Short Byron Poems

Who reads Tomas Moore
reads much more of Lord byron
    as Anacreonte...

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Lord Byron aka George Gordon
a privileged Baron's son
In poetry found instant fame
wine,women & words  daily game...

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Lame and beautiful
He walked like a prince
With his eternal fever
In love with starry night skies
Which glowed in his dark eyes...

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A ROOM OF HER OWN


Byron died at thirty six
Prolific poet’s work was done
Lucky I am still alive
I had no time ‘til fifty one....

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Lord Byron poet extraordinaire
lived life& loved sans a care
His daughter Augusta Ada King
programming Babbage Engines  was her thing...

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Leigh Hunt son of a preacher man
libelling Prince Regent ending in the 'can'
Consistently championed Byron&Shelley
a poet ogf Peace undoubtly...

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Mary Godwin -- soon to be Shelley --
Writing with Percy, Byron and Polidori
To create the scariest horror story,
Gave life to a monster of immortal glory....

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Lost freedom no more Byron
free speaking but felt in iron

Then we said what we thought
now we just say what we ought

Let us sit down now on the carpet and talk of sad stories...

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Poet Kitty

Longing words of love poet kitty will inspire
His soulful meows set her passions afire
Channeling Keats and Byron
He’s her purring siren
Poet kitty, you’re a marvel we so greatly admire
...

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G-leeful
E-xpression
O-f
R-apturous
G-reetings
E-mploy

G-reatness
O-f
R-ighteous
D-edication
O-utstandingly
N-eeded

B-y
Y-early
R-egards
O-f
N-ame

Topic: Birthday of poet George Gordon Byron (January 22)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic...

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G-ood 
E-xpression's 
O-ptimistic 
R-egards 
G-ladly 
E-mploy

G-reat 
O-pus' 
R-ight 
D-edication 
O-nce 
N-ote 

B-rings 
Y-early 
R-emembrance 
O-f 
N-ame 

Topic: Birthday of poet George Gordon Byron (January 22) 
Form: Vertical Monocrostic...

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  Byron and Shelley have nothing on me
    Even Wordsworth is jealous, I hear
  Keats and Coleridge, they move me not
    Their imagery so drab and so drear

  In my room at my desk
    I am King of my Castle
  Now all that remains is
    to pen poems that dazzle...

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In what to me now seems like ages
I've only read some sundry pages;
Lord Byron, a Romantic poet, 
was a dark wit; you'd just know it.

But I (yes, I!) know much better,
for I know it to the letter,
that Byron was an insatiable lord
(with “ssssss” as the head of a large “sword”)!...

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Lord Byron—Genius Unchained
 
Primus-Supremus-Romanticus
George Gordon Noel Byron
Destiny in Missolonghi at 36 
A soldier’s death.

Legendary immortality
Mega-accomplishment
For him the best
And now he’s at rest.

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
May 6, 2015 (Double Dactyl)...

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Whether it's acrostic, limerick, ballad, ballade, or autobiographical,
Keats, Byron, Blake, or Heaney,
that is just a tiny,
part of the magical, mistical, phenomenal world of poetry and prose,
you won't be able to get your nose,
out of our great poets poetry or prose,
join our magical world of the great unknown....

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"She walks in beauty, like the night" 
by Lord Byron (George Gordon)


Black night, far red moon
Shimmering stars glow
Wistful blooms dreaming
Throughout languid hours
Nebulous and long

Deep mystery
after sunset
in black jade world
darkly dazzling

Raven's wing
in moonlight
gleaming bright

Onyx
Sable

Hush...

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Rockstar status known decades ago,
Imagined greatness you alone,
Infused lines to inspire yet unordained,
Dark recesses breathing life unexplained,
A lord born of chance to pursue chosen prose,
Wound about poisonous flesh the desire,
Youth requitted and melancholic haunts,
Playing redemption to political jaunts,
Life bright burning a fever too extreme......

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STOLEN MOMENTS

I curse the tale of that famous Don Juan
He was not so young as we now believe
I’m not so sure he was the only one
With such carnal desires kept up his sleeve
But ageing might mean it’s no longer fun
Yet such temptation offers no reprieve
Perhaps Lord Byron was really inspired
Such thoughts kept him going even when tired






3 Sep 2022...

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Byron didn't wait for me.
Across the hall Becky tried not to look.
Chalk was everywhere.
Knuckles was already suspended.
Trailing the varsity jackets I
Oscillated between chic and irreverent.
Someone yelled, "barf!"
Charades and hustlers cover every inch.
How am I going to find my locker?
Oswald points me to "304."
Oblong and wrong I walk there.
Looking forward, looking backward....

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My way is not that far
my path is not that black tar
my bicycle is deflated
but your heart is inflated
i go in peace and war the way i came
all i see in my eye is a blank game
your yellow pale face
turning shifts like a phase
the crescent waits for me
as the horizon sinks deep in the tree
roses are now dried
our wedding ring is now fried
let me go my way
till i will forget this day...

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"over the waters blue the night winds sigh, the breakers roar ... by Lord Byron 

The celestial sleepless night's beauty
All the unbending brilliant stars rest

Azure eyes catch the burning image
poetic soul force in servitude

The sea's soul absorbs space and time's light; 
Poets write for lovers in the dark

The whole outside world views fade away
Slowly inhaling its quintessence...

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I love shore no less, ocean more,
Skin no less, but more so the core,
Love station no less, more the drive,
Love journey more than just arrive, 
Love man no less, his fool’s nerve more,
It’s this nerve, man’s man to the core. 
_________________________________
Epigram | 04.03.2023 | ocean, journey, men 

Poet’s Note: The lines of this ditty imitate poet Lord Byron who said:
I love not Man the less, but Nature more. 


...

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After noticing a small white house
this painter decided that it would look
fancy if someone would live in it too
so using his sister Nan and his dentist 
Dr. Byron Mckeeby this colonial print 
is mimicking 19th century Americana
And to think that they were never even standing
in front of the house they had been painted separatley





Grant Wood 1930
Americian Gothic

The Art Institute Of Chicago


Entry For Brian Strand's Ekphrasis...

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The Gambler
By Juno Byron

There lived a ruler
Wh'as a good gambler
tall as giraffe's neck
Silly slim handsome deck
Chaos his best friend

I myself have guns
They have become Jesus
On the cross - said
He ate cigga's da'ly
And rode on horses

In the slums when
He came they hid 
Pub books had his
name late in the
Night he came home

Silently silenced go'ment 'ficials
He was a Pharaoh
But his rose flower
Brought him down so
His name was Chalby....

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I'm not the "Scum from Swartz Creek".
I'm not the "Geek from Gaines".
I'm not the "Brat from Byron",
but the stigma still remains.

I've worn so many labels
and I've lived up to them all.
Refuse to be on display.
I just can't take the fall.

If what you see is ugly,
or just not what you'd be,
try to see how important it is
that you be you and I be me.

I'm not the Scum from Swartz Creek.
I'm not the Geek from Gaines.
I'm not the Brat from Byron,
but the stigma still remains....

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