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Best Hero Poems

Below are the all-time best Hero poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of hero poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Prefer To See Our Hero Win by Fisher, David
Zack's Hero by Curtis, Jerry T
My Hero by Whispering-Breathless, Willow
My Super Hero by Basu, Manimala
My Sister Our Hero by Born, Michelle
God Is Our Hero by johnson, randy
An American Hero by Phillips, Tiffany
A Super Hero In Dress by Ellison, Jack
MY HERO by Ngo, Meline

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The Best Hero Poems

Details | Hero Poem | |

Hidden Beauty

Hidden beauty I know can dwell
within a body worn and frail.
I think of one who had been doled
great miseries, so once grown old,
his body seemed a dismal shell. .  

Although he’d lived on earth his hell,
grown nearly crippled and unwell,
his inner fortitude was gold -
                                         Hidden beauty!

Life’s many hardships could not quell
his positivity, nor fell 
that strength - his fire against the cold -
a virtue that should be extolled!
In knowing him, I well could tell
                                            hidden beauty.

written in the wee hours of Jan. 22, 2015

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich

More great poems below...

Details | Hero Poem | |

The Portrait

He cloaked her skin with a dark silk gown made of tattered wings neath the hunter' skies He covered her hair with a mourning veil Upon her face his hands did play Mysteriously the vacant gaze the secret pains His brush did paint the monaliza's eyes upon her lips he carved a smile with no expressions nor expectations of what one is to behold Enigmatic, Suffocating Secret whispers still untold Ghostly mist will keep on lingering in the silence of her soul There she stares from the old portrait Would somebody let her go? He stares He ponders Was this the girl who entered his dream? Did he paint her pain? Was she the same? Lush lips that couldn't smile Sullen eyes that couldn't lie telling of strife unable to bloom sheltered from the light Futures slowed Hopes dashed Dreams crushed Was he to save her? Thoughts echoed in his mind Is he her savior? Her mystery? Her hero? Will he fly to her side? Will he be her star that shines? Listen closely the portrait calls save me, come save me

Copyright © Cupids Arrow

Details | Hero Poem | |

Unsung Hero - The Soldier

Unsung Hero – The Soldier

Warily he stood at the corner,
Wondering which way to turn.
A weary smile on his faded brow,
As he held out an old worn-out hat hoping for handouts,
A few miserly pennies or perhaps, even a piece of bread.

This once proud soldier,
Now reduced to being a petty beggar,
Was a remnant of a cruel war;
Where he once stood side-by-side with his comrades
And helplessly watched them fall one-by-one.

Cruel memories haunted his saddened heart,
As he each day he desperately tried to survive, 
Wondering if it would have been better
If he too on the bloody battlefield had died - 
But there was no real answer.

Maybe it was good that he had done his duty
Fighting for those who couldn’t. 
But now he was forgotten and forlorn, 
With no honor, no glory,
He was just a nobody.

With warm tears streaming down his cold cheeks,
Even now he thought of his fallen comrades, 
Questioning if they were really in a better place -
What if?

His thoughts about his tortured past
Continued to cling to him, 
Like the tattered coat 
He wore during the day,
And used for a pillow at night.

In his mind, he was still on the battlefield, 
Only this time he battled invisible foes -
A mind growing feeble, homelessness,
Hunger, loneliness, and most of all – 
Not having anyone to love him. 


Copyright © Kika Ayala

Details | Hero Poem | |

I'm my Daddy Made Over

Dedicated to my Dad Jerry W. Niday 3/20/1952 - 6/18/2013

I am who I am because of him
He’s the reason for my son’s name
He gave me my courage & my strength
To stand tall even when standing wasn’t easy
Stand for the ones who can’t
To think and fend for myself
I’m my Daddy made over

Taught me to fight back 
To never back down
How to pick myself back up
When I’ve been knocked down
Fight for what I believe
I’m my Daddy made over

He gave me my stubbornness 
Gave me my pride
Gave me my temper
Taught me not to take crap
To speak my mind no matter who
Work for what I want
I’m my Daddy made over

How to keep my emotions in check
How to handle large amounts of pain
When in trouble he always had my back
He knew how my mind worked better than anyone
I got it from him
I’m my Daddy made over

Even though he’s gone
I’ll stand and continue on 
I may stumble I may fall 
May even get hurt along the way
But I’ll pick myself back up
I’ll dust myself off and stand tall
I’m honored and proud to say
I’m my Daddy made over

Sabrina Niday Hansel

Placed 1st in "Unsung Hero" 7/2014 contest
Also 3rd. in "Portrait of a Poet" 1/2014 

Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel

Details | Hero Poem | |

Mario and Luigi: The Untold Story

(Submitted to Heather's Famous Couples/Duos contest. I hope you all like!)  :)

“Save me, Mario & Luigi!”

As they both read the Princess’ distress call,
Written in dark cherry lipstick on his walls
“Mama-Mia, I just painted this damn thing”, Luigi whined.

They ride off into smiling clouds’ horizon
Knocking out hopeless Goombas & misunderstood Turtle shells
Rapidly exhaled hustles over flagpoles and grassy valleys
To see who will capture her 1st kiss...and NOTHING MORE

Towards that immense castle in the sky,
They climbed against its walls like two dogs in heat for the 1st time

Into un-screened window archways, they dive in
Their eyes stare threateningly against the Dinosaur-Lizard cross-breed reject

Mario & Luigi begin dropping mushrooms to see stars and taste invincibility.

But, like this battle, it only lasted 10 seconds!

For out from the Onyx darkness, a new hero emerged
Green, not with envy, but of Greek god magnificence
And a strut that would make a pole dancer jealous

He struck down with such brute force, tearing down the gates of Heaven & Hell
Jesus & Lucifer were pissed

It was Yoshi the dinosaur!

With one fell swoop & a high pitched Braveheart-style cry,
He starts dropping eggs like he’s been ovulating for days
Tossing them with such focus & epic awesomeness against his enemies
Knocking them down one by one

He gracefully sweeps up the Princess, staring down towards his enemies
In a condescendingly lifted face, places an old-school Boombox on the ground
With loud decibels of MJ’s “Don’t stop ‘til you get enough!”,
Yoshi pulls out & drops the mic, embracing gravity’s last word

The Princess devilishly smiles at her new green hero and rides him into the sunset.

Game over.

©Drake J. Eszes

Copyright © Drake Eszes

Details | Hero Poem | |


Superman has always been a superhero of mine One of my favorites of all and that with me is more than fine. Superman he's so handsome and he's so very cool He can fly!And he's so bright,smart,and he's never a fool. Superman in his superhero outfit looks so sharp and good And for truth and justice for anyone always proud stood There's no one in the world like Christopher Reeves as Superman Superman fights for everything that stands for good and that's his plan. Superman,fight for the American way and has tons of die-hard devoted fans He always comes shining thru for all,evil in all his films he bans Superman in the world of superheroes is my number one and many of us agreed No other superhero can ever beat him with all its unique attributes indeed. Dorian Petersen Potter aka ladydp2000 copyright@2014 10.09.14

Copyright © Dorian Petersen Potter

Details | Hero Poem | |

Echoes of the Stone


No one can turn back the hands of time
Reliving the war,  TEXAS her independence
The tombs so deep, where real hero's fought and fell
A place so precious, sacred in every hold
A timeless journey, with no stop to heal
To find your eyes upon this treasure's glaze
Hearing stories not found in fairy-tale books
Finding GRACE in this AMAZING place
The legendary ALAMO, over freedom, a ghost town
Walking by the thousands, beyond this land
Echoes in the stones
A painful event, UN erased

Defenders of the ALAMO, gathered to unite
With their life's they put up an honorable fight
Heroes who embraced a defeat in March 1836
A battle deeply wounded overnight
Bravery in their hearts
No time to be scared.
Where the wind now blows,
Echoes in our souls.

With one touch, embrace the south wall
Hearing whispers, sad echoes-I call
Chills traveled down my spine
Standing among all heroes who are still buried, 
In their home at the ALAMO
Echo's in the stone
Proud of the ALAMO.

Echoes in the stone 
Where a hero still stands tall
Heros even beyond their last breath, 
Death being their only bail
Heroically fighting with their own will and liberty
In hopes that justice would prevail
The ALAMO rebuilt, standing strong
Full of life, in the center of San Antone'

The voices, the scream, 
Piercing the stone
Fighting till their death
"Remember the Alamo!"
The echoes in the stone, a hero's home
Locked inside each stone of eyes
Heroes who died,
Cried their last words


Copyright © SKAT A

Details | Hero Poem | |

It's Dangerous To Dream

Behind a veil of darkness,
twinkling lights confetti night.
And yet constellations don’t
offer a familiar sight.

I miss you the most at night,
when memories come to me.
So I use this time to write,
and share what you cannot see.

It's said God favors deserts,
where His love can be felt still.
Yet thinking about that feels
weird when deployed here to kill.

Got some letters from strangers,
saying they're proud of me.
Yet I can't say how I feel,
for my doubts won't let me be.

I wish I could talk to you,
instead of scrawling these lines.
But it’s dangerous to dream,
amongst the bullets and mines.

Stationed in Afghanistan, 
it's unwise to let thoughts roam.
Yet as a shooting star falls,
I make a wish to go home.

Maintaining my composure,
is much harder than it seems.
And so I’ll close this letter,
and visit you in my dreams.

Copyright © Emile Pinet

Details | Hero Poem | |

My Only Son

I woke last night, with a heavy heart,
miles away, and world's apart,

sensing you...  sensing you..

All through the night, and into morn,
headless fears and shadows form,

so forlorn...  so forlorn..

Feeling scared, and knowing why,
seeing nightmares in your eyes,

over there...  over there..

Images of ruthless foes,
dressed in black, from head to toe.

Jagged blade, held to your breast,
evil serpent, puffs his chest.

my only son...  my only son.

Hide my soul and blind my eyes!
Precious son, I hear your cries.

Brutal boots, and shattered bones,
taunting jeers, and heavy stones.

A thousand lashes to your flesh,
hidden under prison dress.

Gagged and bound, they drag you out,
Infidel! they cruelly shout.

Forced to kneel; so hate will rise!
Dagger falls..... alone he dies.

A life of honor, and good cheer,
taken from you,  with a sneer.

Heart of gold; at heaven's gate,
my precious son, in glory waits....

Copyright © Kimberly Shaw

Details | Hero Poem | |

I Only Understand Now

We talked at length
The hours we passed
The life you lived
Oh the horrors 
So many men's live snuffed
Oh Arizona, a dedication
Whose souls be at rest
Amidst oily scum
And so many others
Sightless eyes watch
The world in disintegration.
Yes, you’ve seen
Many unimaginable horrors
Those only Man can inflict
You’ve grasped my heart
I watched you whither away
A hero by all accounts
God rest your soul
Oh gentle man.
God rest ye gentle man.
My heart aches
With your passing
Now I have your cherished one
She that you know
Rested in my heart
For years and years and years
The one that tended you
All that time
Oh yes, that woman of women
She is in my arms
Forever… my very first love
The thought of whose love
Brings tears to my eyes
Together… finally…
Just so you know…

Semper Fidelis... you are my hero Donald Canan,USMC, WWII veteran Western 
Pacific... he told death to get bent. May God Rest your soul.

Copyright © Michael Santner

Details | Hero Poem | |

Lorraine Cemetery

Near Saint Avold, France,
More than ten thousand heroes
Whisper from the soil.

Copyright © Mark J. Halliday

Details | Hero Poem | |

Boston Strong 2014 - one year later

             Boston Strong 2014
                  One Year Later

There is a strength in compassion,
a courage in the compassionate,
not a faint desire to be of service
but a triggered response.

There is a power in sadness,
not in the tears or deflation
but in the determination to
persevere, to rise again.

There is a force in unity,
the inexplicable rumbling
of hearts, beating in response
to the hearts of others.

There is a passion in oneness,
in focus, in belief, determination,
a love shared, nurtured, shielded,
cherished, and necessary.

John G. Lawless

submitted to - Best of 2014 – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Carol Eastman

Copyright © John lawless

Details | Hero Poem | |

Unsung Hero - My Mom

Unsung Hero – My Mom

My Mom has always been unassuming, never flashy,
But her name deserves to be up in bright neon lights.
My magnificent Mom, Olegaria, is my hero!
In her eyes, no one is a zero,
And she is a blessing to all who crosses her path.
Successfully raising her own five children,
She also helped to raise all the stray children in her neighborhood.
Her guiding motto is “You can’t believe in God and
Not care about others - whether it is people, plants, or animals.”

An extraordinary human being, generous to a fault,
She would give her last slice of bread
To anyone who needed to be fed.
Nothing, including her time, is too good or too precious 
To share with family, friends, and even strangers.
Often she’d sacrifice her own happiness,
If it meant that others would be happy.

While Mamacita is very humble, forgiving, and non-judgmental,
She is nobody’s fool and can be a fierce lioness, 
Quick to defend her values and those she loves.
Caring mothers like her are especially rare today,
And should be declared national treasures.
Because of her powerful influence and the solid values she instilled,
I am a stronger, kinder, more conscientious, and better person.

My Mom helped me to see life in a more positive
And compassionate way – to treat people 
How I would like to be treated.
Even though she is not a regular church-goer,
She prays several times daily and her home is her altar.
I thank God every day for blessing me with this wonderful mother,
And for her continued presence in my life.
Mom, you will always be my hero!

Entered in “Unsung Hero Contest” sponsored by Carol Eastman (7-30-

Copyright © Pandita Sanchez

Details | Hero Poem | |

Her Fairy Tale Came True

Fairy Hills are gone, with his curse, ruined.
Can this hero be greater than her sin?
Did Father, forgive? He was her desire -   
Oh Tam Lin, of stories, you beguile again!                             
Woods are now suburbs, we are far from home.
Slip into their minds, creep behind their roam.
Past’s visions will be life’s reality.
Legend leads us where fool's hearts cleave and comb.   

Climb into their world, leave behind your woes.
Hide ‘neath trembling leaves from past pains and foes.
Search their soulful tale, embrace ecstasy.
Taste the nectar sweet where flowers did grow.

Open light forbids you and I to share
intimacy of our skin warm and bare.
Like those lover's torn, l hold your heart and hands,
softened by light eyes under dark brown hair.

Oh just like Tam Lin, I’d save you again,
far from city's eyes, we’ll live in the glen.
A woman and a girl, I'm with child of yours,
standing brave with you, our love, I’ll defend!

Our lovechild kicking strong beneath my heart
is condemned by those who want us apart.
She connects our love, forbidden by two worlds 
as we plan our lives making a new start.

Fairy Hills are gone, with our curse, ruined.
Are we two heroes now greater than our sin?
I forgive myself; in our joy, I’m free -
With tolerance and love, doors will be opened!


Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders

Details | Hero Poem | |


They are not rich.
They have no car. 
They have no fat.
They have no dream.

They are not so-called educated persons.
They are not news.

They are struggling for existence.

They have not any exceed of life 
Which is poison. 

They live with their old parents.

They have innocent smile and intuition.

They created their poor house as rich home.

They are my celebrities.
But I am not communist.


Copyright © Sandip Goswami

Details | Hero Poem | |


You freed me like a genie out of a jar
I never thought it could go this far
But you are my Aladdin
Who came to rescue me all of a sudden

I was in the dark, you came and….
Took me out to the light
I was a lost child but you wiped my tears….
And vanished away my fright

I owe you so much; I’m in your debt
I could never repay you, whatever on saying I kept
You showed me the way, you are my guiding star 
But please promise that you’ll not….
Put me back into that jar!

You are my princess, you are my jasmine 
You in my heart always have been  
Promise that you will forever stay
Promise that you will never go away

Promise that you will hold me tight…..
On a cold night
Promise that you will never let me….
Get out of your sight
Promise that you will never let go of my hand
Nor leave me in the dark alone, where I used to stand

Copyright © Mohamed Adel

Details | Hero Poem | |

Joan of Arc

The Medieval era
was filled with wars and strife
between the French and English
at cost of limb and life.

The French became disheartened;
their victories were rare,
a humbling situation
which was too hard to bear.

A peasant girl heard voices 
and visions she could see.
A maid who had a mission,
young Joan from Domrémy.

The King and other nobles
put all their faith in her.
This maid of calm composure
had dreams which they could share.

Entrusted with an army
she rode the horse she had
with banner and sword wielding,
in shining armour clad.

The English looked in wonder;
there were bewildered scenes
as Joan and soldiers entered
the city of Orleans.

With rousing words and courage
her men to battle led.
The English were defeated;
in disarray they fled.

More victories then followed,
her fame spread far and wide,
but when the voices ended
she lost the gift to guide.

In battle she was captured,
for sorcery was tried.
Condemned to death by burning
to wooden stake was tied.

The hungry flames devoured
the maid’s unblemished skin.
She called the name of Jesus;
found strength from deep within.

She died. It was all over
this heroine’s ordeal.
She was proclaimed not guilty
years later, on appeal.

A martyr, now respected, 
who paid a costly price.
A victim of politics;
a saint in people’s eyes.

Contest: Joan of Arc
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst

*Joan of Arc admitted that she never used her sword to kill anyone.
  To her, strategy was more important than the sword.

Copyright © Paul Callus

Details | Hero Poem | |

PoetrySoup Heroes

Second Chances 

Sometimes in life, we work so hard
     to do the best that we can do.
Spend hours perfecting what we think
      others will love and cherish too.

With gems created in the arts,
     like those of written poetry,
The imagery comes from our soul,
     the very depths of you of me.

Sometimes our hope for a reward
     in judgment of a finished write,
does not fulfill expected goals—
     although selections may be right.

Then comes along a second chance—
     contests for 'Screwed' and 'Trashed' on list!
Perhaps a poem of heart and soul
     will earn a placement that it missed.

Two heroes here in this great 'Soup'
     provide for me that second chance!
New eyes to read, enjoy my thoughts;
     perhaps a win, my score enhance.

Broken, your kind and gentle heart
     can feel the depth of what I write.
Your sensitivity comes through
     to see my words in different light.

And Rob, your love of poetry—
     of metaphor and perfect form,
has given me the chance to shine
     let meaning of my words perform.

So thank you Rob and Broken Wings,
     you offer us that chance to score—
showcase our words and thoughts again.
     Your second chances we adore!

Sandra M. Haight

~7th Place~
Contest: PoetrySoup Heroes
Sponsor: Catie Lindsey
Judged: 11/12/2015

My PoetrySoup Heroes:

Broken Wings
Rob Carmack

Copyright © Sandra Haight

Details | Hero Poem | |


There is freedom in her beauty.  A confidence that comforts me deep in my soul.  I am in awe.  Purely.  She may as well be flying, I cannot take my eyes from her wings that spread wide as the sky.  Her song is deep and disciplined; at her command.  The places in my gut that ache she shares and makes words where there were none.  It's as if we've known each other before.  Pieces of our souls belong to one another.  So extraordinary but reachable through the humanity in her eyes.  A sadness a deepness that resonates with me.  It is within me.  Sadness within the womb of woman, scars on the heart always leave behind more than ruined tissue.  She gets that.  She gets me.  A superstar, the world cannot take their eyes off her.  She is a flame, the view of the ground from the roof.  Inarguably gorgeous, striking whether in her bare feet or the latest fashion.  Her sexy is audacious, admirably we watch, when it's over we are inspired to be sexier.  With a flip of big hair she becomes demure without parting with her sexiness.  She is what woman is.  So feminine while so in charge.  The stage rumbles underneath her feet.  She smiles into the crowd.   A smile that the millions of dollars of lights behind her cannot compete with. 
A smile that speaks
Saying... there is no place she eos rather be. 
Her love of melody of sing of the release that comes with belting out your feelings becomes my love.   We are strangers but in a heavenly moment we become one. 
Sisters of the soul.   Girlfriends.   Her greatest gift to me is her strength.

Copyright © Zen reed

Details | Hero Poem | |


I'm only allowed the names of three
so I will write of those that would be for me.
There are so many that this is unfair
but, since that is the rule I must list there:

Carolyn Devonshire who gave me the courage to write
with her words of encouragement on this site.
She always found a "silver lining" in my work,
and never told me that I write like a jerk.

Tho it has been years since I've been around
her help and inspiration never set me aground.
She never left me twisting in the wind alone
as she helped my poorest works to hone.

There is also a Poet Destroyer for whom I have praise
I wish my words to her level I could raise.
Why her "Poet Destroyer" pen name I could never see
unless, of course, you compare mine to her poetry.

Mine is crushed by the words she can write
but I am ever grateful to her for wanting to put mine to flight.
When you have a writer who can put you to shame,
it's only natural that you want to do the same.

CayCay Jennings is my third choice
as she has helped me to "refind" my voice.
I appreciate her critiques of the work I do
all I can give is a big "THANK YOU".

She was one of the first to welcome me back here
and always gave me words of good cheer.
Her suggestions have been given with such grace
sometimes they put a smile on my face.

There is her writing which is also so stellar
as compared to mine, some of which belong in a cellar.
Some of the things she has written down
Have with me, a deeper meaning found.

So these are the three heroes that I must name
but so many more have done the same.
Not only are there poets whose names I could not call
to give them the honors they should have one and all.

Yes, I have heroes here unnamed
because my pen had to be tamed.
But know that I appreciate each and all that you do
Whenever I write, I'm thinking of you. 

written:  10/30/15

Copyright © Dan Cwiak

Details | Hero Poem | |

Eyes of Blue

A people persecuted beyond imagination;
To help them he felt, was his obligation.
He joined the army in World War II;
Not knowing his hell would be Eyes of Blue.

When he reached Normandy, the beaches were red.
Crawling over his brothers who lay already dead.
To give this tyrant, this devil his due;
Not knowing his own demons, would be Eyes of Blue.

He rounded a building securing a town;
A young German soldier was just coming round.
He plunged his bayonet, the quicker of the two;
Killing the young soldier, with Eyes of Blue.

He knelt down beside him with tears in his eyes;
How long this moment would last, he did not realize.
He closed the eyes as he thought he should do;
Thinking never again to see those Eyes of Blue.

The victor over many in Germany and Japan;
It was always difficult taking life from a man.
None would haunt him, this he now knew;
As long as the soldier, with Eyes of Blue.

He died an old man, to heaven he went;
For this honorable soldier, mercy was sent.
First time since the war, so sad but true;
A peaceful sleep, not seeing Eyes of Blue.

Copyright © Arlene Smith

Details | Hero Poem | |

My Micke boys

                To be called ..
            ~   Grandma is a Honor ~

        I have been blessed with 4  Grandchildren

       ~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb "  He is God's Angel ~
   ~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~

     For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
       he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
      ~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
              Time passed another gift to see
               we are " Mickes" and Loved 
            Our Dad held the title in Baseball 
                   ~  that's how we roll ~
           those children are Grandmas hero's 

       The Irish they love big and Family is everything 
        The brothers will protect the beautiful sister 
              ~ as many lads will be calling ~

        Every time my Grandson hits a home run
     There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand 

       It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs 
           ~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
     either baseball or Art  ~ you shall find your gift given

                These children have been blessed~
                 ~  a beauty to hard to describe 
        If you think not ~~  Take a look at the Mom  
                     That girl can stop Traffic   
                    after raising three and still~ 

          "Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "

     May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell

Copyright © Shanity Rain

Details | Hero Poem | |

Confession of a silent Artist

Creative writers are never given flowers while they still breathing poetry.

Biters wait patiently for the last breath to pay their respect and get paid with your work.

Claiming being sent by callings to keep the legend's work alive till infinity.

No doctor has the cue for this sick world.

But guess what we writers do care.

We keep writing spiritually we don't care.

Atleast i don't care, i know you'll be speaking my language with your theft.

Evidently i do share.

You are that invisible disciple i recruited to speak for me in my death.

It's the life of an artist who cares.

We don't seek recognition.

Recognition come to us that's why we endlessly spread.

We are angels with no wings heaven is closer to us we don't fly.

Paradise is home for holidays filled with dead writers.

An escapism from you hooligans.

Its a crime not a mime when you speak rhyme in my rhymes.

Thank God i'm still an infant in this poetry, i have a chance to fill up the grave you dug for me.

Your patience will have to patiently await my departure patiently.

I have enough time to unleash these constipated rhymes.

You think you got me.

I speak better in my rhymes like a machinegun tone spraying pee.

My skeleton is covered in mics louder i do speak rhythmic bones.

My skeleton is made out of cables transporting poetic stones.

My soul will be kept in your brain's museum.

There i said it.

Ye i meant it.

Copyright © Raymond Ngomane

Details | Hero Poem | |

You're a Super Hero - Poetry Contest

It was time to sit little Timmy down
It was time to have "The Talk"
"Timmy" I said "Timmy your daddy is the super hero known as"
it is here I took a dramatic pause and finally said
"Cabbage Head"

At this point i waited patiently,
patiently for Timmy to stop laughing. 
I tried to continue but Tim wouldn't have it
"no dad please, please don't speak I'm trying to catch my breath"

I remained silent. Just then Timmy said 
"so whose your sidekick cauliflower ears"
he was now gasping for air through his hysterical laughter

Timmy I said "calm down we have to talk"
Timmy stopped laughing but then he added
"so where do you keep your Super Hero costume?
In the vegetable crisper" back to Tim laughing
which led me to believe Tim was being sarcastic

" What's your superpower? The ability to
control itty biddy Bunnies to do your bidding,
(again with the sarcasm)
turning meat eaters into Vegetarians.
(my child hits the nail on the head)
So who is your arch nemesis Vegetable Chopper, he slices he dices."
(this kid knows a lot about me)
"No no I know Salad Dressing he drenches you in his juices
until you wilt." That's ridiculous I think
I would never fight a bad guy named Salad dressing

I decided I would give Timmy some time
to absorb our serious talk while I made a call.
In fact I decided to wait until the next day
I had to call my sidekick. The phone rang. He answered
I said "Cauliflower Ear is that you"

Maurice Yvonne
August 30 2014
You're a Super Hero
Poetry Contest-Carol Eastman

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne

Details | Hero Poem | |

The Fallen Hero

She’d made him out to be larger than life
A hero of the times with brawn and might
The one who could with word put end to strife
And fight the dragons, bringing dark to light

He was to her an angel strong and brave
Who claimed that truth was plain for her to see
She thought he had the power from pain to save
But though she tried her doubts she could not free

And then one day he fell in deep disgrace
The one who claimed to be steadfast and true
This noble knight on steed with angel face
Had changed from brightest light to different hue

Deep sadness filled her heart for his demise
No more was he a hero in her eyes


Copyright © Eileen Manassian