The Song Of Finis
At the edge of All the Ages
A Knight sate on his steed,
His armor red and thin with rust
His soul from sorrow freed;
And he lifted up his visor
From a face of skin and bone,
And his horse turned head and whinnied
As the twain stood there alone.
No bird above that steep of time
Sang of a livelong quest;
No wind breathed,
Rest:
"Lone for an end!" cried Knight to steed,
Loosed an eager rein--
Charged with his challenge into space:
And quiet did quiet remain.
poem by Walter de la Mare
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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A Bold Knight
He rode is gallant steed
the sun reflecting off his breastplate.
He rode into the dragon’s den
to rid his precious homeland
of the monster that stalked it there.
This bold knight whose armour
glinted in the sun
rode high upon his steed
and would soon be
a hero to everyone.
Many had died at the breath
of this monstrous beast,
now one man
with the courage of a lion
would soon end the rein of terror.
Dismounting from his steed,
sword and shield in hand
approached the monster’s lair.
A sheet of flame emerged from within the cave,
and then came the bellowing roar.
The dragon emerged
and studied the silver figure
that stood before him.
He blew a gust of flame.
The knight raised his shield reflecting the fire.
The knight advanced
towards the beast
that towered over him.
Before the dragon
could blow more fire.
The knight rushed forward
and thrust his sword deep
within the dragon’s belly.
The dragon reared up
its wings flapped in a gallant gesture
before it fell silent to the ground
The beast that had terrorised
his beloved lands now lay slain
by this mighty knight’s hand.
No more would it scorch
his beloved land.
24 April 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Faithless Knight
THE lady she sate in her bower alone,
And she gaz'd from the lattice window high,
Where a white steed's hoofs were ringing on,
With a beating heart, and a smother'd sigh.
Why doth she gaze thro' the sunset rays--
Why doth she watch that white steed's track--
While a quivering smile on her red lip plays?
'Tis her own dear knight--will he not look back?
The steed flew fast--and the rider past--
Nor paus'd he to gaze at the lady's bower;
The smile from her lip is gone at last--
There are tears on her cheek--like the dew on a flower!
And 'plague on these foolish tears,' she said,
'Which have dimm'd the view of my young love's track;
For oh! I am sure, while I bent my head,
It was then--it was then that my knight look'd back.'
On flew that steed with an arrow's speed;
He is gone--and the green boughs wave between:
And she sighs, as the sweet breeze sighs through a reed,
As she watches the spot where he last has been.
Oh! many a sun shall rise and set,
And many an hour may she watch in vain,
And many a tear shall that soft cheek wet,
Ere that steed and its rider return again!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Quest
Once upon a time a princess
was in distress
in a beautiful country
called Ireland
the handsome knight came
to impress
and to win the
princess hand
the knight set off
on the quest
to return the pot of gold at the
end of the rainbow
as the beautiful princess
had request
the brave knight was
eager to begin
everyone had faith in the knight
for he was the champion
this quest he was determined
to win
there were quite a few mean trolls
taking a stand
the whole kingdom was
in an uproar
they came from England to
take over the land
the knight set out on a
path of danger
flying overhead was a great dragon
keeping an eye on the unicorn
things couldn't get
much stranger
the knight met with the fairies
who came up with a plan
to buy the magic wand from the
leprechaun if he can
in an instant the rainbow
did appear
the brave knight returned the pot of
gold to his princess
and everyone in the kingdom
gave a great cheer
poem by Rachel Nichols
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hors-d’oeuvre
Long ago and far away
lived a knight not so bold
and he often considered
how he would rescue a damsel in distress.
Not being bold or handsome to
the knight wondered what he should do.
Then came a day
when his lady fair was kidnapped
and the knight was perplexed
at what he should do.
Mounting his steed he galloped
to the castle where she was held.
The walls of the castle
seem to stretch to the sky.
How was he to save her
and rescue her virtue from these wicked men?
He could not scale this fortress
and breech its stone walls,
From within the walls he heard
groans and wails ring out.
The thoughts of them
stealing her virtue
made his voice ring out.
“Open the gates and let me in.”
The gates duly opened
and the knight with sword in hand
quickly rode his steed in.
There was his lady fair
being ravished by several men.
“Leave ye lady fair alone.”
The knight was taken back
as his lady fair’s voice
echoed in his ears.
“Be gone you silly knight,
can’t you see this lady
wants to have some fun.”
6-7 September 2010
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lizards
Passing through the corridor I came upon an aging knight
Who leaned against the wall in gnarly armor
He was on his way to see the king
Wilson
Wilson
Wilson
He led me through the streets of prussia talking
As he tried to crush a bug that scurried underneath his bootheel
He said there was a place where we should go
So he lead me through the forest to the edge of a lagoon by which
We wandered til we reached a bubbly spring
The knight grew very quiet as we stood there
Then he lifted up his visor and he turned to me and he began to sing
Chorus:
He said I come from the land of darkness
I said I come from the land of doom
He said I come from the land of gamehendge
From the land of the big baboon
But Im never never going back there
And I couldnt if I tried
cause I come from the land of lizards
And the lizards they have died
And the lizards they have died
And the lizards they have died
And the lizards they have died
He told me that the lizards were a race of people practically extinct
From doing things smart people dont do
He said that he was once a lizard too
His name was rutherford the brave and he was on a quest to save
His people from the fate that lay before them.
Their clumsy end was perilously near
The lizards would be saved, he said, if they could be enlightened
By the writings of the helping friendly book
In all of prussia only one existed
And wilson had declared that any person who possessed it was a crook
[chorus]
The helping friendly book, it seemed, possessed the ancient secrets
Of eternal joy and never-ending splendor
The trick was to surrender to the flow
We walked along beneath the moon
He lead us through the bush till soon
We saw before our eyes a raging river
He said that we could swim it if we tried
And saying this the knight dove in forgetting that his suit of arms
Would surely weigh him down and so he sunk
And as his body disappeared before me
I bowed my head in silence and remembered all thoughts that he had thunk
[chorus]
But rutherford and forbin werent alone. and suddenly an unexpected movement caught his eye. on the far side of the river he saw a shaggy creature standing in the weeds who stared across at forbin with an unrelenting gaze. a gigantic mass of muscles and claws. the hideous beast reared back and hurled himself in the water and swam toward the region where rutherford lay. and in a flash, the beast was gone, underneath the surface to the frosty depths below while forbin, bewildered, waited alone. the seconds dragged by in what seemed like hours till finally the colonel felt it all had been a dream. defeated, he bowed his head then turned to go. suddenly with a roar, the creature emerged before him and held the brave knights body to the sky. and the creature laid the knight upon the shore. and the colonel fell beside his friend in prayer that hed survive. and rutherford, brave rutherford was alive.
Forbin and the unit monster were crouched over the soggy knight carefully removing his bulky helmet when the colonel heard a sound behind him. he turned around and came face to face with an enormous shaggy horse-like creature covered from head to tail with alternating blotches of brown and white. it was a two-toned multi-beast, and atop the multi-beast sat the most beautiful woman the colonel had ever seen. after fifty-two years of undaunted bachelorhood, the colonel felt a feeling rush over him as he had never felt before.
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dead Knight And His Horse
Fighting through the haunted stables
The enemies were plenty
And they were able
But I defeated each and every one of them
Reaching the end
A dead knight and his horse arrive to do
battle with me
Standing on a platform
I hurl a couple throwing weapons his way
Keeping him and his steed at bay
After a while
The horse vanishes
And the dead knight and I go at it
Battling one on one
Whipping away at him
I think I've defeated him
But he fakes his own death
And so with one final strike from my whip
He crumbles to the ground
I'm now free to leave the stables
Heading on through the forest and a lake
filled with poison
poem by Justin Gildow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sir Roland
Whan he cam to his ain luve's bouir
He tirled at the pin,
And sae ready was his fair fause luve
To rise and let him in.
'O welcome, welcome, Sir Roland,' she says,
'Thrice welcome thou art to me;
For this night thou wilt feast in my secret bouir,
And to-morrow we'll wedded be.'
'This night is hallow-eve,' he said,
'And to-morrow is hallow-day;
And I dreamed a drearie dream yestreen,
That has made my heart fu' wae.
'I dreamed a drearie dream yestreen,
And I wish it may cum to gude:
I dreamed that ye slew my best grew hound,
And gied me his lappered blude.'
* * * * *
'Unbuckle your belt, Sir Roland,' she said,
And set you safely down.'
O your chamber is very dark, fair maid,
And the night is wondrous lown.'
'Yes, dark, dark is my secret bouir,
And lown the midnight may be;
For there is none waking in a' this tower
But thou, my true love, and me.'
* * * * *
She has mounted on her true love's steed,
By the ae light o' the moon;
She has whipped him and spurred him,
And roundly she rade frae the toun.
She hadna ridden a mile o' gate,
Never a mile but ane,
When she was aware of a tall young man,
Slow riding o'er the plain,
She turned her to the right about,
Then to the left turn'd she;
But aye, 'tween her and the wan moonlight,
That tall knight did she see.
And he was riding burd alane,
On a horse as black as jet,
But tho' she followed him fast and fell,
No nearer could she get.
'O stop! O stop! young man,' she said;
'For I in dule am dight;
O stop, and win a fair lady's luve,
If you be a leal true knight.'
But nothing did the tall knight say,
And nothing did he blin;
Still slowly ride he on before
And fast she rade behind.
She whipped her steed, she spurred her steed,
Till his breast was all a foam;
But nearer unto that tall young knight,
By Our Ladye she could not come.
'O if you be a gay young knight,
As well I trow you be,
Pull tight your bridle reins, and stay
Till I come up to thee.'
But nothing did that tall knight say,
And no whit did he blin,
Until he reached a broad river's side
And there he drew his rein.
'O is this water deep?' he said,
'As it is wondrous dun?
Or is it sic as a saikless maid,
And a leal true knight may swim?'
'The water it is deep,' she said,
'As it is wondrous dun;
But it is sic as a saikless maid,
And a leal true knight may swim.'
The knight spurred on his tall black steed;
The lady spurred on her brown;
And fast they rade unto the flood,
And fast they baith swam down.
'The water weets my tae,' she said;
'The water weets my knee,
And hold up my bridle reins, sir knight,
For the sake of Our Ladye.'
'If I would help thee now,' he said,
'It were a deadly sin,
For I've sworn neir to trust a fair may's word,
Till the water weets her chin.'
'Oh, the water weets my waist,' she said,
'Sae does it weet my skin,
And my aching heart rins round about,
The burn maks sic a din.
'The water is waxing deeper still,
Sae does it wax mair wide;
And aye the farther that we ride on,
Farther off is the other side.
'O help me now, thou false, false knight,
Have pity on my youth,
For now the water jawes owre my head,
And it gurgles in my mouth.'
The knight turned right and round about,
All in the middle stream;
And he stretched out his head to that lady,
But loudly she did scream.
'O this is hallow-morn,' he said,
'And it is your bridal-day,
But sad would be that gay wedding,
If bridegroom and bride were away.
'And ride on, ride on, proud Margaret!
Till the water comes o'er your bree,
For the bride maun ride deep, and deeper yet,
Wha rides this ford wi' me.
'Turn round, turn round, proud Margaret!
Turn ye round, and look on me,
Thou hast killed a true knight under trust,
And his ghost now links on with thee.'
poem by Andrew Lang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Young Knight: A Parable
A gay young knight in Burley stood,
Beside him pawed his steed so good,
His hands he wrung as he were wood
With waiting for his love O!
'Oh, will she come, or will she stay,
Or will she waste the weary day
With fools who wish her far away,
And hate her for her love O?'
But by there came a mighty boar,
His jowl and tushes red with gore,
And on his curled snout he bore
A bracelet rich and rare O!
The knight he shrieked, he ran, he flew,
He searched the wild wood through and through,
But found nought save a mantle blue,
Low rolled within the brake O!
He twined the wild briar, red and white,
Upon his head the garland dight,
The green leaves withered black as night,
And burnt into his brain O!
A fire blazed up within his breast,
He mounted on an aimless quest,
He laid his virgin lance in rest,
And through the forest drove O!
By Rhinefield and by Osmondsleigh,
Through leat and furze brake fast drove he,
Until he saw the homeless sea,
That called with all its waves O!
He laughed aloud to hear the roar,
And rushed his horse adown the shore,
The deep surge rolled him o'er and o'er,
And swept him down the tide O!
New Forest, July 12, 1847.
poem by Charles Kingsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Knight In Shining Armor
Where is my knight in shining armor?
Will he come to rescue me?
I've been pierced and wounded.
The scars you cannot see.
All of them are in my mind.
that surface every day.
They're frightening and they hurt so.
They just won't go away.
A white horse and pointed lance
and rider of strong heart
is what I need to free me
so my hurts can all depart.
Are you real? Do you exist
or are you the hero that didn't last?
Can you rescue this damsel
like you did the ones from the past?
I dream about you in the night.
You take my fears away.
I awaken in the morning light
and must face another day
of verbal abuse which tortures me
and I search in vain for you.
Where is my knight in shining armor?
He's nowhere in my view.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Vision of Youth
A horseman on a hilltop green
Drew rein, and wound his horn;
So bright he looked he might have been
The Herald of the Morn.
His steed was of the sovran strain
In Fancy’s meadows bred—
And pride was in his tossing mane,
And triumph in his tread.
The rider’s eyes like jewels glowed—
The World was in his hand—
As down the woodland way he rode
When Spring was in the land.
From golden hour to golden hour
For him the woodland sang.
And from the heart of every flower
A singing fairy sprang.
He rode along with rein so free,
And, as he rode, the Blue
Mysterious Bird of Fantasy
Ever before him flew.
He rode by cot and castle dim
Through all the greenland gay;
Bright eyes through casements glanced at him:
He laughed—and rode away.
The world with sunshine was aflood,
And glad were maid and man,
And through his throbbing veins the blood
In keen, sweet shudders ran.
His steed tossed head with fiery scorn,
And stamped, and snuffed the air—
As though he heard a sudden horn
Of far-off battle blare.
Erect the rider sat awhile
With flashing eyes, and then
Turned slowly, sighing, with a smile,
“0 weary world of men!”
For aye the Bird of Fantasy
Sang magic songs to him,
And deeper and deeper still rode he
Into the Forest Dim.
That rider with his face aglow
With joy of life I see
In dreams. Ah, years and years ago
He parted ways with me!
Yet, sometimes, when the days are drear
And all the world forlorn,
From out the dim wood’s heart I hear
The echo of his horn.
poem by Victor James Daley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Knight
Our good knight, Ted, girds his broadsword on
(And he wields it well, I ween);
He 's on his steed, and away has gone
To the fight for king and queen.
What tho' no edge the broadsword hath?
What tho' the blade be made of lath?
'T is a valiant hand
That wields the brand,
So, foeman, clear the path!
He prances off at a goodly pace;
'T is a noble steed he rides,
That bears as well in the speedy race
As he bears in battle-tides.
What tho' 't is but a rocking-chair
That prances with this stately air?
'T is a warrior bold
The reins doth hold,
Who bids all foes beware!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Elected Knight. From The Danish.
Sir Oluf he rideth over the plain,
Full seven miles broad and seven miles wide,
But never, ah never, can meet with the man,
A tilt with him dare ride.
He saw under the hill-side
A Knight full well equipped;
His steed was black, his helm was barred;
He was riding at full speed.
He wore upon his spurs
Twelve little golden birds;
Anon he spurred his steed with a clang,
And there sat all the birds and sang.
He wore upon his mail
Twelve little golden wheels;
Anon in eddies the wild wind blew,
And round and round the wheels they flew.
He wore before his breast
A lance that was poised in rest;
And it was sharper than diamond-stone.
It made Sir Oluf's heart to groan.
He wore upon his helm
A wreath of ruddy gold;
And that gave him the Maidens Three,
The youngest was fair to behold.
Sir Oluf questioned the Knight eftsoon
If he were come from heaven down;
'Art thou Christ of Heaven,' quoth he,
'So will I yield me unto thee.'
'I am not Christ the Great,
Thou shalt not yield thee yet;
I am an Unknown Knight,
Three modest maidens have me bedight.'
'Art thou a Knight elected,
And have three Maidens thee bedight;
So shalt thou ride a tilt this day,
For all the Maidens' honour!'
The first tilt they together rode
They put their steeds to the test;
The second tilt they together rode,
They proved their manhood best;
The third tilt they together rode,
Neither of them would yield;
The fourth tilt they together rode,
They both fell on the field.
Now lie the Lords upon the plain,
And their blood runs unto death:
Now sit the Maidens in the high tower,
The youngest sorrows till death.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Knight and My Hero
I know he isn’t handsome man but he’s like a knight
I know he don’t use armour or brave horse but he’s like the big hero
He have given his hand to me and teach me to help each other
He have given his wisdom sword to battles problems in my life
And only him that have given to me a great weapon to heals sorrow
The smiling face is great weapon to heals sorrow
My knight and my hero
He changes my life simply
His instict says that he will always be my knight and hero
And he certains that I always love him too
And I know he is true
I will always love you, Dad
I will always admire you as my kngiht and hero
Always and forever more than your desire
poem by Deasy Anggraeni
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet XI
So in his agony at noon he came,
On the third day, to where without the walls
Stood San Lorenzo with its front of flame,
Where mourners wait the accustomed funerals.
Here to a cypress having tied his steed,
He lighted down sore weary on the grass,
Seeking such comfort for his body's need
As rest could lend till the day's heat should pass
And no man stopped him, either friend or foe
Or knight or citizen or friar or priest;
Nor sought he more companionship of woe
Than the dumb presence of his jaded beast.
There, hidden in the shade where he had crept,
Adrian o'erspent with sorrow soundly slept.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fast rode the knight
Fast rode the knight
With spurs, hot and reeking,
Ever waving an eager sword,
"To save my lady!"
Fast rode the knight,
And leaped from saddle to war.
Men of steel flickered and gleamed
Like riot of silver lights,
And the gold of the knight's good banner
Still waved on a castle wall.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
A horse,
Blowing, staggering, bloody thing,
Forgotten at foot of castle wall.
A horse
Dead at foot of castle wall.
poem by Stephen Crane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Morning White Horse
If then there were moonless long nights...
And the silent horseman went, like same...
If then the horse, too, was more blackish
As homeless thoughts over sad- knight...
What the smallest birdie could do of a garden
She sang in the afternoon and night by ear her thin.
So, did light for a sympathetic the fan of red rose,
Look, morning has caught up, them, with white horse...
poem by Tsira Gogeshvili
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Listeners
'Is there anybody there?' said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the grasses
Of the forest’s ferny floor:
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller’s head:
And he smote upon the door again a second time;
'Is there anybody there?' he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveller's call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
'Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:—
'Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word,' he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.
poem by Walter de la Mare
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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A Horse To Outrun
A horse is sent to outrun the rollers with wheels,
A pin and needle can be a horse, but they are animals.
Stones are thrown on the bleeding wounds,
Heaven shines its odours on them to bind.
The wheels spin, to collect a dust of ruined historical measures,
Wheels indeed spin around to outrun the steed,
To make it abandon, but the battle is never-ending.
Eat the green goose, for it is cherished for its taste,
After the race is won by the rollers with wheels.
If the horse triumphs then exaltation is not possible,
Wheels are to oppress the horse or steed
To make it bleed and to crush its very head and neck.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Alone
There came to me softly a small wind from the sea.
And it lifted a curl as it passed by me.
But I sang sorrow and ho the heavy day!
And I sang heigho and well-away!
Again there came softly a small wind from the sea,
And it lifted a curl as it passed by me.
And still I sang sorrow and ho the heavy day!
And I sang heigho and well-away!
Once more there came softly that small wind from the sea,
And it lifted a curl as it passed by me.
I hushed my song of sorrow and ho the heavy day,
And I hushed my heigho and well-away.
Then, when I was silent, that small wind from the sea,
It came the fourth time tenderly to me;
To me, to me,
Sitting by the sea,
Sitting sad and solitary thinking of thee.
Like warm lips it touched me-that soft wind from the sea,
And I trembled and wept as it passed by me.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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A Knight's Meeting
splash splash, the waves came onto the shore
the knight on horseback, rode toward the maiden
oh the vision was so lovely and the sea so blue
across the golden sand he rode
big fluffy clouds floated across the evening sky
the full moon was just now, coming into view
could any scene be more lovely
the knight was mesmerized
the closer he came to the maiden, the more so-
who was this lovely maiden, by the aqua blue sea
when his horse drew near, 'whoa' he cried,
he saw the beauty and was unable to speak
for the first time ever in his life
the knight was speechless, lost in a trance
poem by Rachel Nichols
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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