Nap of monarch's wing
On nap of monarch's wing have I not flown?
Done crossed times mortal ravages
Into that livery my king holds his throne
Save all; but these wolfs and savages.
Did I not unfurl unto such cherub reaches?
Cocooning; scatter my minds, lustrous web.
Fly over blue vaporous sparking beaches
Did I not crumble ashore and ebb?
Like some oily driftwood haven't I rolled...?
Prodigiously darker in nonchalant waves
Emphatic is the harvest moon I behold:
Oh—edify my soul with one that saves?
The monarch's beauty is but royally savaged
The landscape of any hungry larvae ravaged.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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The monarch
Monarch guarantees
Kingship for life time
And inheritance of throne.
So king need not be corrupt.
The king himself the judge,
Unanswerable and unquestionable,
He becomes an autocrat.
Is monarch good or bad?
09.03.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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You are a king by your own fireside, as much as any monarch in his throne.
quote by Miguel de Cervantes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Distant Kind Of Love
A dove calls her mate in the moon
But a sea wind calls, go not to soon...
For the night is young in circles new
The waves are rolling deep and blue.
So' it is for you; the world was made
To lift your feathers above the wave!
So dip your wing tips in salt rock air
Brave a poles ivory stair; if you dare!
For it's here your true loves heart lies
Anchored beneath the lustrous skies
Wave over wave- wing on wing!
The dove white creature clung, curing...
Until the sun in past shadows flame
Up and blessed the birds dead name
For the night is young in circles new
The waves are rolling deep and blue.
Wave over wave- wing on wing!
That dove white creature sort to cling...
Curing... deeper and deeper
Rolling... deeper and deeper
The little dove flew
To the heart of the moon,
To that part of the moon,
That could be you...
poem by Mark Heathcote
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While in Goa!
Coming to you Oh! city of beaches
Ever nice your plesaure when someone reaches
Everyone dreams of the times to visit
A journey off the sun into a cool spirit
Pleasing is your weather which calmness teaches
Coming to you Oh! city of beaches
Ever nice your plesaure when someone reaches
Breeze of the coconut trees within a mile
The sea has an instinct of sudden smile
Healing of the shore offers gathering of riches
Coming to you Oh! city of beaches
Ever nice your plesaure when someone reaches
poem by by unknown author
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Joshua
When Joshua in the days of old
Stood forth upon old Jordan’s bank,
And past the flood that backward rolled
His host came dryshod, rank on rank;
The warrior angel of the Lord,
A glorious shining creature, bared
Before him there a flaming sword,
And thus the mind of God declared—
“Lo, I am with you! Here shall dwell
My chosen people; here I plant thee, Israel!”
The walls of Jericho are strong,
And ribbed throughout with many a tower,
And yet her monarch’s armed throng
Stand trembling round his throne of power;
For circling still those walls about,
Behold the Ark of God is borne!
Blow, trumphets, blow! Shout, Israel, shout!
’Tis done, and from the earth uptorn
At once they scatter and disform
Like the grey, cloud-built bastions of a bursting storm.
Five kings at Gibeon are met,
Five mighty kings of ancient name,
And they are boasting they will set
A blood-red bound to Joshua’s fame.
But the sun stands fast on Gibeon’s hill,
And the moon is fixed o’er Ajalon,
That Israel’s host in vengeance still
Floodlike may spread God’s victory on!
And where are now those kings? Yon cave
Hides them in vain, or hides them only as their grave.
Thus Israel, in the days of old
Led by that prophet of the Lord,
Like a devouring tempest rolled
Destructive o’er each race abhorred;
And all their war, how little worth
To work ’gainst that prevailing sword
In Israel’s front far flaming forth,
For what are numbers to the Lord?
That multitudinous array
Broke, melting as it rolled like morning mist away
poem by Charles Harpur
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Monarch And Gods
Indicating the monarch collides with flight,
This is the moment of truth, a fetching of wood.
Monastery after monastery resides in this tower,
The momentum of life is for an album of custom,
Bothersome like a cannibal it creates a life to be,
The bosom of laughter is this cannibal.
You require calcium, to pursue your sports
As of now, as of this moment and momentum.
A bonus is recreation, my monarch loves this,
And at the top is an atheism conquering minds.
Even Athens knows this sport of the classical world,
One of flying among heroes, delving into gods
That do not hear or listen or receive worship.
This monarch is momentary unlike the Greek gods
That understand us all the time, but what are they?
poem by Naveed Akram
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A King in Exile
O THE Queen may keep her golden
Crown and sceptre of command!
I would give them both twice over
To be King of Babyland.
Sure, it is a wondrous country
Where the beanstalks grow apace,
And so very near the moon is
You could almost stroke her face.
And the dwellers in that country
Hold in such esteem their King,
They believe that if he chooses
He can do—just anything!
And, although his regal stature
May be only four-feet-ten,
Think him tallest, strongest, bravest,
Noblest, wisest, best of men.
Ah, how fondly I remember
The good time serene and fair,
In the bygone years when I, too,
Was a reigning monarch there!
But my subjects they discrowned me
When they’d older, colder, grown;
And they took away my sceptre,
And upset my royal throne.
Yet, although a King in Exile,
Without subjects to command,
I am glad at heart to think I
Once was King of Babyland.
poem by Victor James Daley
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Monarchs, Hated.
Monarch...
Butterfly or king.
Dicktator, or Nature's beauty.
The first, usually being ugly,
The second, a creature of beauty.
The first, a dikhead...
That, all wish dead.
A butterfly, floating over head...
It's beautied, fulfilling duty.
Monarchs-twice...
Of men and mice.
poem by Michael Gale
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Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
As in a sack some thing washed in:
And lay amidst the shells
And pebbles of the shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
Ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
One eye was closed the other open
And on her golden hair
Were drops of red:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
How many winters rude have skimmed
Their frozen fingers on the white breast
Of the pale moon-lit lake a-dreaming sound
How many a Spring of green
Has come and gone:
Since that ashore, ashore with the tide’s flow
The sea-waves washed her in
Her clothes that rich were tattered were
Unseemly with the smoke of cigars
And the drunk smell of alcohol
Her look was wild and sad and raw:
Wild lapped the sea-waves and the cloud
Frowned on the sea-shore
Amidst the lapping of the waters rude
And the sea-waves’ roar.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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Butterfly Darque
Butterfly Darque
==============
Wing And A Prayer,
Two To Soar,
High Above,
Or Way Spirit Down,
Darkest Wing,
A Prayer There Be,
A Solitary Standout,
From The Crowd,
Of Maddening Groupies,
Domination Monarch,
Blackest Wing,
Of Night There Be,
Look-a-like Moth,
Butterfly Wings,
Wonder In Genus...
Soars Like Butterfly!
There Can Be,
A Man You Seek,
Single In Soul,
High Alone,
Low In Spirits,
Flies Up High,
Appears Down Low,
Day Bound Glow,
When As Darque,
Wing To Shed,
Of The Night,
Bound Morose,
Fly Below,
Appear Above,
A Wing And A Prayer...
Soars Like Butterfly!
poem by Ricardo Antunes
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Ocean
When looking at the ocean at sunset
I feel tranquillity and calmness
A feeling that the ocean is submitting
To the sun at this time
If only we understood her purpose
Her beauty
And all that she holds within her belly
The swelling of her waters
Bursting into waves
Rushing ashore
Mesmerizing
Her healing to man
Mind Body and soul
20: 09: 12
poem by Persian Khushi
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The King Of Brentford
There was a king in Brentford,—of whom no legends tell,
But who, without his glory,—could eat and sleep right well.
His Polly's cotton nightcap,—it was his crown of state,
He slept of evenings early,—and rose of mornings late.
All in a fine mud palace,—each day he took four meals,
And for a guard of honor,—a dog ran at his heels,
Sometimes, to view his kingdoms,—rode forth this monarch good,
And then a prancing jackass—he royally bestrode.
There were no costly habits—with which this king was curst,
Except (and where's the harm on't?)—a somewhat lively thirst;
But people must pay taxes,—and kings must have their sport,
So out of every gallon—His Grace he took a quart.
He pleased the ladies round him,—with manners soft and bland;
With reason good, they named him,—the father of his land.
Each year his mighty armies—marched forth in gallant show;
Their enemies were targets—their bullets they were tow.
He vexed no quiet neighbor,—no useless conquest made,
But by the laws of pleasure,—his peaceful realm he swayed.
And in the years he reigned,—through all this country wide,
There was no cause for weeping,—save when the good man died.
The faithful men of Brentford,—do still their king deplore,
His portrait yet is swinging,— beside an alehouse door.
And topers, tender-hearted,—regard his honest phiz,
And envy times departed—that knew a reign like his.
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
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The Sun
Long after midnight has fallen
a hush falls throughout the land
as dawn slowly approaches
to once more colourize the land.
A magic revitalization
from millions of miles away.
Each petal will unfurl
under this magic eye
that looks down upon us
from beyond the blue sky.
Sleepy heads will yawn
and awaken with its warmth,
as beauty will colour
night’s landscape bleak.
When the sun nudges the moon to sleep.
26 March 2010
poem by David Harris
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Gordale’s Raven King
On Gordale’s lofty, craggy heights
Which, riven, grasp heavens in their maw
The royal raven claimed his rights
In croaking, harsh, imperious caw.
In regal pomp he sat, surveyed
And scanned his limestone-pillared hall
Anthracite plumage bright displayed
Yet still a speck on cliff so tall.
Then, stretching wide his gloss-black wings,
He plunged, his feathered flight to forge
And, emulating mighty kings,
He viewed the empire of his gorge.
But, as he soared towards the sun,
Subduing subjects ’neath crowned head,
A poacher raised his mortal gun
And shot the cackling monarch dead.
So now, in Gordale’s gaping cleft,
Hushed, rugged rocks are loath to ring
Harsh echoes, since they are bereft
Of avian monarch, raven king.
poem by C. Richard Miles
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The Moon; A King
Sat upon an earthen throne:
The moon; a king.
Forever cursed to rule alone:
The moon; a king.
With bright celestial crown of stars:
The moon; a king.
So weary from battle and tattooed with scars:
The moon; a king.
poem by Eoin Smith
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To the Queen
The Door of Death is made of Gold,
That Mortal Eyes cannot behold;
But, when the Mortal Eyes are clos'd,
And cold and pale the Limbs repos'd,
The Soul awakes; and, wond'ring, sees
In her mild Hand the golden Keys:
The Grave is Heaven's golden Gate,
And rich and poor around it wait;
O Shepherdess of England's Fold,
Behold this Gate of Pearl and Gold!
To dedicate to England's Queen
The Visions that my Soul has seen,
And, by Her kind permission, bring
What I have borne on solemn Wing,
From the vast regions of the Grave,
Before Her Throne my Wings I wave;
Bowing before my Sov'reign's Feet,
“The Grave produc'd these Blossoms sweet
“In mild repose from Earthly strife;
“The Blossoms of Eternal Life!”
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1794)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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God Save The King
God save great George our king
Long live our noble king,
God save the king.
Send him victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us,
God save the king.
O Lord our God arise,
Scatter his enemies,
And make them fall:
Confound their politics,
Frustrate their knavish tricks,
On him our hopes we fix,
God save us all.
Thy choicest gifts in store,
On him be pleas'd to pour,
Long may he reign.
May he defend our laws,
And ever give us cause,
To sing with heart and voice
God save the king.
Lord grant that Marshal Wade
May by thy mighty aid
Victory bring.
May he sedition hush,
And like a torrent rush,
Rebellious Scots to crush,
God save the king.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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God’s Lights
Morning’s painting on the sky above, covers this earth like a glove,
Clouds covered by the sun’s rays, filling earth with abundant praise.
With yet another day to unfold, of God’s wonderful Glory to behold,
The beauty fills hearts and minds, with awe for God’s grand design.
Before the sun is overhead, God paints the clouds a gorgeous red,
This as He moves earth out of night, into the brightness of daylight.
At times the sunlight He shrouds, hiding the sun behind the clouds,
Clouds God paints upon the sky, as wide and vast as they are high.
Although the sun is hid from sight, God keeps it there till fall of night,
Then it’s truly veiled from all eyes, by the ever darker evening skies.
When God shows us another side, as He allows the daylight to hide,
As night’s ushered in by Heaven, God’s lesser light starts to descend.
Now under an ever darker canopy, with lights far as the eye can see,
And the moon above phase by phase, to count both nights and days,
God starts with a new moon friend, with the full moon at month’s end.
This is how God lights the skies, above a world that is filled with eyes.
Lights placed above for all to see, by the hand of The God of Eternity.
The Greatest Light we cannot see; The One who died for you and me.
The Light of Christ soon will shine, from the Eternal City for all of time,
No more need of the moon or sun, for the only Light will be God’s Son.
The Birds Of Passage
Birds, joyous birds of the wandering wing!
Whence is it ye come with the flowers of spring?
–'We come from the shores of the green old Nile,
From the land where the roses of Sharon smile,
From the palms that wave thro' the Indian sky,
From the myrrh-trees of glowing Araby.
'We have swept o'er cities in song renown'd,–
Silent they lie with the deserts round!
We have cross'd proud rivers, whose tide hath roll'd
All dark with the warrior-blood of old;
And each worn wing hath regain'd its home,
Under peasant's roof-tree, or monarch's dome.'
And what have ye found in the monarch's dome,
Since last ye travers'd the blue sea's foam?
–'We have found a change, we have found a pall,
And a gloom o'ershadowing the banquet's hall,
And a mark on the floor as of life-drops spilt,–
Nought looks the same, save the nest we built!'
Oh! joyous birds, it hath still been so;
Thro' the halls of kings doth the tempest go!
But the huts of the hamlet lie still and deep,
And the hills o'er their quiet a vigil keep.–
Say what have ye found in the peasant's cot,
Since last ye parted from that sweet spot?
'A change we have found there–and many a change!
Faces, and footsteps, and all things strange!
Gone are the heads of the silvery hair,
And the young that were, have a brow of care,
And the place is hush'd where the children play'd,–
Nought looks the same, save the nest we made!'
Sad is your tale of the beautiful earth,
Birds that o'ersweep it in power and mirth!
Yet thro' the wastes of the trackless air,
Ye have a Guide, and shall we despair?
Ye over desert and deep have pass'd,–
So may we reach our bright home at last!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
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Dark Times Will Come
The darker things seem to be, the more we think of Eternity,
Knowing there’s a day ahead, without all the fear and dread,
A day that simply has no end, a day without night my friend,
That time we look forward to, should strengthen me and you.
Present things we see at hand, men cannot fully understand,
Yet we have knowledge of, the Plan of our Savior up above,
A plan that’s not shaken by, fallen man, whatever he may try,
Attempting rule on his own, dismissing God’s Eternal Throne.
And all the while, as man tries, he is lead by the father of lies,
Believing not in God at all, he seduces mankind to further fall,
Leading man in all his ways, only into even much darker days,
On to be judged by the Lord, the very one man tries to ignore.
But, for all those who believe, from Eternal God, they receive,
His special measure of grace, during the darker times we face,
As darker times come to fulfill, God’s Purpose and God’s Will,
He holds us during every test, while in His Hand we safely rest.
And we will be delivered from, that darker hour, soon to come,
Removed to be with our Lord, as His Wrath on earth is poured,
Destroying all the dark of night, to usher in God’s Eternal Light,
As Righteousness is restored, by the Reign of Christ, our Lord.
(Copyright ©03/2009)