Camelot
In ancient times, young Arthur stood,
Above the stubborn stone
That held a destiny so good,
For one and one alone...
Who held the sword within its power
Would rule the kingdom well
And suddenly, within the hour,
That secret it must tell...
When Arthur pulled and pushed the sword,
He learnt the lesson there,
That strength alone is self-assured,
A King must show a care...
As force is just the start, not all,
It's wisdom that each needs
And blessed are those who hear its call,
Without it, none succeeds...
When Merlin played his magic arts
With potions and dark spells,
His incantations fooled men's hearts
With showmanship that sells,
The kind that seems salvation's friend,
Yet pagan were his ways,
Perhaps until his very end
When he, the Lord, obeys...
Meantime, King Arthur had a dream,
A city built with love,
Where men were noble not extreme,
Still courteous though tough...
If peace could blossom like the rose,
Men had no cause to fight,
No need for men to come to blows,
To prove the best or right...
Thus Arthur chose his noblemen,
His knights who'd won their spurs,
With them, he strove for peace to gain,
No matter what occurs...
While wisdom led him by the hand,
His heart and head were one,
Such that his fame had crossed the land
From dawn to setting sun...
But Fate was working in the courts
Where justice was dispensed,
Such that King Arthur heard reports
And he became incensed...
A rage then festered in his soul
Through infidelity
And of his wife he lost control,
Despaired eternally...
Such is the bond 'twixt man and wife,
Let no man come between,
Else fear to lose his very life,
If he should intervene...
When Merlin heard the sorry state,
He mourned for Arthur's loss,
He wept at this, the twist of Fate,
As callous as Christ's cross...
The Queen discovered lust cares not
For commoner or King,
Not even there in Camelot,
Could she escape its sting...
For like a scorpion's deadly kiss,
Was lust the final flaw,
That killed a kingdom's wondrous bliss
And shook it to the core...
Think not, that Camelot was spared
The rumours and the sighs,
Though many noblemen still cared
Despite those that despise...
With heads held low, for shame, for grief,
Their legend tainted thus,
One knight fought on in his belief
The Holy Grail heals us...
And so he journeyed far and wide,
Christ's cup to heal the hurt,
Yet who knows if it was supplied?
Because the legend's blurred...
Some say it was, by grace, in time
And Arthur was restored
And Camelot endured sublime,
Blessed by our Sovereign Lord...
Yet others tell of Arthur's death,
Excalibur returned
And with the parting of his breath,
Was Arthur's dream now spurned...
But this I know, of all Man's dreams,
God's roses truly grow
Within the hearts that spurn extremes
And yearn for Christ to know...
It's not the chalice that can heal,
Forgive or mend the mind,
It's just God's grace that grants appeal,
Atonement, pure and kind...
A godly knight can journey lands,
His quest may guide him well,
Yet only Jesus understands
How Heaven saves from Hell...
Did Merlin find God's grace at last?
Did Lancelot find peace?
Did Arthur overcome the past?
The legends never cease...
Such legends now are all we've got,
That's why they're highly prized...
Yet Christians wait God's Camelot,
The Golden Age of Christ!
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Merlin
He appears to be just a regular guy,
But Merlin, he is not like you or I.
His main duty is to serve the King,
And for him, he would do anything.
Merlin possesses a happy disposition;
To protect King Arthur is his mission.
When he is given any task or a quest,
Merlin will endeavour to do his best.
Gaius, the physician, is Merlin's mentor:
His wise words should not be ignored.
Life can be a challenge for this Warlock:
For he is often working against the clock.
Merlin has met with many mystical creatures:
Some of them possess many grotesque features.
Others of them are beautiful beyond belief;
Some bring wisdom, while others bring grief.
That Merlin is daft, the King often pretends,
But the two of them are really good friends.
Merlin and his master share a strong bond;
Of Merlin, King Arthur is secretly fond.
Many a time, he's saved Arthur from death:
Saved Queen Guinevere from feeling bereft.
When he casts spells, his eyes burn bright:
It is then he makes sure he stays out of sight.
With magic, Merlin often saves the day,
But his magical powers, he hides away.
When the King is in trouble, Merlin's at his side;
About how he saved the day, he has often lied.
Neither witchcraft, nor magic, can the King stand:
From the kingdom of Camelot, they are both banned.
Merlin's magical gifts must never be revealed:
If they ever were, his fate would be sealed.
poem by Angela Wybrow

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Arthur Pendragon
Now many centuries after his death
I know that there had never been a king
that on this earth did breath
who by his valour and nobility had my heart rising
as Arthur of Camelot, Arthur of the round table did
and although his sword Excalibur forever stays hid
through centuries his tales remains as the token of chivalry
and somehow there is truth and a kind of magic to it.
poem by Gert Strydom

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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)

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Le Morte d'Arthur (Cavatina Sequence)
(after Sir Thomas Mallory)
With his breastplate shattered he limped
among the dead,
all of his heroic friends were now gone,
around him spread
lay good, great, honest men, the very best,
and up ahead
swords clattered, the sun shone as always,
but he only saw its fading dying rays,
yet to some men King Arthur is not dead
and rise he will
by the great power of Jesus they say,
Arthur lives still
in their hearts as the once and future king
to from great ill
rid the world, I will only further say
that Arthur was a great man in his day.
[References: 'Le morte d'Arthur' by Sir Thomas Mallory. 'But many men say there is written upon his tomb this verse: HIC IACET ARTHURUS, REX QUONDUM REXQUE FUTURUS 'Here lies Arthur, the once and future king.'' From 'Le morte d'Arthur' by Sir Thomas Mallory.]
poem by Gert Strydom

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Knight Of The Realm
When he was young, he learnt to fight, yet not to prove his power.
He was a hero not through might, but that he would not cower.
He chose his battles not for fame, but for good reasons why,
For what good was a foolish aim if he should lose and die?
When he was young, he learnt to pray for courage and resolve.
He studied Scripture every day in order to evolve.
A man is more than flesh and bones and more than muscles, too.
More known for what his heart condones and if his word is true.
When he was young, his parents taught respect and courtesy,
So that temptations never caught the man he chose to be...
Thus years passed by and wisdom smiled and gave his spirit peace.
By faith he served, as if God's child, his good works to increase.
When he was young, Christ used him most, a champion of the Lord.
And while he travelled coast-to-coast, his fame was not ignored.
He counselled lost souls to repent, he shared God's gentle grace,
Because Christ was his one true friend, the Judge that all must face.
When he was young, he had no wife, no heirs to call his own,
Instead, he offered Christ his life, as knights serve kings alone...
The Holy Grail was like his muse, yet faith more wisdom brings...
No better king should a knight choose than Christ the King of Kings!
Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2011.
poem by Denis Martindale

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Uncle Arthur
Strikes the bell for 5 oclock, uncle arthur closes shop
Screws the tops on all the bottles, turns the lights out, locks it up
Climbs across his bike and hes away
Cycles past the gasworks, past the river, down the high street
Back to mother, its another empty day
Uncle arthur likes his mommy
Uncle arthur still reads comics
Uncle arthur follows batman
Round and round the rumours fly, how he ran away from mum
On his 32nd birthday, told her that hed found a chum
Mother cried and raved and yelled and fussed
Arthur left her no illusion, brought the girl round, save confusion
Sally was the real thing, not just lust
Uncle arthur vanished quickly
Uncle arthur and his new bride
Uncle arthur follows sally
Round and round goes arthurs head, hasnt eaten well for days
Little sally may be lovely, but cooking leaves her in a maze
Uncle arthur packed his bags and fled
Back to mother, alls forgiven, serving in the family shop
He gets his pocket money, hes well fed
Uncle arthur past the gasworks
Uncle arthur past the river
Uncle arthur down the high street
Uncle arthur follows mother
song performed by by David Bowie

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Arthur
Arthur was born just a plain simple man
In a plain simple working class position
Though the world was hard and its ways were set
He was young and he had so much ambition
All the way he was overtaken
By the people who make the big decisions
But he tried and he tried for a better life
And a way to improve his own condition
If only life were easy it would be such fun
Things would be more equal and be plenty for everyone
Arthur the worlds gone and passed you by
Dont you know it, dont you know it
You can cry, cry all night but it wont make it right
Dont ya know it, dont ya know it
Arthur we know and we sympathize
Dont ya know it, dont ya know it
Arthur we like you and want to help you
Somebody loves you dont you know it
How is your life and your shangri-la
And your long lost land of hallelujah
And your hope and glory has passed you by
Cant you see what the world is doing to ya
And now we see your children
Sailing off in the setting sun
To a new horizon
Where theres plenty for everyone
Arthur, could be
That the world was wrong
Dont ya know it, dont ya know it
Arthur, could be
You were right all along
Dont ya know it, I hope ya know it
Now we know and we sympathize
Wed like to help you and understand you
Dont ya know it, dont ya know it
Somebody loves you, dont ya know it
Dont ya know it, dont ya know it
Arthur the worlds gone and passed you by
Dont ya know it, dont ya know it
You can cry, cry all night
But it wont make it right
Dont ya know it, dont ya know it
Arthur we read you and understand you
Arthur we like you and want to help you
Oh! we love you and want to help you
song performed by by Kinks

Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Merlin
“Gawaine, Gawaine, what look ye for to see,
So far beyond the faint edge of the world?
D’ye look to see the lady Vivian,
Pursued by divers ominous vile demons
That have another king more fierce than ours?
Or think ye that if ye look far enough
And hard enough into the feathery west
Ye’ll have a glimmer of the Grail itself?
And if ye look for neither Grail nor lady,
What look ye for to see, Gawaine, Gawaine?”
So Dagonet, whom Arthur made a knight
Because he loved him as he laughed at him,
Intoned his idle presence on a day
To Gawaine, who had thought himself alone,
Had there been in him thought of anything
Save what was murmured now in Camelot
Of Merlin’s hushed and all but unconfirmed
Appearance out of Brittany. It was heard
At first there was a ghost in Arthur’s palace,
But soon among the scullions and anon
Among the knights a firmer credit held
All tongues from uttering what all glances told—
Though not for long. Gawaine, this afternoon,
Fearing he might say more to Lancelot
Of Merlin’s rumor-laden resurrection
Than Lancelot would have an ear to cherish,
Had sauntered off with his imagination
To Merlin’s Rock, where now there was no Merlin
To meditate upon a whispering town
Below him in the silence.—Once he said
To Gawaine: “You are young; and that being so,
Behold the shining city of our dreams
And of our King.”—“Long live the King,” said Gawaine.—
“Long live the King,” said Merlin after him;
“Better for me that I shall not be King;
Wherefore I say again, Long live the King,
And add, God save him, also, and all kings—
All kings and queens. I speak in general.
Kings have I known that were but weary men
With no stout appetite for more than peace
That was not made for them.”—“Nor were they made
For kings,” Gawaine said, laughing.—“You are young,
Gawaine, and you may one day hold the world
Between your fingers, knowing not what it is
That you are holding. Better for you and me,
I think, that we shall not be kings.”
Gawaine,
Remembering Merlin’s words of long ago,
Frowned as he thought, and having frowned again,
He smiled and threw an acorn at a lizard:
“There’s more afoot and in the air to-day
Than what is good for Camelot. Merlin
May or may not know all, but he said well
To say to me that he would not be King.
Nor more would I be King.” Far down he gazed
On Camelot, until he made of it
A phantom town of many stillnesses,
Not reared for men to dwell in, or for kings
To reign in, without omens and obscure
Familiars to bring terror to their days;
For though a knight, and one as hard at arms
As any, save the fate-begotten few
That all acknowledged or in envy loathed,
He felt a foreign sort of creeping up
And down him, as of moist things in the dark,—
When Dagonet, coming on him unawares,
Presuming on his title of Sir Fool,
Addressed him and crooned on till he was done:
“What look ye for to see, Gawaine, Gawaine?”
“Sir Dagonet, you best and wariest
Of all dishonest men, I look through Time,
For sight of what it is that is to be.
I look to see it, though I see it not.
I see a town down there that holds a king,
And over it I see a few small clouds—
Like feathers in the west, as you observe;
And I shall see no more this afternoon
Than what there is around us every day,
Unless you have a skill that I have not
To ferret the invisible for rats.”
“If you see what’s around us every day,
You need no other showing to go mad.
Remember that and take it home with you;
And say tonight, ‘I had it of a fool—
With no immediate obliquity
For this one or for that one, or for me.’”
Gawaine, having risen, eyed the fool curiously:
“I’ll not forget I had it of a knight,
Whose only folly is to fool himself;
And as for making other men to laugh,
And so forget their sins and selves a little,
There’s no great folly there. So keep it up,
As long as you’ve a legend or a song,
And have whatever sport of us you like
Till havoc is the word and we fall howling.
For I’ve a guess there may not be so loud
A sound of laughing here in Camelot
When Merlin goes again to his gay grave
In Brittany. To mention lesser terrors,
Men say his beard is gone.”
“Do men say that?”
A twitch of an impatient weariness
Played for a moment over the lean face
Of Dagonet, who reasoned inwardly:
“The friendly zeal of this inquiring knight
Will overtake his tact and leave it squealing,
One of these days.”—Gawaine looked hard at him:
“If I be too familiar with a fool,
I’m on the way to be another fool,”
He mused, and owned a rueful qualm within him:
“Yes, Dagonet,” he ventured, with a laugh,
“Men tell me that his beard has vanished wholly,
And that he shines now as the Lord’s anointed,
And wears the valiance of an ageless youth
Crowned with a glory of eternal peace.”
Dagonet, smiling strangely, shook his head:
“I grant your valiance of a kind of youth
To Merlin, but your crown of peace I question;
For, though I know no more than any churl
Who pinches any chambermaid soever
In the King’s palace, I look not to Merlin
For peace, when out of his peculiar tomb
He comes again to Camelot. Time swings
A mighty scythe, and some day all your peace
Goes down before its edge like so much clover.
No, it is not for peace that Merlin comes,
Without a trumpet—and without a beard,
If what you say men say of him be true—
Nor yet for sudden war.”
Gawaine, for a moment,
Met then the ambiguous gaze of Dagonet,
And, making nothing of it, looked abroad
As if at something cheerful on all sides,
And back again to the fool’s unasking eyes:
“Well, Dagonet, if Merlin would have peace,
Let Merlin stay away from Brittany,”
Said he, with admiration for the man
Whom Folly called a fool: “And we have known him;
We knew him once when he knew everything.”
“He knew as much as God would let him know
Until he met the lady Vivian.
I tell you that, for the world knows all that;
Also it knows he told the King one day
That he was to be buried, and alive,
In Brittany; and that the King should see
The face of him no more. Then Merlin sailed
Away to Vivian in Broceliande,
Where now she crowns him and herself with flowers
And feeds him fruits and wines and many foods
Of many savors, and sweet ortolans.
Wise books of every lore of every land
Are there to fill his days, if he require them,
And there are players of all instruments—
Flutes, hautboys, drums, and viols; and she sings
To Merlin, till he trembles in her arms
And there forgets that any town alive
Had ever such a name as Camelot.
So Vivian holds him with her love, they say,
And he, who has no age, has not grown old.
I swear to nothing, but that’s what they say.
That’s being buried in Broceliande
For too much wisdom and clairvoyancy.
But you and all who live, Gawaine, have heard
This tale, or many like it, more than once;
And you must know that Love, when Love invites
Philosophy to play, plays high and wins,
Or low and loses. And you say to me,
‘If Merlin would have peace, let Merlin stay
Away from Brittany.’ Gawaine, you are young,
And Merlin’s in his grave.”
“Merlin said once
That I was young, and it’s a joy for me
That I am here to listen while you say it.
Young or not young, if that be burial,
May I be buried long before I die.
I might be worse than young; I might be old.”—
Dagonet answered, and without a smile:
“Somehow I fancy Merlin saying that;
A fancy—a mere fancy.” Then he smiled:
“And such a doom as his may be for you,
Gawaine, should your untiring divination
Delve in the veiled eternal mysteries
Too far to be a pleasure for the Lord.
And when you stake your wisdom for a woman,
Compute the woman to be worth a grave,
As Merlin did, and say no more about it.
But Vivian, she played high. Oh, very high!
Flutes, hautboys, drums, and viols,—and her love.
Gawaine, farewell.”
“Farewell, Sir Dagonet,
And may the devil take you presently.”
He followed with a vexed and envious eye,
And with an arid laugh, Sir Dagonet’s
Departure, till his gaunt obscurity
Was cloaked and lost amid the glimmering trees.
“Poor fool!” he murmured. “Or am I the fool?
With all my fast ascendency in arms,
That ominous clown is nearer to the King
Than I am—yet; and God knows what he knows,
And what his wits infer from what he sees
And feels and hears. I wonder what he knows
Of Lancelot, or what I might know now,
Could I have sunk myself to sound a fool
To springe a friend.… No, I like not this day.
There’s a cloud coming over Camelot
Larger than any that is in the sky,—
Or Merlin would be still in Brittany,
With Vivian and the viols. It’s all too strange.”
And later, when descending to the city,
Through unavailing casements he could hear
The roaring of a mighty voice within,
Confirming fervidly his own conviction:
“It’s all too strange, and half the world’s half crazy!”—
He scowled: “Well, I agree with Lamorak.”
He frowned, and passed: “And I like not this day.”
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Survived... Beyond And Back
When my death came, I mourned my loss... and yet what could be done?
But suddenly I saw The Cross and Jesus Christ, God's Son...
I stared at Him a long, long while, above the ground below,
Where Jesus walked the second mile with warm blood still in flow...
Lord Jesus bled from hair and head, from back and hands and feet,
Till suddenly God's Son was dead, His sacrifice complete...
And in that second, I screamed out, enraged despite my grief
And in the crowd I ran about in utter disbelief...
They let Him die, they saw it all, they made me mad as Hell!
As if He were their spectacle and they were in a spell...
A sword appeared in my left hand, a voice said, 'Kill, kill, kill! '
Yet God made me to understand that Christ obeyed His will...
The sword fell down upon the ground as I gasped in surprise,
To see my King with thorns now crowned above His blood-stained eyes.
I trembled as my rage still burned, then fell down to my knees...
Here was the Saviour they had spurned despite His Mother's pleas...
I heard God's voice bid me depart and I went back to Earth
And there I wept with broken heart as if Man had no worth...
As if we all should go to Hell, no mercy to us shown,
As if we all should say farewell to all the joys we've known...
Somehow I slept, no more to weep, right there upon the floor,
Yet God gave me a dream to keep, to share for evermore...
I saw lost souls, so dark, depraved, a billion spared by Christ,
For by His blood their souls were saved when life was sacrificed...
And only then did my rage leave, as precious peace took hold,
With no more reason left to grieve through what I saw unfold...
God's mysteries remain as His, they last eternally,
As long as we know who Christ is... The King of Calvary...
Denis Martindale, copyright, June 2012.
The poem is based on the Biography Channel
which has shared the life stories of some who
died yet came back with accounts of Heaven
and some of Hell. In this poem, I'm exploring
how someone responds to the death of Jesus.
Initial rage is based upon human understanding.
God's Word reveals His eternal plan of salvation.
Whether we will accept near death experiences,
dreams, visions, prophecy or poetry, we are
meant to accept God's Word, the Holy Bible.
We can hear the word of the Lord on
Revelation TV on UK Sky Digital 581
as well as the WATCH NOW link on
the revelationtv-dot-com website...
poem by Denis Martindale

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Morgana Le Fay
Many mystic stories about the Lady Morgana are told
About her being a priestesses intelligent and very bold
Ahead of her time she may've been the Merlin's student
She had a child with her brother Arthur and was prudent
Her oratory was artistically defined powerfull and strong
During her life time she already was a legend and had a song
Living in the mists of Avalon she was a fairy and very small
Brooding over the powers of King Arthur one can recall
She used manipulative methods that were underhanded
She danced naked under the moon when the craft demanded
Morgana was beautiful with long black hair and fair skin
She used her sexuality combined with magic to surely win
Morgana inflicted pain and destruction while being daring
She demanded the crown and kingdom no word of sharing
Morgana so different from the more popular Guinevere
Caused the King's adultery as Camille with results severe
But later she remains with the king her brother until his death
Escorting him on his final trip to Avalon in great distress
The stories of strong women of past times and generations
Causing men to shiver and voice doubts fears and allegations
How Morgana would be observed during modern times today
We can't say because what she did would still be foul play
So Morgana remains a mystery and her life's forces unclear
We may look at her as a first feminist - kind of as a pioneer
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Without The Lord
To live one day without The Lord, is one day you cannot afford,
To live this life on your own, without the Power from His Throne,
While your life God shall fill, with the Spirit’s Power, per His will,
As God powers your daily life, when you walk with Jesus Christ.
For you it’s not a great sacrifice, as The Lord has paid the price,
When He died for you and me, on that bloody Cross of Calvary;
Where He died, for sinners like us, and all we have to do is trust,
In His finished work, on the cross, paid by Christ for sinners lost.
Christ had suffered all the pain, to grant to believers Eternal gain,
He grants, when we truly believe, when The Holy Spirit we receive,
His Spirit of Wisdom and Power, providing us each day and hour,
Being our teacher and our guide, as God’s Spirit now lives inside.
The Spirit goes before us every day, as we walk life’s narrow way,
Supplying strength for life’s race, as He guides us place to place,
In times of trial He grants peace, that from Christ, shall not cease,
With His presence and His light, that overcomes the dark of night.
We gain all this and so much more, when we know Christ as Lord,
With the best, still yet to come, as we labor for Christ’s Kingdom,
God’s Kingdom that has no end, with Christ as our Eternal Friend,
So before you let this day depart, allow the Savior into your heart.
(Copyright ©07/2009)
First Death In Nova Scotia
In the cold, cold parlor
my mother laid out Arthur
beneath the chromographs:
Edward, Prince of Wales,
with Princess Alexandra,
and King George with Queen Mary.
Below them on the table
stood a stuffed loon
shot and stuffed by Uncle
Arthur, Arthur's father.
Since Uncle Arthur fired
a bullet into him,
he hadn't said a word.
He kept his own counsel
on his white, frozen lake,
the marble-topped table.
His breast was deep and white,
cold and caressable;
his eyes were red glass,
much to be desired.
"Come," said my mother,
"Come and say good-bye
to your little cousin Arthur."
I was lifted up and given
one lily of the valley
to put in Arthur's hand.
Arthur's coffin was
a little frosted cake,
and the red-eyed loon eyed it
from his white, frozen lake.
Arthur was very small.
He was all white, like a doll
that hadn't been painted yet.
Jack Frost had started to paint him
the way he always painted
the Maple Leaf (Forever).
He had just begun on his hair,
a few red strokes, and then
Jack Frost had dropped the brush
and left him white, forever.
The gracious royal couples
were warm in red and ermine;
their feet were well wrapped up
in the ladies' ermine trains.
They invited Arthur to be
the smallest page at court.
But how could Arthur go,
clutching his tiny lily,
with his eyes shut up so tight
and the roads deep in snow?
poem by Elizabeth Bishop

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
He’s Mindful Of
The Eternal God who reigns above, knows everything I’m thinking of,
And knowing my heart’s every care, I have never a reason to despair.
For He set the entire world in place, by His mighty Power and Grace,
And as Eternal God and King, He controls this world and everything.
My life today is in God’s hand, even those things I don’t understand,
But, I truly know that in my Lord, my troubled heart can rest assured.
As God set the limits of the earth, and He offers to men a New Birth,
Through His Grace to all of those, who in His Mercy, God has chose.
It is The Lord above, whom I trust, even though my frame is but dust,
God, who gave to me Eternal Life, this in His Only Son, Jesus Christ.
And it’s Christ, who does guide me, in ways that I do not always see,
Who alone began a work in me, which shall continue through Eternity.
So when my heart really gets down, a peace alone, in Christ is found,
Which alone, can relieve any fear, for Christ my Savior is always near.
And there is nothing that I can hide, from His Spirit who dwells inside,
Who continues with me everywhere, even through every trial and care.
Christ is my Guide and my Friend, Who shall be with me until the end,
To help me up wherever I may fall, for Christ is The Eternal God of all,
Never hindered by the will of man, I am fully secure within God’s Plan,
As I journey upon the earthly sod, protected by Christ’s staff and rod.
(Copyright ©06/2009)
King Ryence's Challenge
As it fell out on a Pentecost day,
King Arthur at Camelot kept his court royall,
With his faire queen dame Guenever the gay,
And many bold barons sitting in hall,
With ladies attired in purple and pall,
And heraults in hewkes, hooting on high,
Cryed, Largesse, Largesse, Chevaliers tres-hardie.
A doughty dwarfe to the uppermost deas
Right pertlye gan pricke, kneeling on knee;
With steven fulle stoute amids all the preas,
Say'd, 'Nowe Sir King Arthur, God save thee and see!
Sir Ryence of North-Gales greeteth well thee,
And bids thee thy beard anon to him send,
Or else from thy jaws he will it off rend.
'For his robe of state is a rich scarlet mantle,
With eleven kings beards bordered about,
And there is room lefte yet in a kantle,
For thine to stande, to make the twelfth out.
This must be done, be thou never so stout;
This must be done, I tell thee no fable,
Maugre the teethe of all thy Round Table.'
When this mortal message from his mouthe past,
Great was the noyse bothe in hall and in bower:
The king fum'd; the queene screecht; ladies were aghast;
Princes puff'd; barons blustred; lords began lower;
Knights stormed; squires startled, like steeds in a stower;
Pages and yeoman yell'd out in the hall;
Then in came Sir Kay, the 'king's' seneschal.
'Silence, my soveraignes,' quoth this courteous knight,
And in that stound the stowre began still:
'Then' the dwarfe's diner full deerely was dight;
Of wine and wassel he had his wille,
And when he had eaten and drunken his fill,
An hundred pieces of fine coyned gold
Were given this dwarf for this message bold.
'But say to Sir Ryence, thou dwarf,' quoth the king,
'That for his bold message I do him defye,
And shortlye with basins and pans will him ring
Out of North-Gales; where he and I
With swords, and not razors, quickly shall trye,
Whether he, or King Arthur, will prove the best barbor:'
And therewith he shook his good sword Escalabor.
*******
poem by Anonymous Olde English

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Silver Tears Yet Golden Years
Our babies' tears are commonplace,
They cry at anything...
Yet when I looked at Christ's sad face,
Those tears were from a king...
Not just a king, not just a lord,
But total royalty...
And from His death, I stood assured,
Because He died for me...
Disciples know sins have a price,
An innocent must die...
With Christ, a willing sacrifice,
The cost to Him was high...
With no way out, He shed His Blood,
To mingle with His tears...
Forgiveness through the Son of God
That trickles through the years...
A billion prayers are prayed each day
By saints across the world,
Declaring Jesus is The Way,
Triumphant, arms unfurled...
With miracles for young and old,
With prophecies so true,
To be fulfilled as good as gold
And visions meant for you...
Behold, the challenge! Save the lost!
Declare Good News to all,
Lord Jesus Christ has paid the cost!
Explained by Brother Paul...
Like John and James and Peter taught,
In Bible books preserved,
Our precious souls by Christ were bought,
By God's grace, through His Word...
No man can boast he saved his soul
With sins against his name,
For sins when he lost self-control
That cause his conscience shame,
Yet Jesus takes those sins away!
As far from East to West,
His Royal Pardon saves the day!
Through Him, this world is blessed...
But who believes God's great Good News?
Salvation! Saved by faith!
Made plain to Gentiles and to Jews,
So that they might be brave...
Enough to kneel, to pray, to yield,
To trust in Christ the King...
Obedient to God's grace revealed...
To me, that's everything!
When Christ returns, who will He find
Who's faithful to the end?
Who wants to leave this world behind
And join Him as their friend,
To leave their house, their street, their town,
The planet Earth below...
Past silver tears still falling down
For golden years to know?
Denis Martindale, copyright, March 2012.
We can hear the word of the Lord on
Revelation TV on UK Sky Digital 581
as well as the WATCH NOW link on
the revelationtv-dot-com website...
poem by Denis Martindale

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Gethsemane Miracle!
Alone He walked for private prayer, disciples holding fast,
Christ's countenance that of despair, His hour had come at last.
Gethsemane was quiet now, as twilight there encroached,
As Christ's head bore a bloodied brow, temptation thus approached.
And there were whispers in His mind that matched His fearful heart,
Perhaps the Cross of Christ to find, perhaps chance to depart.
Was there still hope? Or some way out? Was there escape for Him?
Or was there now no single doubt, God's cup filled to the brim?
Lord Jesus prayed as trembling hands conveyed His weakened state,
Obedience to God's commands or some new twist of fate?
Three times to pray the cup might pass, in case God chose this path,
Three times and each with mercy scarce, one choice, Christ's epitaph.
And then an angel there appeared to strengthen Christ with faith,
Convincing Him that though death neared, Christ only Man could save.
For that one angel, give God praise, he helped the Lord stay true,
For blessed is He who still obeys and sees salvation through.
Who knows what words were said that night as Jesus stood His ground?
For courage came instead of fright, with God's grace all around.
And though disciples slept nearby, fatigued by all they'd done,
The Saviour's faith was flying high, like eagles 'neath the sun.
He groaned that they no angel saw, that blessing they had missed!
Then came the traitor to the fore and he, Christ's cheek had kissed.
The hour here, the Lord stood still, no coward soul was He,
Because He climbed up Calvary's hill, the rest is history.
The time will come, when each is called to give the Lord account,
Of each word spoken, typed or scrawled, of great and small amount.
Yet if we saw an angel here, like Jesus did that time,
Perhaps we'd find bold faith not fear and lives would be sublime.
Behind the scenes, a war is waged, as good and evil fight,
If evil makes you so enraged, then fight with all your might.
To think, that angels visit Earth, to think that one helped Christ.
And though unnamed, each one has worth, more than we've realised...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
We can hear the word of the Lord on
Revelation TV on UK Sky Digital 581
as well as the WATCH NOW link on
the revelationtv-dot-com website...
poem by Denis Martindale

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Don’t Be Left Not Knowing
You’ll never know until you do, ask The Lord to rescue you,
From a life of sin and shame, when you call upon His name;
You’ll never know God’s Love, until He reaches from above,
To lift you from the angry waves, as another soul He saves.
It’s Jesus Christ and only Him, who can rescue us from sin,
To alter your present destiny, through the Cross of Calvary;
A destiny that ends not here, but, in Heaven’s Atmosphere,
The place that only you can go, if The Lord, you truly know.
If Truth, you’ve never heard, just open up God’s Holy Word,
You’ll see with your own eyes, as Truth from the pages rise,
When you open up your heart, Truth God’s Spirit will impart,
To guide you in Truth you read, as you let God’s Spirit lead.
Truth alone will set you free, open your eyes and you’ll see,
What Truth, you may not know, The Scriptures clearly show,
God’s Truth is a sure foundation, of New Life and Salvation,
New Life provided by Grace, when Christ you truly embrace.
From God’s Truth you will know, as God helps you to grow,
That everything, in this life, is held together by Jesus Christ;
Don’t be left not knowing friend, about a life you can spend,
With The Lord Jesus Christ, in an eternity, know as Paradise.
(Copyright ©04/2010)
William Francis Bartlett
Oh, well may Essex sit forlorn
Beside her sea-blown shore;
Her well beloved, her noblest born,
Is hers in life no more!
No lapse of years can render less
Her memory's sacred claim;
No fountain of forgetfulness
Can wet the lips of Fame.
A grief alike to wound and heal,
A thought to soothe and pain,
The sad, sweet pride that mothers feel
To her must still remain.
Good men and true she has not lacked,
And brave men yet shall be;
The perfect flower, the crowning fact,
Of all her years was he!
As Galahad pure, as Merlin sage,
What worthier knight was found
To grace in Arthur's golden age
The fabled Table Round?
A voice, the battle's trumpet-note,
To welcome and restore;
A hand, that all unwilling smote,
To heal and build once more;
A soul of fire, a tender heart
Too warm for hate, he knew
The generous victor's graceful part
To sheathe the sword he drew.
When Earth, as if on evil dreams,
Looks back upon her wars,
And the white light of Christ outstreams
From the red disk of Mars,
His fame who led the stormy van
Of battle well may cease,
But never that which crowns the man
Whose victory was Peace.
Mourn, Essex, on thy sea-blown shore
Thy beautiful and brave,
Whose failing hand the olive bore,
Whose dying lips forgave!
Let age lament the youthful chief,
And tender eyes be dim;
The tears are more of joy than grief
That fall for one like him!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Lasting Peace
True lasting peace God shall birth, on this present troubled earth,
His lasting peace soon will come, through Jesus for a millennium.
Peace will flourish all around; when for a time Satan will be bound,
For a time of one thousand years, He’ll put away all present fears.
It will be a time for all men to see, God’s Glorious King of Eternity,
Reigning per His Father’s will, and from Jerusalem, God’s Holy Hill.
True peace installed shore to shore, by our Savior, Christ The Lord,
Peace in every land and nation, by God’s redemption and salvation.
This peace ushered in by Christ, will indeed affect every single life.
For God’s Righteous Law will be, enforced as His universal decree.
All who oppose the Law of God, will see firsthand Christ’s Iron Rod,
For the rebellious heart of man, in Christ’s Kingdom shall not stand.
All men will be under Christ’s Rule, a Righteous reign far from cruel,
Under Christ’s Millennial Reign, gone shall be man’s terror and pain.
Every nation will have a place, in the kingdom through God’s Grace,
Even Israel’s unrighteous enemies, will have a place in God’s peace.
God’s Millennial Reign of Righteousness, shall usher in eternal bliss,
As Satan bound, will now be cast, into the fire that will eternally last.
Gone shall be death and sin, with only righteousness reigning within,
Each and every soul forevermore, eternally serving Christ their Lord.
(08/2007)
Christ Came
Christ came to earth to walk with us, to help us walk with God in trust,
And to trust God with our very life, through His Only Son Jesus Christ.
This trust in which we place in God, goes far beyond this earthly sod,
Trust on earth that moves to Grace, and leads us to an eternal place.
Christ came and gave His life for sin, so we could give our life to Him,
So that we could walk upon the earth, through the power of New Birth.
Christ told Nicodemus that all men, to see Heaven must be born again,
Born anew through the Spirit of Christ; born again to inherit Eternal Life.
Christ came to this earth to proclaim, Hope and Salvation in His Name,
God’s Salvation available to everyone, through His Only Begotten Son.
Christ’s earthly life ended on the cross, a bridge of Hope for all the lost,
For through His death and resurrection, He gives all life a new direction.
Christ came so we can be God’s own, and gain from Him a new home,
An eternal one in Heaven above, where we’ll live forever in God’s Love.
By Christ coming to be a sacrifice, The Lord paid our way into Paradise,
Far beyond earth’s temporal shore, to dwell in God’s Glory forevermore.
Christ came to bring Hope and Peace, that in His Power will not cease,
When He reigns on earth as King, and The Lord and God of everything.
Christ’s Reign shall include all those, who believe that Christ truly rose,
So believe and reign forevermore, when Christ reigns as King and Lord.
(Copyright ©12/2006)