"splendoured" poems
Ludwig Ii
A Bavarian King with no bone bad
A Bavarian King introverted not mad
A king who lived life by night
A king who stayed out of sight
The Swan king was his given name
from Bavarian bloodstock he came Maximilians Death took away his youth
On throne pomp splendoured and couth
Peer pressure never kneel
Twas Opera Ludwig did feel
Robert Wagner was his one true love
Ludwig fitted Wagner hand in glove
A queen, A queen the Bavarians did wish
Lovestruck Elsa dry eyes diminish
Conformity died during Ludwigs reign
His sexuality showed no shame
Lake Starnberg scene of demise
Mystery death ****** or boat capsize
The King ,The King long live the King
Life lived how he chose Ludwig ii
A Bavarian King with no bone bad
A Bavarian King introverted not mad
A king who lived life by night
A king who stayed out of sight
The Swan king was his given name
from Bavarian bloodstock he came Maximilians Death took away his youth
On throne pomp splendoured and couth
Peer pressure never kneel
Twas Opera Ludwig did feel
Richard Wagner was his one true love
Ludwig fitted Wagner hand in glove
A queen, A queen the Bavarians did wish
Lovestruck Elsa dry eyes diminish
Conformity died during Ludwigs reign
His sexuality showed no shame
Lake Starnberg scene of demise
Mystery death ****** or boat capsize
The King ,The King long live the King
Lived life how he chose with no offspring
Thank You
Martyn Grindrod
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 2:41 AM UTC
In No Strange Land
O World invisible, we view thee,
O World intangible, we touch thee,
O World unknowable, we know thee,
Inapprehensible, we clutch thee!
Does the fish soar to find the ocean,
The eagle plunge to find the air -
That we ask of the stars in motion
If they have rumour of thee there?
Not where the wheeling systems darken,
And our benumbed conceiving soars!
The drift of pinions, would be harken,
Beats at our clay-shuttered doors.
The angels keep their ancient places; -
Turn but a stone, and start a wing!
'Tis ye, 'tis your estranged faces,
That miss the many-splendoured thing.
But (when so sad, thou couldst not sadder)
Cry; - and upon thy so sore loss
Shall shine the traffic of Jacob's ladder
Pitched betwixt Heaven and Charing Cross.
Yea, in the night, my soul, my daughter,
Cry, - clinging Heaven by the hems;
And lo, Christ walking on the water
....
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 5:53 PM UTC
Under a mocking Sun,
I may be The Only One.
Or very close to that.
Yes, here I am again,
Back on this theme.
For all I know is that
I feel and think right now.
As for others,
I can but surmise
From what I see and hear.
Yet who provides this World
In which I live:
A many splendoured Universe?
Human builders built these streets:
Residences flanked by cars.
But Someone must be Dreaming all this
And it can’t be little me.
They talk of Big Bang and Evolution,
Like is some form of Revolution.
But Who provided that First Spark,
Light created out of The Dark?
Who is Responsible
For tiny particles
Winking in and out
Of Existence?
My own Id gives me splendid dreams,
But these are nothing
Compared to what springs forth
From some Super Id
Out there somewhere
Or somewhen.
Evolution takes its course,
Following a formula
That transcends
Space and Time.
Many call The Author “God”
Of course,
And why not?
We each have our God,
Defined however we will.
Our Sun has been a “God”,
And maybe still is to some.
Whatever we believe in,
There are Powers around,
Way above our heads.
Whoever or whatever they are
We can but Hope
That they smile upon us
And keep us safe.
Paul Butters
© PB 3\12\2018.
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 9:46 AM UTC
Fair maid, your beauty sleeps on marble stone,
Yet warm spring color drapes upon your breast,
Whose rise and fall like splendoured kingly throne
Would overthrow all doubt you are at rest;
How delicate, how soft each gentle sip
Of morning air delighting of your tongue,
Playfully dancing over your sweet lips,
Flitting away to voice your slumbered song;
How sound you sleep, your tranquil dreams expressed
By chest upheaved in rhythms, gaily dressed.
Far far beyond awaking, do you roam
With kindred spirits through a leafy glade?
Nymphs born of elder days welcome you home
To bathe in springs beneath old forest shade;
They sing of love for when the world was young,
When forests grew unhindered o'er the land,
When each new day was blessed by endless sun,
When fertile earth knew naught of desert sand:
Your voice rejoiced to join their merry cheer,
My ears rejoiced with every song they hear.
Fair maid, I wonder will you e'er return,
Or will the dreaming keep you for its own?
My eyes behold your beauty, yet they yearn
For tho' you are still here, I am alone;
Bid farewell to the forests, to your kin,
Bid farewell to each cool refreshing stream,
Return to wear the beauty of your skin,
Your kin will wait in some forever dream:
But now I pray you'll wake, return to me,
To see the dreams my eyes reflect of thee.
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 9:45 PM UTC
Worldly passions arise
In this abstract distraction
From a faraway land
In his gaze
I live my life in fantasies
For his many splendoured
Smile…
That goes for many
Many miles
Of pure pleasure
Almost spiritual in nature
When I look upon
His countenance of joy
Erased are the pain
That becomes my past
Never more to besiege
My lonely heart
In this troubled life
I see only nature in its
Constant beauty
My abstract distraction
Is a form of distinction
material and immaterial
Perhaps in another galaxy
Or another lifetime
But for now,
I revel in the rapture
Of his being
And his silvery presence
On a screen
That projects a form of poetry
In my soul….
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 4:53 AM UTC
My submission to the cosmos today is this
that the minor perturbation atop my vast desire
should not admonish but allow this verse
to see the light in this form of lexical representation
as it issues from my head through my fingers
and under my breath.
That limpness and idleness be banished hereof
from these words that attempt and do not fully fail
to seize the illusive grail of
frank effability.
As such,
Take heed and fear not frail heart of mine that once was lost
for now not only are you found but you are bound
to witness on behalf of
the triumph of longing
in the dark places.
The fumbling, groping, feeling around
when hope eluded you.
Now hope has won and wins again and again.
Faith, Hope and Love.
The greatest of these is now in the fight.
The greatest of these has thrown their gloves into the ring, fit and ready to bring it.
The greatest of these has got your back.
The greatest of these lift you up.
The greatest of these is what you were made for.
The greatest of these is many and splendoured.
The greatest of these is that somebody.
The greatest of these reigns supreme.
The greatest of these is the eternal, number one champion.
The greatest of these is all you need.
*
Belonging to a fold of yearners
As wide, as deep
as language itself.
Let my ambling
meta-critique
be as one more pebble
thrown
adding ripples
to the vistatic loch of contributions
on this theme
echoing, echoing
from the chaos afore time
to adjunct futures
within the Caves, Temples, Palaces
and 'Scrapers of Rhyme.
Jan 3, 2020
Jan 3, 2020 at 7:54 AM UTC