All these portrayals we see of knights fighting must be absolute rubbish because knights in armour could literally have only had two or three blows and then they'd have had to sit down to have a cup of tea.
quote by Mark Strong
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The Age Of Chivalry
Back in the days of old
when knights were bold
who with a sword or lance
in armour sought romance.
It was the age of chivalry
long ago in man’s history
when to fight for a righteous cause
one did gain considerable applause.
It was mainly for show, love and glory
they deemed themselves being worthy
to capture the heart of some fair maiden
which was the most desired prize laden.
Oh, they would strike heavy blows
on all of their opponents and foes
in a one to one combat defying death
as crowds watched with abated breath.
Yes, it was far back in those days of yore
that courage and strength came to the fore
where there was this life and death struggle;
such issues at hand the knights would juggle.
And in fighting for their country, faith and king
noble impressions on people’s minds would ring
that even through the ages are held in high esteem
those knights in shinning armour do now all seem.
There are many legends based on their heroic exploits
a legacy of tales which have been told with much adroit
highlighting aspects of human wisdom related to virtue and vice
and the lessons to be learnt are those of goodness and sacrifice.
History usually repeats itself time and again
as it often happens a situation comes when
we’re asked to do something for a just cause
and acting with chivalry we shouldn’t pause.
poem by George Krokos
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New Heaven
Paradise now has many a Knight,
Many a lordkin, many lords,
Glimmer of armor, dinted and bright,
The young Knights have put on new swords.
Some have barely down on the lip,
Smiling yet from the new-won spurs,
Their wounds are rubies, glowing and deep,
Their scars amethyst-glorious scars.
Michael’s army hath many new men,
Gravest Knights that may sit in stall
Kings and Captains, a shining train,
But the little young Knights are dearest of all.
Paradise now is the soldiers land
Their own country its shining sod,
Comrades all in a merry band;
And the young Knights’ Laughter pleaseth God.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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A Great Man And His Final Verdict.....
So many knights
so many fights
so many heads
so many deaths......
we know truths
we hide it heists...
one day
put her wings and sword to me
flow away beyonds all clouds
beyond the dark sky
beyond angel can reach
he took me show his arm
burn for a fight...
gave me an armour...
cheerful with a fight again......
asked me to go for a sword
makes words for a snub...
so many fights
so many knights
so many prompts
so many deaths..
war for you a fun......
just you was there
without a flower
so many lights
no many songs
no many flowers
just you was there.....
you may restful here........for peace....
poem by Thampi KEE
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Arithmetical progresssion
When driven by a bow of yew
A clothyard shaft which truly flew
would pierce plate armour through and through
and many were the knights we slew.
The armoured knights had previously
overridden the enemy.
By charging at them furiously
were now picked off quite easily.
By archers who were common men
The tides of war had changed again,
no longer favoured noblemen.
Against the lower classes when
a simple peasant with a bow
can lay a titled warrior low.
The knights vowed that on the morrow
They would avenge their recent sorrow.
The peasants were supposed to fly
when challenged by the cavalry.
Noble men weren’t meant to die
but arrows brought equality.
This was a lesson archers learned
and with it dignity returned.
Each man received just what he earned
and thus the style of battle turned.
No longer would the knights prevail.
Their furious charges doomed to fail
Plate armour worn to no avail
when armour piercing arrows sail.
In whistling clouds which bring quick death.
to lordly knights who ride beneath.
A well placed arrow stops their breath
transports them to the River Lethe..
What did we learn from history.
How to kill men distantly
more quickly and efficiently
improving the technology.
But we are learning as we go
moving to muskets from the bow.
Although advances may be slow
dissatisfied with what we know.
Man invents better ways to kill
in striving to enforce his will.
Death has his quota to fulfil
The common man still foots the bill.
Now officers, aristocrats
though they are wearing different hats,
are still the same self serving pratts.
Who despise diplomats
Proclaim the justice of the cause
always advise the use of force
Convinced that they are right of course
and when proved wrong show no remorse.
It does not dent their self esteem.
As long as they’re allowed to scheme
a world at peace is just a dream.
Mankind will not work as a team.
1-Dec-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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5. Merry Old England
Shining armour tunics bright
A table large and round
Swords pointing to its centre
Where Arthur’s knights be found
Each had pledged allegiance
That will never be forgot
To uphold the rights of justice
In this place called Camelot
Each fought in many battles
You’d often hear them call
We fight in the name of King Arthur
For right and with justice for all
Tyrants they had vanquished
Dragons had been slain
Damsels in their ivory towers
Saved time and time again
At last the knights disbanded
All battles had been won
Back to merry old England
Where King Arthur’s job was done
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Knights In Shining Karma
Knights in shining karma
Tend your flame
And with love for armor
Theyll remain
Ever by your bed
Guarding, still sleeping
Shield your soul from this rain
Knights in shining karma will remain
Jealous winter sun...
Cold as vichysoisse
Steals your smile for fuel
Theyll ignite with braziers
Of warming stars
Knights in shining karma
Wash your feet
And with spotlesss darma come complete
Ever by your sink drying
Up tea tears
Shield your soul from this heat
Knights in shining karma come complete
Swollen summer moon
Hot as boiling air
Poach your dreams to ash
Theyll bring sips from restful slumbers
Cooling keg
Jealous winter sun...
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And much more am I sorrier for my good knights' loss than for the loss of my fair queen; for queens I might have enough, but such a fellowship of good knights shall never be together in no company.
quote by Thomas Malory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Black Knight
1.
A beaten and a baffled man,
My life drags lamely day by day,
Too young to die, too old to plan,
In failure grey.
2.
The knights ride east, the knights ride west,
For ladyes' tokens blithe of cheer,
Each bound upon some gallant quest;
While I rust here.
poem by John Todhunter
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Eyewitness
Adapted from Chretien de Troyes
'Le Conte du Graal le Roman de Percival
and the birds fell strangely silent before the Angels came
approached him through the forest
and he at a boyish game
then five Knights fully-armed came on at a walking pace
and the noise of wood on iron resounded in that place
how the branches of oak and hornbeam crashed against their shields
and lances striking armour as the horses twist and wheel
and he heard their hauberks jingling as still they weren't to be seen
then they came into the clearing and he saw it as a dream
their bright and shining helmets scarlet and purest white
and the gold and blue and silver and the sun was dazzling bright
and he cried 'God have mercy' and a sign of the Cross he made
and one of the Knights came forward, said 'Do not be afraid '.
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Neon Knights
Oh no, here it comes again
Cant remember when we came so close to love before
Hold on, good things never last
Nothings in the past, it always seems to come again
Again and again and again
Cry out to legions of the brave
Time again to save us from the jackals of the street
Ride out, protectors of the realm
Capatins at the helm, sail across the sea of lights
Circles and rings, dragons and kings
Weaving a charm and a spell
Blessed by the night, holy and bright
Called by the toll of the bell
Bloodied angels fast descending
Moving on a never-bending light
Phantom figures free forever
Out of shadows, shining ever-bright
Neon knights!
Neon knights! all right!
Cry out to legions of the brave
Time again to save us from the jackals of the street
Ride out, protectors of the realm
Capatins at the helm, sail across the sea of lights
Again and again, again and again and again
Neon knights!
Neon knights!
All right!
song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tarrant Moss
I closed and drew for my love's sake
That now is false to me,
And I slew the Reiver of Tarrant Moss
And set Dumeny free.
They have gone down, they have gone down,
They are standing all arow -
Twenty knights in the peat-water,
That never struck a blow!
Their armour shall not dull nor rust,
Their flesh shall not decay,
For Tarrant Moss holds them in trust,
Until the Judgment Day.
Their soul went from them in their youth,
Ah God, that mine had gone,
Whenas I leaned on my love's truth
And not on my sword alone!
Whenas I leaned on lad's belief
And not on my naked blade -
And I slew a thief, and an honest thief,
For the sake of a worthless maid.
They have laid the Reiver low in his place,
They have set me up on high,
But the twenty knights in the peat-water
Are luckier than I!
And ever they give me gold and praise
And ever I mourn my loss -
For I struck the blow for my false love's sake
And not for the Men of the Moss!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter XCVIII: Absolutely Relative
Expensive is absolute, cheap is relative
Far is absolute, near is relative
Ugly is absolute, beauty is relative
Weird is absolute, crazy is relative
Stubborn is absolute, brave is relative
Stupid is absolute, smart is relative
Weak is absolute, strong is relative
Old is absolute, mature is relative
Lose is absolute, win is relative
Rich is absolute, poor is relative
Sad is absolute, happy is relative
Misfortune is absolute, lucky is relative
Safe is absolute, fear is relative
Love is absolute, hate is relative
Important is absolute, forgotten is relative
Easy is absolute, difficult is relative
Wrong is absolute, right is relative
Bad is absolute, good is relative
Lie is absolute, truth is relative
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Booklets or Boldness
For the book of legends, for a gracious volume,
For a blessed pad in mind,
I pose a lesson for the humanity,
A little stress on the graveness to be a silent issue.
The armour is worn and fed by the knights of gashing blood,
Their loss is like a waste, but not at all for me,
Due to duty being as it is.
Helmets will keep away the sages from a servant of war,
For they can not read at all now, only can it fight and wait?
A group of lovers finds the laughing soldier a misery
For he has no books.
poem by Naveed Akram
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New Roads
FAR road for words that rush,
Arrowing space,
Swifter than meteors flush
Star-road in race.
Wireless! Tireless, leaping the wave!
Roger Bacon laughs in his grave.
One road, o'er-steep to climb
Since world began,
Winged in our wonder-time,
Sun-road for man.
Air-ship! Fair ship, soaring the blue!
Galileo had burned for you.
Dread road for Freedom's sons,
Sworn to release
Life from the threat of guns,
Red road to peace.
New knights! true knights! gleam of God's blade!
Lincoln leads in the Last Crusade.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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The Knight Whose Armour Didn't Squeak
Of all the Knights in Appledore
The wisest was Sir Thomas Tom.
He multiplied as far as four,
And knew what nine was taken from
To make eleven. He could write
A letter to another Knight.
No other Knight in all the land
Could do the things which he could do.
Not only did he understand
The way to polish swords, but knew
What remedy a Knight should seek
Whose armour had begun to squeak.
And, if he didn't fight too much,
It wasn't that he didn't care
For blips and buffetings and such,
But felt that it was hardly fair
To risk, by frequent injuries,
A brain as delicate as his.
His castle (Castle Tom) was set
Conveniently on a hill;
And daily, when it wasn't wet,
He paced the battlements until
Some smaller Knight who couldn't swim
Should reach the moat and challenge him.
Or sometimes, feeling full of fight,
He hurried out to scour the plain,
And, seeing some approaching Knight,
He either hurried home again,
Or hid; and, when the foe was past,
Blew a triumphant trumpet-blast.
One day when good Sir Thomas Tom
Was resting in a handy ditch,
The noises he was hiding from,
Though very much the noises which
He'd always hidden from before,
Seemed somehow less....Or was it more?
The trotting horse, the trumpet's blast,
The whistling sword, the armour's squeak,
These, and especially the last,
Had clattered by him all the week.
Was this the same, or was it not?
Something was different. But what?
Sir Thomas raised a cautious ear
And listened as Sir Hugh went by,
And suddenly he seemed to hear
(Or not to hear) the reason why
This stranger made a nicer sound
Than other Knights who lived around.
Sir Thomas watched the way he went -
His rage was such he couldn't speak,
For years they'd called him down in Kent
The Knight Whose Armour Didn't Squeak!
Yet here and now he looked upon
Another Knight whose squeak had gone.
He rushed to where his horse was tied;
He spurred it to a rapid trot.
The only fear he felt inside
About his enemy was not
'How sharp his sword?' 'How stout his heart?'
But 'Has he got too long a start?'
Sir Hugh was singing, hand on hip,
When something sudden came along,
And caught him a terrific blip
Right in the middle of his song.
'A thunderstorm!' he thought. 'Of course!'
And toppled gently off his horse.
Then said the good Sir Thomas Tom,
Dismounting with a friendly air,
'Allow me to extract you from
The heavy armour that you wear.
At times like these the bravest Knight
May find his armour much too tight.'
A hundred yards or so beyond
The scene of brave Sir Hugh's defeat
Sir Thomas found a useful pond,
And, careful not to wet his feet,
He brought the armour to the brink,
And flung it in...and watched it sink.
So ever after, more and more,
The men of Kent would proudly speak
Of Thomas Tom of Appledore,
'The Knight Whose Armour Didn't Squeak.'
Whilst Hugh, the Knight who gave him best,
Squeaks just as badly as the rest.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Near Avalon
A ship with shields before the sun,
Six maidens round the mast,
A red-gold crown on every one,
A green gown on the last.
The fluttering green banners there
Are wrought with ladies' heads most fair,
And a portraiture of Guenevere
The middle of each sail doth bear.
A ship with sails before the wind,
And round the helm six knights,
Their heaumes are on, whereby, half blind,
They pass by many sights.
The tatter'd scarlet banners there
Right soon will leave the spear-heads bare.
Those six knights sorrowfully bear
In all their heaumes some yellow hair.
poem by William Morris
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To The Others
This was the gleam then that lured from far
Your son and my son to the Holy War:
Your son and my son for the accolade
With the banner of Christ over them, in steel arrayed.
All quiet roads of life ran on to this;
When they were little for their mother's kiss.
Little feet hastening, so soft, unworn,
To the vows and the vigil and the road of thorn.
Your son and my son, the downy things,
Sheltered in mother's breast, by mother's wings,
Should they be broken in the Lord's wars-Peace!
He Who has given them-are they not His?
Dream of knight's armour and the battle-shout,
Fighting and falling at the last redoubt,
Dream of long dying on the field of slain;
This was the dream that lured, nor lured in vain.
These were the Voices they heard from far;
Bugles and trumpets of the Holy War.
Your son and my son have heard the call,
Your son and my son have stormed the wall.
Your son and my son, clean as new swords;
Your man and my man and now the Lord's!
Your son and my son for the Great Crusade,
With the banner of Christ over them-our knights new-made.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Turning point for Friend Thad
The piercing arrows driven by
the power of a yew long bow.
Would change the course of history
As peasants laid the mailed knights low.
Aristocrats had hitherto
Been protected by plate mail.
Now thanks to English bows of Yew.
Their sure defence was doomed to fail.
At Agincourt the French knights found
The could be slain like common men.
The change this made was so profound
That war would never be the same again
Although the knights thought it unfair
and lacking in all chivalry.
The English bowmen did not care
and slew the hated cavalry
Who in the past had cut them down
like ripened grain without a thought.
Now that advantage overthrown
their charges were reduced to naught.
A commoner could kill a Lord
Whilst he still too far away
to use his lance or his long sword
The English archers won the day.
The rules of war were re arranged.
The bowman proved decisively.
The art of war forever changed.
The start of modern history.
Men could kill men now distantly
and very quickly gained in skill
To kill much more efficiently.
A skill men are improving still.
Man has progressed until today
He has the skill but lacks the will
to try and find a better way.
To settle disputes than to kill.
03/06/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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If I Fall (You're Goin' With Me)
(Bernie NelsonScott Miller)
From the time you were a baby
You had this notion in your head
Someone would come along and sweep you off your feet
Like in all those storybooks you read
Well, if you're lookin' for salvation
Like some damsel in distress
Girl there ain't no heroes on white horses
At least I ain't seen 'em yet
There ain't no knights in shinin' armor
There ain't no never, never land
And I won't ever walk on water
I can only love you like a man
Now heaven knows I'm no angel
Just flesh and bone like all the rest
I never claimed to have a halo
All I can give you is my best
But, I will never try to hurt you
Or even give you cause to doubt
That my heart is yours forever
Ain't that what true love's all about
There ain't no knights in shinin' armor
There ain't no never, never land
And I won't ever walk on water
I can only love you like a man
No I won't ever walk on water
I can only love you like a man
song performed by by Trace Adkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lola
'O violet coloured cloud of
Thine dawn
A princess 'tis captured 'neath
For Hercules layed open his snare
Whilst now he watches you breathe
Iola 'O Iola Ephemeral Princess Divine
Your beauty and brillance 'tis fair
A Grecian Calvary of knights are bound
To rescue you from captivity there
Thy Round table had thine discussion
And passed thy vote afore mid-day
So soon under a mid-day lemon sun
From thine snares you'll be taken away
Your beauty 'twas Hercules Earthy motive
So furative and greedy with hedonist lust
And the headniness of your beguiling scent
But the Knights they turned Hercules to dust
poem by Theodora Onken
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