A riot
of illusions
a festival
on hold
The jester caught
laughing
at what’s yet
been told
Saint George
his new dragon
a pet
on a leash
The parade
stops and watches
as minstrels
beseech
Cheery O’
Cherry O’
the knave said
to the Queen
As he stole
back the memory
of all that’s
unseen
While the clock
in the tower
struck one
final time
And the square
clouded over
with darkness
— unrhymed
(Dreamsleep: September,2024)
Categories:
saint george, loss,
Form: Rhyme
George faced the two ships of splendorous light
Entreated, and vowed to shatter the false gods
Openly soldiering on, through Christ’s name
Rome, heard this bright name and brought their wheel of swords
George even climbed up their ladder of knives
Enduring this, his crimson cross now shines high
Partly inspired by the "Incantation of St. George" from the medieval Chinese text "On the Xiapu Ritual Manual Mani the Buddha of Light"
Categories:
saint george, christian, courage, endurance, england,
Form: Acrostic
(for J.B.P.)
A polarizing figure
A catalyzing force
A man for all seasons
He’s a man called Horse
A strong man in the wheelhouse
A tall man in the field
No crow of ruin touches him
His constitution, steeled
What dragon of today
Could touch that mighty pen?
Demonized, lionized
All faces at once
Like Einstein or Picasso
An immortal eminence
His enemies can’t catch him
Though they try and try
Their straw-man feats of idiocy
Are quickly sent to die
What dragon of today
Could still that mighty voice?
And now he fights the dragon
Of an ideology
That seeks to reinvent the world
And up-end reality
But Saint George has his hood on
His chainmail and his flail
And he’ll take that sword to the cynics’ board
And remove the serpent’s tail
So to prove that truth can’t fail
What dragon of today
Could singe that mighty heart?
Categories:
saint george, animal, appreciation, hero, inspirational,
Form: Bio
One sunny springtime morning
I met her on a fair day.
I saw her from a distance
Out strolling on the fair way.
As like the springtime morning
She filled the air with joy...
She was a rose of England
And I a blacksmith's boy.
I heard that she was singing
As I maundered ever near;
The sweetest charming plainsong
Sent softly to my ear.
As like the springtime morning
She filled the air with joy...
She was a rose of England
And I a blacksmith's boy.
She had the rarest countenance,
She had the fairest flowing hair;
She looked the grandest lady,
Ethereal beyond compare.
As like the springtime morning
She filled the air with joy...
She was a rose of England
And I a blacksmith's boy.
She was a rose of this fair land,
The flower of Saint George,
But I my master's vassal,
A servant of the forge.
So, like the springtime morning
She filled my heart with joy...
She, a rose of England
Whilst I, a blacksmith's boy.
Categories:
saint george, innocence, joy, romantic,
Form: Narrative
I don't do the dreaming --
The dreams happen to me
I make my pilgrimage
And wait for visions to see
There's silver and there's gold
There's bitter and there's sweet
The greatest story ever told
Was right beneath our feet
Come, love --
Save my soul again
Come back, love
And save my soul again
Now, Saint George took that dragon
He brought it to its knees
The city is rejoicing
'cause there's no more disease
Come in, baby --
Save our souls again
Come on, children &
Save our souls again
The brick becomes the mortar
The staff becomes the snake
The labor is its worker
The gardener one with his rake
Categories:
saint george, 8th grade, baptism, fate,
Form: Lyric
*1169, Rawmaish
Be complainers they are without a doubt,
and compliments they may well do without,
when rumors to change their scheme,
like green, whiskey...built up steam,
also Irish stew to Sauer kraut,
Till Saint Patrick's became Saint George, was it,
all of Ireland, northern too, had a fit,
these saints were naught inherent,
as truth snubbed was transparent,
at least their lucky charms spelt, they're no brit.
*1169 Anglo-Norman invasion of Ireland establishing British rule.
Rawmaish, British-English from Irish-Gaelic ráiméis, meaning nonsense.
Checked with HMS
2021 March 15
*4th Place*
Two Limericks - Let's have some Fun!
~~Tania Kitchin
Categories:
saint george, celebration, ireland,
Form: Limerick
Supporting England's like being bipolar
one minute they'll win it the next it's over
we resort to branding them prima donnas
though we ourselves sure they'd win honours,
the cycle repeats
quarter final beats
metatarsal feets
penalty defeats
the proud scenes
singing God Save The Queen
luck not Irish green
victory only in dreams
the red cards we've seen shown
or the goals a many disallowed
singing football's coming home
and singing it proud
we are England
flying our Saint George cross
we're better than Scotland
playing like they're lost
we are prevented
bringing home what we invented
ideas of winning are demented
but in our destiny it's cemented
P.s I am demented
Categories:
saint george, england,
Form: Rhyme
Take three visually vibrant colors
inherent in my desire, heart and mind
symbolic red cross, Saint George recovers
faith, hope and belonging that doth remind,
dark blue background defines my inner thoughts
no sign of sadness, swirls of happiness
associated Saint Andrew, great Scots
marriage of colors, blend of nobleness,
pure as snow, brilliant white shapes my psychic
clearly brings solitude joining our saints
secured unity, George, Andrew, Patrick
minds of peace, colors no need for repaints,
my minds colored red, white and blue, not black
safe in the shadow of our Union Jack.
3/9/2018
contest mind the wet paint
Sponsored by Viv Wigley.
Categories:
saint george, blue, england, ireland, patriotic,
Form: Sonnet
Brexit Sonnet No.6
‘Rhapsodic Key of Blue’
So much hurrah, so much for cherished symbol,
That one could be forgiven to believe it true.
But for me there’s no electric tingle,
From passing ports in rhapsodic key of blue.
If this the blue, please God, what’s red and white?
Perhaps Saint George with maiden now entwined,
Will ask for one days leave from work as right,
Or any other Brexit Beast can’st find.
Our rods and cones are surely most to blame,
Mine own to colour problems greatly prone.
Not one of us view colour quite the same,
A divisive issue, the passport’s colour tone.
I’m glad I see not the colour nor the shade,
And turn’st my back on argument Blue has made.
©Keith Murphy
Categories:
saint george, political,
Form: Sonnet
The American Revolution describes the process whereby one George was replaced by another
Though Jack has climbed his beanstalk,
Saint George his dragon slain,
Gulch-Mammon lives on happily
And myriad is his train
His belly is enormous,
Yet full it ne'er will be.
The moment luncheon's over,
It's time to start high-tea.
Gulch-Mammon's teeth are millstones
Whose grindings rarely cease.
His slightest indigestion
Is menace to our peace.
And every time he sneezes,
Things worsen, though they're bad,
And every time he belches,
The Richter Scale goes mad.
Perchance he bored with eating,
He starts to smoke and fume.
You'll always know his whereabouts.
Just watch out for his plume.
His home is just palatial,
For gold is everywhere.
His rest-room seat is golden,
A thing most choice and rare.
No one knows for certain,
The income that he draws.
Whatever you are making,
It's vastly more than yours.
There on his vast plantations,
Some kine are thin, some fat,
And many laws and statutes
Did little to change that.
Are Jack and George just sleeping,
Or are they in his pay?
Whoso may know the answer
Seems disinclined to say.
Categories:
saint george, corruption, power, society,
Form: Burlesque
St. George May not be English
By Bob Moore(c) 2016
St. George may not be English
but he’s England’s Patron Saint
St. Patrick is Saint of Ireland
but an Irishman he ain’t
St David was a Welshman
but St Andrew, not a Scot
the brother of Saint Peter
so Scottish he was not
St. Denis, Patron Saint of France
an Italian was born,
and Spain has the Virgin Mary
we celebrate that special mom
Most patron saints have helped the country
where they are now revered
to rid the population
of the things they have most feared
Legend says St Patrick
chased the snakes into the sea
whether this is true or not
remains a mystery
And did St George slay all the Dragons?
in England’s pleasant land
or is this just a story
passed down from hand to hand
These legends and these stories
are lost in myth, and history
but there are no snakes in Ireland
and in England, no dragons there be.
Categories:
saint george, celebration, england,
Form: Rhyme
A dragon is not a dinosaur.
Those reptiles do not live anymore.
Saint George was a liar.
Dragons do not breathe fire.
That was all a product of folklore.
They’re extinct reptiles.
Larger than the ones today.
Dinosaurs are gone.
Categories:
saint george, adventure, animals, science,
Form: Limerick
This June, our national football team
Is going to South Africa, for the World Cup
When we were told not to wear our team colours
I thought, ‘This country has gone bottom up!’
Since when did our nation get twisted
Into a totalitarian state?
Where certain minorities have their say
Fuelling the ‘BNP’s’ fires of hate
They wouldn’t have even dare to constrain
The Welsh, the Irish or Scots
Who if told not to wear their teams colours
Would rather be hung, drawn, quartered or shot
Their sense of pride in their history
And for their Countries, is world renowned,
For England to bow to the vociferous few
Would be letting the team in South Africa down
Not to mention our troops in Afghanistan
Fighting terror so we can live free
Nailing their colours to the mast
Standing proud in the fight for their country
We here in England must echo that pride
As onwards all ‘our boys’ forge
And I for one, will be flying my flag
For Queen, Country, ‘boys’ and Saint George.
Categories:
saint george, political, sportsworld, england,
Form: Rhyme