"guinevere" poems
We talk of taxes, and I call you friend;
Well, such you are,—but well enough we know
How thick about us root, how rankly grow
Those subtle weeds no man has need to tend,
That flourish through neglect, and soon must send
Perfume too sweet upon us and overthrow
Our steady senses; how such matters go
We are aware, and how such matters end.
Yet shall be told no meagre passion here;
With lovers such as we forevermore
Isolde drinks the draught, and Guinevere
Receives the Table’s ruin through her door,
Francesca, with the loud surf at her ear,
Lets fall the colored book upon the floor.
9.6k
Love Story byAndy Williams
'Unforgetable"
"I'll Be Seeing You."
"Can't get enough of your love"
"Are You Lonesome Tonight."
I'll Make Love To You"
"What a wonderful world"
Red red Wine
At Last.
"Yesterday" J.Lenon
~~~~
[ Nathan, Joseph-Pat-Rick ]
Close your eyes, make a wish
And blow out the candlelight
For tonight is just your night
We're gonna celebrate,
all thru the night
[Shawn Pat.Rick, J Paul Taylor ]
Pour the wine, light the fire
Guinevere your wish is my command
I submit to your demands
I will do anything, Karijinbba, you need only ask
[ Joseph-Paul-Patrick-Richard]
I'll make love to you
Like you want me to
And I'll hold you tight
Angelina-babe
all through the night
I'll make love to you
When you want me to
And I will not let go
'Till you tell me to
[Wanya, Shawn, Pat-Rick]
my true love AnKarijin,
relax let's go slow!
I ain't got nowhere to go
I'm just gonna concentrate on you the whole night through
My Kariginny are you ready?
it's gonna be a long night.
Throw your clothes (Throw your clothes) on the floor (on the floor)
[Shawn Wanja, Nathan, Pat-Rick]
I'm gonna take my clothes off too
I made plans to be with you queen bee mine Karin whatever you ask me, you know, I could do
[Angel'Q Karijinbba Chinny Chin]
I'll make love to you too
Like you want me to Rickie babe
And I'll hold you tight
My baby Pat
all through the night
I'll make love to you
When you want me to
And I will not let go
'Till you tell me to!
[Wanya,Shawn,PatRick, Nathan:]
Angeli'q Babychin
tonight is your night
And I will do you right
Just make a wish on your night
Anything that you ask
I will give you the love of your life, your life, your life
love of my life.
~~~~
Boys To Men: For:Karijinbba.
start 54-(74-95)-05.end.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 7:18 PM UTC
The young and bold Sir Lancelot
Had shunned the lady of Shalott
And all the swooning maidens, dear.
His heart belonged to Guinevere.
And were she not to Arthur, wed,
She'd have the heart-sick knight instead.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad sir Lancelot du Lac.
When first he came to Camelot
The orphan knight, Sir Lancelot
Did prove his worth to Arthur's Court
In jousting, and such noble sport
And with his charm and courtly grace,
His confidence and handsome face,
He won the heart of Guinevere,
And so he found his heart's one fear.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
In tournaments and deeds of arms,
He never fell to earthly harms.
His Lady's scarf about his breast,
He held aloft his knightly chest
And for her honor always strove,
And worshiped her with courtly love.
But she is wed, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
Beneath a tree, the young knight slept
And one day, four queens on him crept,
The chief of them, Morgan Le Fay.
With magic, they stole him away.
A choice they begged of him to make,
That one of them his heart should take.
But love is strong. They had no luck
In tempting Lancelot du Lac.
When Melegans stole Guinevere
A cart, Sir Lancelot did steer
To reach the hold where she was kept,
Then toward the treacherous knight he leapt.
He bested him with slash and blow,
But to Sir Lancelot's great woe
His Lady simply laughed in jest
And saw no honor in his quest,
For he arrived upon a cart.
Thus, broken was the young knight's heart,
And in a rage he left the place.
He longed just for his Lady's grace.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
The young and bold Sir Lancelot
Had shunned the lady of Shalott
And all the swooning maidens, dear.
His heart belonged to Guinevere.
And were she not to Arthur, wed,
She'd have the heart-sick knight instead.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
So when he quested for the Grail
He made a promise he would fail.
He said he'd not love Guinevere,
But as he spoke, he shed a tear.
He knew one day their love would end
The table round, and hurt their friends.
So when this promise he did break
The land of Camelot did quake.
For Agrivan, King Arthur, told
His wife did love Lancelot bold
And Arthur sent her to the pyre
To end her sinful love, in fire.
But Lancelot, his queen, did save
And Arthur fell into the grave
And all the knights of Table Round
Were torn apart, could not be bound.
And thus the fall of Camelot
Was caused by one Sir Lancelot.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of bold Sir Lancelot du Lac.
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 9:29 PM UTC
Verily, Twin Hearts in Friendship conceived
Is the Right Way to have Interpreted
When Shows like these make Public and Perceived
To give a Selfless Like un-expected
These Humans like me have a lot to Learn
To Grow what such Loyalty requires
Arthur in his Regality gave Concern
For Guinevere to foot what she desires
That is how a Follower must behave
When the Squire works best under the Light
Though empty in notice still carries to stave
For his High Lord to shine with all his Might.
You are that Peaceful; Such I discover
The Heretic in me I must recover.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 2:01 AM UTC
I have wearied of grand romances
Of deep sighs and swooning trances
Of doting gentlemen’s advances
And all manner of courtship play
I am tired of love confessions
And of dizzied, dazed professions
And of unrestrained obsessions
I grow sicker day by day
I once dreamed of adoration
Went quite mad for veneration
Laughing, flirting with temptation
The queen in Camelot
The lonely, lovely Guinevere
Dainty-masked with girlish fear
But when King Arthur wasn’t near
Dreaming of Sir Lancelot
These days I want no noble knight
Despite my seeming helpless plight
I wish to set myself aright
And tread upon the ground
Yet here I am, pedestal-high
Too close to the dazzling sky
As my life keeps passing by
And boys keep running round
I’ve let myself grow much too proud
Drew up arrogance from the crowd
Heard the cheering, bright and loud
The queen in Camelot
And though I had my faithful Sir
Still my heart was all astir
With flying fancies, all a blur
For Guinevere and Lancelot
These fantasies have grown too old
I’d rather let my bed grow cold
For I have wearied of being told
“You are mine to keep”
Men have tired me to the core
Left me sad and sick and sore
And have turned into such a chore
And I’d much rather sleep
What blasphemy for a maiden fair
To toss such doting to the air
To turn away without much care
Though queen in Camelot
But I have withered, I have tired
Felt as if my brain’s been mired
And find not Arthur much desired
Nor dashing Lancelot
Is it so bad to want respite
From endless longing, day and night?
This constant charm becomes too trite
With ever staler tone
I only wish to rest a while
Recover from incessant guile
Forget the weight of lovers’ trial
And simply be alone
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 10:48 PM UTC
A nobler king had never breath--
I say it now, and said it then.
Who weds with such is wed till death
And wedded stays in Heaven. Amen.
(And oh, the shirts of linen-lawn,
And all the armor, tagged and tied,
And church on Sundays, dusk and dawn.
And bed a thing to kneel beside!)
The bravest one stood tall above
The rest, and watched me as a light.
I heard and heard them talk of love;
I'd naught to do but think, at night.
The bravest man has littlest brains;
That chalky fool from Astolat
With all her dying and her pains!--
Thank God, I helped him over that.
I found him not unfair to see--
I like a man with peppered hair!
And thus it came about. Ah, me,
Tristram was busied otherwhere....
A nobler king had never breath--
I say it now, and said it then.
Who weds with such is wed till death
And wedded stays in Heaven. Amen.
3.3k
I long to meet a Guinevere
So many poems I'd pen
Like Guinevere by the Azure Mere
Or simply, My Sweet Gwen
I taste the sound of Guinevere
Tis salt upon my lips
Perhaps she'd be my Gwenhwyfar
Sweet wine of Arthur's sips
Smooth and fair my Guinevere
Of her so many songs be sung
I'd love you o'er and o'er, my dear
Tomorrow I'd have ye hung.
r ~ 4/22/14
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC
Lancelot ye golden knight fair
Through Love’s decree, with coy invite
Enthralled the fey Queen Guinevere
How soon ye forget your sins laid bare
The Sangrail truth, the Heavenly light
Lancelot ye golden knight fair
With comely looks, a swaggering air
The greatest of all earthly knights
Enthralled the fey Queen Guinevere
How easy to shun this dolorous affair
If ye honed instead your spiritual might
Lancelot ye golden knight fair
With glory from lands far and near
Ye took her heart and forthright
Enthralled the fey Queen Guinevere
Le Morte Darthur, the kingdom’s despair
Was sealed upon the doleful night
Lancelot ye golden knight fair
Enthralled the fey Queen Guinevere
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC
Camelot was really a place
where you parked camels –
yeah, the Egyptians traded everywhere;
and sure the round table was true –
King Arthur asked Sir Circumference to
fashion him a round table
because, as a matter of strategy,
it’s never good to be cornered
And what did the Egyptians do
after they parked their camels at Camelot?
Oh, they enjoyed the knight life
and the Musical
and they eyeballed Guinevere and Julie Andrews
So really, in spite of Thomas Malory
and Richard Harris and Richard Burton
in spite of all skills literary and vocal,
and Hollywood special effects -
Camelot was just a night club;
the English have always loved a good drink
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 5:31 AM UTC
Holy yards of hallowed houses of prayer
rise in sublime chants and hymns
at this hour of the blessed dawn
when auspicious shades of light
grace the scabbards of swords
long sheathed and covered in shadows
of figures on the stained glasses
A divided land of long used to darkness
engulfing, rejoices: a saviour rises,
a hero who can unite and heal:
purple robe and the rag, Roman
and Celt: the long suffering realm
finds solace at last in order and justice;
A quest brews, of sacred chalices
In the noble hearts of faithful knights:
Alas, a tragedy in the shadows,
whither, famed Artorius, wise?
Hades schemes to ****** away
your Persephone to Annfwyn afar:
No mortal wounds could fell you alive,
But this, you carry on to Avalon.
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 1:29 PM UTC
Where have all the Juliet’s gone.
The princess' to rescue, the maids to save.
A woman’s gift use to be so more defined.
As was the part I had to play.
Not that I was a very good actor.
Was never much of a factor on the main stage?
If I could go back to the days of Arthur, when chivalry was alive.
Joust with evil princes and slay fire breathing dragons
to ride, on an steed through the meadows and dales.
Listening to minstrels sing my story accompanied by a lyre.
Guinevere wouldn't run from this mans passion.
Exalibur would be pulled from the stone.
Alas I live in the technology age the dark ones are well past gone.
What is good for only some, never ever lasts.
I still have my pen which lets me sit and fret
and lament for a sweet Juliet.
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 7:15 AM UTC
I HAVE no happiness in dreaming of Brycelinde,
Nor Avalon the grass-green hollow, nor Joyous Isle,
Where one found Lancelot crazed and hid him for a while;
Nor Uladh, when Naoise had thrown a sail upon the wind;
Nor lands that seem too dim to be burdens on the heart:
Land-under-Wave, where out of the moon's light and the sun's
Seven old sisters wind the threads of the long-lived ones,
Land-of-the-Tower, where Aengus has thrown the gates apart,
And Wood-of-Wonders, where one kills an ox at dawn,
To find it when night falls laid on a golden bier.
Therein are many queens like Branwen and Guinevere;
And Niamh and Laban and Fand, who could change to an otter or fawn,
And the wood-woman, whose lover was changed to a blue-eyed hawk;
And whether I go in my dreams by woodland, or dun, or shore,
Or on the unpeopled waves with kings to pull at the oar,
I hear the harp-string praise them, or hear their mournful talk.
Because of something told under the famished horn
Of the hunter's moon, that hung between the night and the day,
To dream of women whose beauty was folded in dis may,
Even in an old story, is a burden not to be borne.
2k
i used to think -
how disloyal,
and slovenly,
and unjust of you.
the great king loved you!
but i understand, now, what it's like,
to belong so totally with someone -
your arthur and
my sweetheart -
and to want someone so much that it makes your whole body hurt -
your lancelot and
my agony.
nine tenths of my heart is yours,
but the other part
is his through and through,
and it's going to be this way, always.
i may love you all i like but
i cannot escape him.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 7:19 PM UTC
she's the on he speaks
of in his dreams on
hot sleepless nights.
she's the one who steals
his breath away
whenever she walks past.
Guinevere is beautiful.
she is the fatal drug
that runs through his
veins and into his heart.
it stops beating just
as the needle enters
his vein and the drug;
his Guinevere; ******
has been injected.
Guinevere has become
dangerous and deadly.
his beautiful Guinevere
is the ****** he bases
his untimely life on.
the breath she had
stolen was yet his last.
love destroys you,
just as addiction.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 10:39 AM UTC
*Insane, insane what follows old
This tragedy you're about to be told.
Though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
It is love that we most of all bequeath.
Amongst green pastures grows a flowering field
One not tainted by what this life yields.
Somewhere in the withered forget-me-knots
It lives long enough to be what it ought.
A shining prince upon a silver steed
Riding home to find that which was decreed.
Nothing more than just a thought
Of something born here in Camelot.
Oh mastery of misery art thou my friend?
Do we have so much to gather or defend?
Send us upon this grievous plain
To battle for all that must be regained.
Oh ported soul of Arthur’s gallant lot
Send to us the dear Sir Lancelot.
He be the bravest of all hearts,
His bravery known right from the start.
He hast no legend braved in fear
Doing the right by his lady Guinevere.
Life deals us such a broken art
Of a finger painted love here in Camelot.
The quest be of ill fated charms
Where love survives the coat of arms.
To be so brave is to be a slave
Fighting for the thing we crave.
For no coat of arms can delay
Love’s onslaught once on display.
For to pour the grail back into the flask
Would be to hold love as a captured task.
For ‘tis love that captures all at last
And nothing loved can truly pass.
Though the lance laid silent Lover Lancelot
His secret survives him here in Camelot.*
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 10:28 PM UTC
My lips will whisper love unto thine heart
For my burden weighs heavy on my soul
I will invade your dreams when we're apart
Even by pain of death I'll pay the toll
Why not let Arthur choose another bride
For they stand in line to become his queen
I can't walk away, for God knows I've tried
It's you and I and Arthur in between
I took an oath to always serve my king
Even if it demands my final breath
But I couldn't have known what love would bring
And now I fear our love means certain death
I would give my life for all I hold dear
If Lancelot could be with Guinevere
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 10:34 AM UTC
Eyes of brown
Heart of gold
Sending love
I've been told.
Across the waves
between the vibes.
Written on paper
by the scribes.
Affairs of love in
history gone by.
Lover's seduced
by blink of eye.
Romeo and Juliet.
Cleopatra's Antony.
Guinevere and Lancelot.
And no less, you and me.
Loved and lusted
Sweet as wine.
Stories told
throughout time.
Love goes on
and on my dear.
Open your heart,
put away fear.
For love's soft vision
may well come.
When unsuspected,
heart strings thrum.
Sep 22, 2011
Sep 22, 2011 at 7:51 PM UTC
She brought to mind
The one who loved my Dad
A Guinevere in modern times
And me her Galahad
But that was the illusion
Of a non-mind reading lad
I mistook her pounding heart
That evening in my pad
We watched a film with Richard Gere
The man who drove her mad
When I misread her lust and drool
She slapped this randy lad
Jun 17, 2010
Jun 17, 2010 at 10:43 AM UTC
She tests her own being.
A legend loved by all.
With her and Lancelot betraying
Destiny, the kingdom would fall.
Can we rewrite love?
Can we rewrite scripture?
Can we rise above?
Can we find our picture?
My dear Guinevere,
No more nights of tears,
Make the right decision,
Please, my lady, my dear?
We had a perfect plan.
We should have rode,
We should have ran,
We should have never spoken again.
Tearing down her future
They would burn her at the stake
As love and loyalty shared no shelter
Their dreams together, they couldn't make
It's now too late
It's now time to cry
It's now the last goodbye
It's not like you didn't try
But lest we die...
My dear Guinevere,
You have nothing to fear,
Your Lancelot is here.
This love story will withstand the years.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 10:41 PM UTC
When you were bold Sir Lancelot
and I was a lady fair
we cast our fortune to the wind
and love was free as air
When you were old Sir Lancelot
and I was a lady fair
I never thought there would come a time
when you would not be there
When you were gone Sir Lancelot
I missed you being near
you left a sad and grieving maid
your lonely Guinevere
Apr 2, 2023
Apr 2, 2023 at 12:47 PM UTC
LIVEN ON THE RAZORS EDGE
Remember how we used to dream
the things that we were not
I was your knight in shining armor
in our concrete Camelot
We played so many different parts
like actors on a stage
We’d escape through picture magazines
just by turning page to page
Back when we had nothing to lose
by taking a chance by breaking the rules
When we were dead end kids living on the razors edge
and I was King of the streets and you were queen of the avenue
When we were dead end kids living on the razors edge
our castle was a run-down candy store our kingdom the theatre Bijou
And it’s good seeing you again
though it’s been so many years
Since I played your Lancelot
and you my Guinevere
I’m glad to see those special times
neither one of us forgot
And that we no long need to dreams
the things that we are not
Back when we had nothing to lose
by taking a chance by breaking the rules
When we were dead end kids living on the razors edge
and I was King of the streets and you were queen of the avenue
When we were dead end kids living on the razors edge
our castle was a run-down candy store our kingdom the theatre Bijou
sp-theatre / English / theater American English
By VjKelly 1993 © for my song RAZORS EDGE
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
Eyes of brown
Heart of gold
Sending love
I've been told.
Across the waves
between the vibes.
Written on paper
by the scribes.
Affairs of love in
history gone by.
Lover's seduced
by blink of eye.
Romeo and Juliet.
Cleopatra's Antony.
Guinevere and Lancelot.
And no less, you and me.
Loved and lusted
Sweet as wine.
Stories told
throughout time.
Love goes on
and on my dear.
Open your heart,
put away fear.
For love's soft vision
may well come.
When unsuspected,
your heart will thrum.
Oct 20, 2011
Oct 20, 2011 at 12:00 AM UTC
All invitations stand for you
To step inside my open mind
But I provide no guarantee
That you'll like what you find
Behind closed doors and warning signs
For curtain calls of tragedy
And twisted humor comedies
More Dante than divine
Like a ringwraith, king of nine
In my deepest circle bat cave
I'm the new clown prince of rhyme
So come get on my level
Where I revel in the devil
Turning up the heat on all
The demons who embezzle
While I'm chillin' like a villain
In the egos that I'm killin'
Trippin' slippin' down a thrillin' slope
Just hangin' from a dope *** rope
This **** is tight, it helps me cope
When all of ye abandon hope
Where it all floats, you enter here
Steer clear of gutters, It is fear
My paper boat adrift alone
King Arthur with no Guinevere
I disappear and leave no trace
Erasers in an office space
An empty desk and swivel chair
Still spinning at the same old pace
All carries on without me there
I knew you wouldn't like this place
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 1:52 AM UTC
Guinevere and Lazarus,
hiking down the forest,
following the torrential rain.
A humble squirrel makes eye contact
initiates touch
love crumbs.
Days go by,
he can't stop thinking about the humble squirrel.
What did he give him?
Lazarus,
alone.
Bearing the torrential rain.
Minute by minute by minute,
searching for the squirrel of love.
A green mist clouds a lonely house on the hill.
Who better to inhabit it, than the love squirrel.
He's there, he's there, he's there.
He knew.
Closer and closer he came,
he heard tiny steps,
a scratch of wood.
He felt his gaze on him.
But where did it come from?
Lazarus' in all grey,
His sweatshirt sticking to his skin.
He glanced forward for a second
smoothing his hair back as rain dripped off,
down to his face.
Their eyes met.
Passionately.
Closer and closer they became,
the sound of le mal du pays resounded in Lazarus' heart.
Did he feel it too?
he wondered.
magnetic,
touch.
only music to fill the space between them.
Lasting only a second,
as he opened his eyes,
the grass where the squirrel stood to hug him
had left a shape.
Not knowing his name,
he went back home.
To Guinevere.
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 8:50 PM UTC
Its not a sword I want to hold
I'm caught between a sword and a mirror
Its not a part I want to play
I never asked to be the hero
If its a question when she looks at me
But answers they don't come for cheap
I can't seem to buy my way
I can't seem to find a way
Its all I ever want
I'll hold you in my arms
I'll whisper in your ear
I've waited all this life
Guinevere
Its not a war I want to wage
Me against the king
Life's blood for your love
Its not a part I want to play
I didn't ask to be the villain
I never want to be the villain
If its a question of faith
You know that I believe like angels sing to me
Heavenly decree
I would spend my life
In service to the queen
How much I love you
Guinevere
I'll hold you in my arms
I'll whisper in your ear
I've waited all this life
Guinevere
I would spend my life
In service to the queen
How much I love you
Guinevere
How much I love you
Guinivere
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 12:44 AM UTC