVILNESS OF MAN...ENDS AT LAST!
A gracious silver silhouette
For a mirage, a solemn bet
I shall pull on strings with invisible fingers
For a feeling that forever in the land lingers
A declaration of utmost infatuation
Romance, the name of the situation
Sitting on my little castle of dry sand
I'll look up at you, ask you if you understand
That I love you, adore you, need your presence
Together, precious, why not, let's jump the fence
Defy the three wenches of fate, together like rocks forgotten
Snakes stirring within the ocean of sand, by arrows striken
A egregious god, I by those vile reptiles of love bitten
None has achieved what I will, you will soon be taken
Perfect circle of argent
Of the Heavens the infant
Will you give me your divine favor?
I pray at your altar with fervor
I would do anything for your graces
Show you the world, a thousand faces
In fact, no atrocity is bellow me, for a stare
I would kill, slaughter, torture, without care!
I offer my broken wings to you as a tribute
In honour of your beauty, so that I may refute
Any who may doubt the sincerity of me the Heartfelt
Steady, by your side, ever-present, like a safety belt
A guardian to you silent stargazer
Of your hidden dance I am the watcher
Soon of your one soul the catcher
Artist to your forms, I am a gazer
No canvas reaching the hegenomy of your beauty
None of my work worthy, what a miserable pity
Yet, I still keep an hope vain
As from my visage life drains
I am the Moon Charmer
Form:
Dreamscape
Fright night echoes sounds clink tapped chalices,
Amidst caused bruised concoctions aplenty,
Dons alehouse barmaids geniality,
Fair distance yonder gates of said palaces.
Camaraderie placates fools, nightfalls,
Host chambered snores all else unpleasantries,
Wenches clear tables its swill and varies,
Whilst yon night watchman hollers hourly calls.
The stoic slept welcomes twilight approach,
Chasten slumberous surrenders dream world,
Muscled manliness stretches stints winnowed,
Mother swoon child tender desire encroach.
Abandon heads sheath will-o'-the-wisp state,
Goliath behemoths failure foiled wake,
Marooned upon drifts angels blissful break,
The golden book said, chapter, verse bears weight.
Widows paired widowers weep tears befalls,
E'er so oft descends expecting rose cheeks,
Point bold repeats shared long days spells short weeks,
Begs one's heart fair soft sweet exchange recalls.
Voiceless notes unfurl rare unwritten soul,
Strengthen brave quill effects sweet passages,
Pledge remembrance weigh all averages,
Stirs careful measure of aged well-sought goal.
Escapes upon winged flight anointed dove,
Glissades white cloud that welcomes warm dawning,
Expecting eyes embrace forth hours thawing,
Borne souls board morns star golden sleigh brought love.
2020 February 08
*Honorable Mention*
STRAND SELECT H,any form ,any theme
~~Brian Strand
Good tidings young maidens it is me
The chastity belt bespoke fitter
To all princess and queen
I could tell many a tale about the things I've seen
But alas the crusades are over
No need for chastity belts no more
I did good business when the men were at war.
I'm having a closing down sale
Many bargains I've made
It's ok your secrets with me
I still fit free
With pride and dignity.
Of course I might have to make a mould with my hands
To make a correct fit
But I've had plenty of practice and been about a bit.
So come on you wenches and fair maidens
Come lay on my couch
And I'll soon get around to fitting you out
Because there's talk of another war
The men will be fighting again away
My sizes range from small to extra large
With no extra charge
Free can opener if you lose the key
And I'm readily available in an emergency
What ever that emergency maybe.
See me advertise in ye olde Cosmo magazine
With a picture of a massive one I fitted for the queen
I also sell armoured breast belts
With lock and key of course I'll have to measure
And mould your wares on display
I do that for fun you don't have to pay.
Ok Ladies I'll stay open and not close down
A new crusade has started and I'm the only man left around
Send me a E arrow or a talkagram
And I travel to please you from olde Nottingham town.
Any offers?.
Peter Dome.copyright.2014. Aug.
Flibble me flabbles walk me decks~
O'speed & grace & o' them wrecks~
Ye ayre whot's roight 'tis such a'fright~
Great White runs deep & up tonight~
Lee ayre naught but weather gone 'round~
Yer vessel she's stout 'er keel yet sound~
Trade 'er not fer bright boards o'glass~
Put not o'er side yer frilly young lass~
Sands moight be white & mayhap oft black~
Sail well 'ard to wind'ard & ne'er a'back~
Genies o'bottles magicians all~
Ne'er down o'heavens stars may fall~
'Til nights ayre bright & days ayre dark~
'Twil then in me wake I'll set 'em a'spark~
Me cannon's whot's ready & 'er barrel be 'ot~
Fer landsman I ain't ne'er & not!
Cheers-yer-Ears o'heard well 'round~
Whot ayre whot's seas steep ayre a'bound~
Me ship 'er rails mayhap yet be down~
Fer 'twould me krewe wish a'first bein' a'town!!!
Chasin' ports wenches.... kissin' 'em a'bold~
Folklore grand as to children 'twill be told~
O'Corsairs & Pyrates & krewes o'brigands~
Fer me ship when goes down she'll go with all 'ands!
Poseidon Neptune Atlantian Mermaids~
O'all those seas ayre whot's them's made~
Them whot's chucklin' fer so as we play~
Sailin' our great ships fore'er & one day!
Aye mayhap so whot's our dreams be a'miss~
Fer naught sailor needs but a'plenty o'kiss~
Nay not so sayeth seas so deep so green~
‘Tis life whot's best or so 'twould seem!
SeaWolf
©
Maidens, bloody maidens, I had me six of ‘em wenches, ye knowest
Fullsome Catherine of Aragon wrought havoc ‘tween me and the Pope
Besought a divorce, split from the church whilst Anne Boleyn caught mine eye
'Twas beheaded whenst in ‘er capacity to produce a male heir I lost hope
Mine affection waxed for Jane Seymour; I beseeched ‘er t’ marry me
Anne’s body not yet cold in the ground whenst Jane became mine queen
But after giving me a son, Jane withered, twas gone in two weeks
For ‘er I mourned two years, afore proposing to Anne of Cleves
Ye knowest this “Flanders Mare” twas not suited for mine royal court
Nay, ‘er domestic skills tweren’t becoming of a stately king’s wife
At mine auld age of 49, I grew enamored of young Kathryn Howard
She but 19 when I divorced Anne and beseeched ‘er t’ share mine life
But Kathryn had eyes for other blokes, made me look like a pompous joke
"Thou dost not deserve thine title," I declared, had ‘er executed
Twice widowed at the age of 31, Katherine Parr I settled for
This wench cared for me as I grew ill, thus is undisputed
Prithee t’ see after six attempts, I finally met mine match
Katherine inherited mine throne once mine body twas laid t’ rest
From heaven I look back fondly at mine spirited days of yore
Knowing that in a regal sense mine first wife twas truly mine best
* For Lisa Cooper’s “I Want Some Old English Scandal” contest
Far from the throes with foes who dip acid,
but
still wiping flows from my nose, cooked by oil-based pros. The intensity grows, when it's mixed with White Whoes', and you come out yo' clothes, 'cause you're froze like Lake Placid.
"That's some good SHYT!" exclaimed on the laundromat curb. N**** STILL had a ten spot, for a stick of some herb, and it betta not be no damned reggie.
Veronica and Betty like glue, but they 'bout to come through, 'cause they're ATM's through. Plus I told them whoe's "Fix some spaghetti."
They never invited me into the White House. You know? Though for more than a 'dub, I was just a rock's throw.
I never linked up with NAACP, but got drunk in a spot with a man named Barry.
I never sat down with ambassa-door mats, but Jamaican representatives held me down pat. They put green in my lungs and a gat' on my back, and in twenty-odd years, we had but one attack.
Yeah, we was like that. A class of persons who fight back. These days, the surface of my heart is striped black, but if I be the harmed one, then my Moms' won't like that.
Definition of manhood, right? A male bossed by three wenches, his daughter, Mom, and wife. Somehow I find it a startling plan, to remove my , so you'll call me a man.
I just
wow.
Chocolate City, do you miss me? If you do, the feeling's not mutual, not anymore.