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Long Hero Poems | Long Hero Poetry

Long Hero Poems. Below are the most popular long Hero by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hero poems by poem length and keyword.

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Long poem by Scott Howard Myers The Gypsy King | Details |

Wall Street

      

Set upon the new world stage within the burning fires of hell. Silently posed factions of the elite, suppress the true inherit of Mother Earth. The meek children bending over for millennium, taken spankings of bare bottoms, pelted slavery. 

Upon entry to rule, the open stage of smoked mirrors began to reflect back upon the podium of lies. Taught by scholars from university books of political science. Fearful of leadership matching mirrored images, of false pretense, babbling rhetoric. The stirring masses of discontented, individualistic, thought of as dead - enders, trouble makers, and rebel rousers, rallied aimlessly.   

With super hero, Captain Do Gooder, bleeding helpless on the floor of Wall Street. Weary lost hope combatants mustered courage, and accepted destiny. To this point, someone shouted against the wind of change. Felt by all who sensed the importance. 
"To death do us part of the purpose to which we, the united, stand for justice". 
The chant began, as Captain Do Gooder was dragged away, and cuffed, once bleeding helpless on the floor of Wall Street. 
Damn the torpedoes. Damn the torpedoes. 
Captain Do Gooder, fallen, bruised ego matching skinned knees, lays helpless. Who will save them now.

Second glances from high rise penthouses. Serving champagne and caviar. Brought iron clenched hands once hidden, to draw the stage curtain down. 

With Captain Do Gooder nowhere to be found. The voice that came from pain of pupil. Born within broken dreams of promised lands. Realized nothing was coming cheap on this occupation. 

The dusty streets found Captain Do Gooder aimlessly stepping against the winds of change, down Wall Street. The well-intentioned, arrested and broken spirited, lost hope of recycling any salvage rights taken from them by Metro. 

Was this the end of the well thought out, pushed down occupation.  
Was this the beginning, of the underground faction. Where was senior generation X hiding. Only Captain Do Gooder and the well-intentioned, world stage occupiers, hold the key to that Pandora's box of hope. 

 
The peoples across the oceans were already springing far ahead in their own, more brutal campaign. For they had no cushion on which they were raised to kneel against. Tyranny ran over them.  A lesson yet not felt, or learnt, or taught, in the new world.  No chance of city mayors issuing eviction notices. Bullets, tanks and bombs were of the order. Brought down the line, traced back to the ones our United Nations to this day, refuse to acknowledge.
While leaders there home internet shop, and pump out the lies. Everyone dies. 


In the heart of the continent of center, where unto which as mankind sprang forth, for its first and ever conquest.  
The lights kept dim, to obscure the violent cleansing. A facade to disguise once moreover, the brutal tyranny for which the greed of the elite, control the dimmer switch. Diamonds and oil fuel the fire of war and oppression, on this stage of greed and guilt. Too far away, and too many distractions upon center stage for one to see or care. Thought and looked upon by most as racially motivated.  The origins of all mankind, to be left, far too far, behind. The true forsaken people. Why is man unkind.


So..........will Captain Do Gooder raise the bar to which drinks for the house, and all around, will quench the thirst felt by ninety nine percent of the people............mother knows best.   
Yet, still, self-inflicted roadblocks of appointed destiny, drop kicked long days past. Faint light shining far ahead, within the tunnel of hell, brought up to land. Firm above the depths to which it sprang. The truth of world order.  

Wait......what do we see......do our closed eyes deceive our cries........................................

We see Captain Do Gooder catching second wind. 

She breathes deep now and all can hear her war cry, no longer whimpering softly. As in past tense situations, given way to dazed and confused wall street *****es.  
She builds momentum, as our brothers and sisters lay dying and bleeding. On the streets of some not so distant for telling, of what's to be, will never not be coming full steam ahead and plowing through the hidden agenda.  One step beyond the line drawn in the sand of time, we thought would never be crossed. Give way thoughtless future tellers, and takers. Still holding firm with paper cuts, deep into the hands who printed and prepared such slave papers, kept by the elite bankers. 

Captain Do Gooder returns renewed and refreshed. Our true Mother.  
Captain Do Gooder feels strong, as bruised knees and scraped hands heal. 


Brush of destiny sweepstakes,  allots winnings of earth shaking, volcano erupting, tsunami tidal waves, with bonus draws of worldwide chaos. Future draws are to be held with worldwide winners. Grand prize, dead oceans rising.  

The next generation have no fear digest writes the next chapter. 

 
Hold the press down firmly wall street backbiting backbenchers. Drawn into the crossfire, on her mark, place the x on the next general who dares not fall into civil disobedience.  
Captain Do Gooder has grown teeth, and she is biting down hard against the line to pipe riches, spoiled from her lands. Stolen from the first pilgrimage, fifteen thousand years old, lost empire. 

How dare you steal from, and pollute the minds of her children. Yet old enough to drink and drug and die in war.  How dare all of us. 

Meanwhile back at the ranch.  Captain Do Gooder hugs tight that tree of life, to which sprang all this elbow rubbing and diversion. Wall street huddles in her corner, painted red to match the lengths to which an end will surely bring to it. 
Painted red for all to see. 
The end to friendly letter writing, give peace a chance, make love not war, generation taking a bow, and snow birding it, to false sense of security land. Like the ostrich with its head in the sand. 



Long poem by Matt Ancient | Details |

FREEDOM OF THE PRESS

ABOUT   THE   PRESS


The media, the press was established as an institution to fight for humanity and human right as well. To serve as a mediator between the people underground and the so called ruling class, thus between those at top and those at low, the rich and the poor, and that checking and balancing government. But this was not the case; the media was discriminatory, barbaric, partial and selfish. For instance what one could describe as glorious in Africa is always portrait as mysterious by the press. They always ignored the good things about Africa, Arabia, Latin America etc, and created a monster out of them, made them inferior in the eyes of the world, as if they were not part of the world or the human society. Whiles other mysterious things which happened in the west were hidden. For instance there were foolish monarchs in Europe who were spending lavishly on stupid things and billions on issues like toppling of other leaders in the Middle East, Africa, south Asia and Latin America; they spend on luxuries, expensive royal weddings and ceremonies and so on. Whiles women and children were suffering in Africa, Asia and Latin America. But the media kept quit and were always criticizing Africa, china, Arabia, and Latin Americas of being undemocratic. Even animals were given media attention than what a fellow man from other part of the world could do. Because of racism, where one comes from, the religious group he belongs to, and was seen as minority in the human society, and was always ignored and abused. They then protect the image of politicians, religious leaders and so called rich men in the society and ignored those who really needed their help because they were poor. Instead of being there for the poor, they took bribes from politicians, for they were selfish and greedy in gaining and taught about them selves alone, they does that to please these so called ruling class in other to win awards and rewards at the end, if one fall as a victim then he deals with that alone, but we all belongs to the human society, and all these human institutions are there for us all, but not for some group of people who claims to be the ruling class. Before one could become a leader, it is the same people who are seen as inferior, who chooses them and make them who they are. Nobody cares about anybody, the rich becomes richer and the poor, poorer, the main reason of the press is being undermined, because of corrupt, selfish character and evil deeds of other humans.  For instance whiles Osama Bin Laden was seriously criticized by the western media, and a price on his head for crimes against humanity, George Bush was walking freely like a supper hero without any court or the media questioning him for the humanitarian genocide, war crimes against humanity in the middle east, about the innocent people who died, those who were wounded, lost their families and homes. Just because he was the president of America, but the question is does anybody has the right to abuse or take the life of another, because of title or position one has? . The media always protect the so called ruling class instead of protecting the poor from these 'beast' which devour blood of innocent people. The media is never transparent, free and fair and it aim of establishment or it existence is undermined. They never criticized the alliance of the US, France and the UK for crimes against humanity, for the lives of innocent people who lost their lives in Libya, just because of the hate of one man, many has to die, they kept quit and the truth being hidden, even North Korea was not invaded for the possession of weapons of mass destruction, as for that it was negotiable, about the monarchs in Europe, as for that it was the gift of God. The ultimate principle is by being free and fair and that brings satisfaction. There is no God who wants some people to be kings and others to slaves. Whiles Palestine is criticized of crimes and violence, Israel was encourage by the western media for the lost of lives of innocent people who lives in Gaza, the war crimes against humanity, just because of Palestine being an Islamic nation, they are accused of terrorism, but Israel has the right to deny people of their right to live, because the name Israel is in the bible or can any one tell the reason behind such atrocities. Although terrorism was in existence and was evil, for many innocent people lost their lives because of these so called terrorist, and if this is evil and needs to be condemned, why then should government organizations causes crimes against humanity in the name of fighting against terrorist, moreover there were terrorist every where, does that also means NATO should lunch attack on the European nations because there might be terrorist there, for there is an evidence that the source of these war crimes and weapons of mass destruction are all caused by political and religious atrocities, but the media always ignore such fact and rather sing praises on western leaders, they does this to please the so called  ruling class in other to get awards and rewards. There were so many human right abuses going on, racial discrimination but the media kept quit so many times, especially if the victim comes from Latin America, Africa, Asia Arabia and so on. If the media will not sell it trust to politicians and so called ruling class, and they will be honest to themselves and all mankind, all sorts of corruption and abuses could have been seized and freedom achieved.


Long poem by Demetrios Trifiatis | Details |

ETERNAL RECURRENCE

ETERNAL RECURRENCE*


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 
“I am certain that I have been here as I am now a thousand times before and
 I hope to return a thousand times after.”  GOETHE 
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


1.

Once upon a time, 
The Lord of spiritual consciousness was sitting peacefully on His blissful throne 
Ceaselessly contemplating upon His equilibrium
T’ was the era of no moon, no sun, no stars, no earth, no oceans, no rivers
Just a motionless, timeless and deathless entity it was happy with His existence  

2.

Suddenly the thought of sacred motion was felt deep down in his essence
Seeking the chaos to be stirred from its core outwardly
Consequently separating the light from the darkness and all the other elements 
That constitute the Cosmos
Thus giving birth immediately to old mighty time

3.

When Time: This wizard of celestial art found himself alive
His expert hands stretched in advance, wanting to create
For that the plastic energy he took, that was everywhere around
And skillfully and patiently the Cosmos carved according to the Logos
Creating thus, the nebulae, the galaxies, the stars and all the other planets

4.

Then God looked at times creation and marveled with its beauty
But as there was no life to be seen in all of this creation
The thought of desire was born in God to inhabit every place
For that out of himself he cut myriads blazing souls
Which like shooting stars he sent downwards to animate nature,

5.

In this way, to manifestation’s cosmic sphere, the souls were beamed
Radiating their luminosity to reality’s lower planes  
Bringing with them the sacred principles to denser forms of life 
As they were passing from the spiritual, the mental and the astral
And finally materializing, themselves on the physical solid plane
Where life began on earth, with God’s will and grace!

6.

Each soul an ambassador was and is of God’s will and grace
A ray of divinity, a guardian of the Holy Law 
Each with a specific mission: to learn or rather to remember
How to find the way of return throughout space and time
And with the divine, again, to be seen in perfect equilibrium

7.

The day I was born, as every man alive,
I found my immortal self bound to the wheel of time 
That around eternity’s circumference took me, in very heavy chains
Asking to follow obediently the unswerving path of fate:
This endless trip of return where the only constant thing is change

8.

Since then I have died once and many times after
But death's dark palaces to hold me were unable
As my soul’s perpetual desire to follow my destiny
Brought me back to this ephemeral world of fleeting dreams
With a new body, new hopes, new goals but always with the 
Same desire

9.

Thus I journeyed back and forth the plains of oblivion
Choosing the best conditions I could, according to my karma
Trying to find endlessly the golden middle way 
That unmistakably between the extremes is only to be found
But since from the river of forgetfulness each time I was drinking 
I was obliged, unfortunately, to start over again

10.

So, I was born once a king and another was I born a beggar
And in turns I was born a coward, a hero, a holy man, a vicious man,
A  Christian, a Muslim, an atheist, an idolater a strong man and a woman
And healthy and sick I was born and intelligent and witless
And was I born to love so much the things I once detested
And to hate passionately the things I once held dear

11.

And I was born once to laugh and another just to cry
And I drunk successively from joy’s cup and that of sorrow’s
And was born to make friends out of my enemies 
And enemies out of my brothers
And was born to realize the impossible dreams and fail the very easy  
And I was born to slay and to be slain alternatively for thousands of years

12.

Thus I lived continuously the extremes of both good and evil
Striving to find endlessly the balance in my soul
Through the wisdom that was endowed upon me by the Great Spirit
That like a beacon, luminous, to guide me waits
To my supreme destiny that GOD for me has traced

13.

So, as was passing from life unto death, from darkness unto light
With a speed determined by me, I don’t put on GOD the blame,
All my lessons have I learned through trial and error
Up to the very last reincarnation, in body’s mortal temple

14.

Now free, AT LAST, from all earthly desires and every karmic blame
Radiating with holiness and glowing with grace 
My immortal soul, HER divine wings unfolds and soars upwards the heavens
White light blazing in perfect equilibrium 
And pure now to her glorious creator returns and with 
HIM UNITES! 


©Demetrios Trifiatis
  11 DECEMBER 2013


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“A little while and my longing shall gather dust and foam for another body.
A little while, a moment of rest upon the wind and another woman shall bear me”
KAHLIL GIBRAN
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* This poem because of its length I was unable to post it in one piece for I was not a
member for life at that time therefore I published it in two parts as: “CREATION” and as “REINCARNATION.” Here is the entire poem as it was originally written.
Now, my friends know that apart from my epigrams I write... long poems as well!    
  


Long poem by Terry Trainor | Details |

A Moment of Hope The Invisible Man 30

Sometimes I have the courage to think of the things that made me what I am today,
My memory takes me back to terrible things far away far off into my bitter past,
My mind like a maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste, loss and disgust,
The losses, the drink ripped away, not happy until it was all gone respect as well.

Invisible thinks of a garden where roses clustered with lilies scent on the breeze,
Bees found stores of honey in the petals of a thousand and one different flowers,
Lovers walked hand in hand along its winding path a beautiful dream of the man,
Bright with the embroidery of nature where children played in new myrtle flowers,

As Invisible thinks of this garden it is neglected but flowers can grow with weeds,
It could put a smile upon his face, a face that had never known any joy recently,
He hopes a gardener can covert this garden get rid of ruined waste, back into Eden,
Tending all the beautiful flowers that spring up with the weeds and smell gladness.

If he helped the gardener in his quest a hand might hold his and guide him through,
Maybe a hand would go around his waist to support him as well as guide his hand,
Dare he wish that the guiding hand and the support would be his angel from heaven,
A dear person to help him clear his garden and walk down the winding path as lovers.

An angel that would smile at him maybe hold his hand and squeeze it so very gently,
Would the angel talk to him and tell him that one day they would be together again,
Her beautiful grace shining warmly as she looks up to him, to her he is her hero,
Not a drunken mess that cannot cope, not a dirty vagrant, but her knight her love.

The tenderness of this beautiful scene in his poisoned mind became real he smiled,
He grinned as she sat down next to him as close a she could get then wriggled closer,
Warmth from her body not only warmed him but gave hope this what he has waited for,
She whispered sweetly she loved him and would be waiting for him and they kissed.

Invisible woke with a start and was she not by his side, was she ever with him,
A dream another heart wrenching let down and how could he have dreamed the dream,
It was so real he still felt the warmth, the impression of her hand holding his,
But it must have been a dream his own mind conspired to deliver the hardest blow.


Lost in a grief so deep, his loneliness complete he talks to Sam his imaginary friend.

These days get worse Sam they really do please help me,
I need to change but I need my drink more what can I do,
But I need to change so desperately Sam can you help?
My world has cracked and I've fallen into the crack,
But what I don't understand Sam that I was once good,
If I had any courage Sam I would be laying in my coffin,
Why does life drag you along with it I don't want to go,
Just a bit of icing on my cake Sam it is freezing cold,
Did you know this is where I was brought up my friend,
Did you know that most of the people that walk past I knew,
Sam! I know many of there people but they don't know me,
Why do they all walk past I wish somebody would help,
Maybe when I have drunk more cider I might feel better Sam,
I can remember being happy but not what being happy is like,

As Invisible sits drinking shoppers give him a wide berth and they look at him with hate.

These people Sam they look at me as if I have hurt them,
The people they are not our sort of people they hate me,
Has the world changed like I have but in opposite ways,
My life is full of sorrow drunkenness and dreams Sam,
Old sorrows wont go away new sorrows should take over,
So we have to face both the old and the new that's bad,
At night I try to close my drunken eyes it all returns,
Sam is that the same as you can you close your eyes,
Can you remember the valleys Sam the ones we used to play,
When we ran about all day Sam in the sun rolling in grass,
The old stream that twisted and turned, it had lost its way,
Floating lolly sticks watching them bounce away on ripples,
Buying bangers in November and throwing them into the water,
What I wouldn't do to go back for just a couple of hours Sam,
Just to feel the innocence and try to bring it back to now,
To enjoy what there is to enjoy and maybe get better Sam,
But that will never happen Sam we are lost on an island,
A well populated island but an island all the same Sam,
People are not like ships they don't bother to rescue people,
They just walk around or just walk away all the nice ones gone,
I remember my school Sam it's now been knocked down and left,
It has all gone, all gone no primroses in spring or bluebells,
Do you remember Sam the bluebells used to nod in the wind,
But they have all been built on, whats the use in talking,
Nothing changes from bad to good Sam remember that, eh Sam,

Still drinking his cider tears well into his eyes his nose runs and begins to quietly
to sob. He sits on the shopping parade seat, shaking as he sobs. His throat has a lump
in it so he stops talking to Sam. Invisible sinks his wet face into his overcoat
hides his misery from the people that walk past he just sat there lost and confused. His
greatest sadness an angel paid a visit to the maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste,
loss and disgust,


Long poem by David William Breidenthal | Details |

Throw the Blame on Me

Giving in to the silence one last time,
Everyone needs encouragement once in a while
Some need it everyday
For God’s sake, hear me out during this time of suffering
You're different from everyone else
It's not your fault x2
It's okay to be unique as long as you get along with your friends and enemies
Don't you feel comfortable with your group of friends?
You don't have to run away from the truth... 
Unless your bound to hear those heartless, malicious lies

Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me? 
Why don’t you
Unchain me free? Can you do that for me?
Can you do that to earn 
A ticket to freedom?
Can you heal this burn
That makes me feel numb and dumb?
Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me?
If it makes you feel better,
You can go ahead and ignore my plea
Throw the blame on me x3
Throw the b-blame on m-me

I’m the only one, feeling down in the gutters
I sponge in everyone’s emotions and it crashes into me
It seeps through me like the cool atmosphere
Sending me shivers down my spine, giving me mere fear
I don't know what you're thinking or making up in your silly, little mind
Are you planning on doing revenge? 

Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me? 
Why don’t you
Unchain me free? Can you do that for me?
Can you do that to earn 
A ticket to freedom?
Can you heal this burn
That makes me feel numb and dumb?
Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me?
If it makes you feel better,
You can go ahead and ignore my plea
Throw the blame on me x3
Throw the b-blame on m-me
Throw the blame on others, but YOU are not innocent 
If only you'd repent... Now you're faith is put on sale
Blame it on me, you pathetic jerkasaurus! I sting like a sinister serpent 
You're the "hero that won everone's heart" - you're a flippin' fail!!

I see that you're cornered by anger
I saw you almost falling off the edge
I smell your fury like a wildfire !! !!
But, I know that I might bring you some light...when the day embraces the night
You're different...now that's no lie...you never leave my sight
You never leave my sight
You are cotton candy, melting in my mouth with utter delight 
Why do I have to wave goodbye to our love when it's just the beginning? 
Maybe our time is tight! Alright...
Everything's black and white now! 
Give me your full attention somehow!

Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me? 
Why don’t you
Unchain me free? Can you do that for me?
Can you do that to earn 
A ticket to freedom?
Can you heal this burn
That makes me feel numb and dumb?
Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me?
If it makes you feel better,
You can go ahead and ignore my plea
Throw the blame on me 
Do you have proof, you act like a stubborn fool that used the wrong tool 
Why are you so extremely... Cruel??
You aren't cool - you're fire from hell
Where does your heart dwell? You make my heart go pell-mell!! 
Don't even try to put all the b-blame on m-me
You nearly killed me with your malicious envy!! 

Why did everything result in my breaking point?
My fragile, yet sturdy bones are out of joint 
I wanna share with you my divine flight
Reach for the sunlit sky with the peace-abiding angels
Fly like a herd of elegant birds
Hear me out - I can't meet to your high standards 

Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me? 
Why don’t you
Unchain me free? Can you do that for me?
Can you do that to earn 
A ticket to freedom?
Can you heal this burn
That makes me feel numb and dumb?
Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me?
If it makes you feel better,
You can go ahead and ignore my plea
Throw the blame on me x3
Throw the b-blame on m-me

This hardhearted love never warmed me up in the first place
I never want to see your face in the streets again…

Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me? 
Why don’t you
Unchain me free? Can you do that for me?
Can you do that to earn 
A ticket to freedom?
Can you heal this burn
That makes me feel numb and dumb?
Why don’t you
Throw the blame on me?
If it makes you feel better,
You can go ahead and ignore my plea
Throw the blame on me x3
Throw the b-blame on m-me
If it makes you feel better,
You can walk away from my sight and leave me be
I'll never look back at your shadows... Reflections
Why do I feel like you abandon me like a long, lost puppy - I hate having to deal with rejections
I've been handed the wrong directions

I never want to see your face in the streets again…

You left me without a trace
You left me alone in an empty room all day and you didn't have any pity of my soul - sorry to be blunt, but it's the bothering truth you must learn to accept - you must pay the price
You never gave me a piece of your grace
If it makes you feel better,
You can go ahead and ignore my plea
Though my heart would give in to the gloom of today and you didn't even bother to actually take my little advice and I'm, once again, your living sacrifice
Break the silence and greet me with a promising smile


Long poem by Robert Candler | Details |

The Sooner Recruit

Fifty years, boy and man, I’ve been a Sooners fan;
And watched thousands of recruits try to make my Sooners Team.
Often, I’ve enviously wondered what it must be like
To be a touted Sooners recruit, living out his dream.

He’d had a great career through high school;
Made good grades, was a football star, played baseball too.
Coach said college recruiters were watching closely;
So, he tried his very best to make his dream come true.

You see, he’d played on the L’il Sooners as a kid;
Started getting serious about the game when he was only eight
Played with older, bigger boys and practiced hard;
Always told his friends, “To be a Sooner, ya gotta play great”.

Oh yes, his parents raised a football player;
And, even more important, a Sooners fan;
But he wanted more, to be a Sooner,
To feel the glory raining down from the stands. 

Now, the Sooners’ Head Coach is in his living room.
“Son, you’ve got talent.  We think you fit our scheme.
We’re offering you a scholarship, an opportunity
To be an important member of our great Sooners Team”.

His mother smiles her biggest smile.
His father nods proudly and pats him on the knee.
“Lord knows, son, it’s a dream come true.
Go be the very best Sooner you can be”.

He walks into the locker room,
Not quite sure what to expect;
But sure that to play for the Sooners
He will first have to earn respect.

He looks each man straight in the eye - 
Other recruits, trainers, assistants, and every coach.
“Be proud, but respectful”, his mother had said;
Your character, more than your performance, must be above reproach”.

His handshake is firm and he smiles.
“Only one chance for a first impression”, his father had said;
"Always put yourself in positive light, on and off the field.
That’s what it will take to play for the mighty Big Red”.

He meets so many other recruits, each one a high school star.
He’s played against a few and knows they share his dream.
And, to a man, each knows before any chance for Glory,
He first must prove worthy to play for this Sooners Team.

He knows a few will fail to meet the coaches’ expectations.
For some, the scout team will be their fate.
Many will suit up, but rarely play.
Only the very best will ever dare to be great.

Coach says, “If every man learns and executes when called on,
Then this team, we Sooners, will win a lot of games;
But, win or lose, if you play hard and give your very best,
You’ll never have to hang your heads in shame”.

“But gentlemen, with or without you, this team will win.
Every season, the Sooners strive to win it All.
So, listen, work hard, and prepare yourselves.  Each game is war...
And you must be ready when Victory calls”.

Through grueling practices, he finds himself.
As he walks to class, his closest friends are aches and pains;
But, just the other day, Coach helped him up, smiled, and patted his helmet.
“You’re doin’ fine, son.  Keep pushin’.  Remember, no pain, no gain”.

He sees his name on the "open scrimmage" roster for the very first time.
It’s a moment he’ll never forget, another milestone in his dream.
He calls his Mom and Dad, knowing they’ll tell his family and his friends.
He hopes they’ll actually see him play, proof he’s made the Team.

As he suits up for the last pre-season open scrimmage,
He wonders if the coaches would really let a freshman play at all;
But Coach puts him in for eight plays against the first team;
He makes two great open-field tackles and intercepts the ball.

He barely hears the roar of the crowd, as the whole defense “gives him five”.
He’s so excited, he forgets to ask if he can keep that ball.
Fans are buzzing, “Did you see that hit”!?  “Who is that kid”!?
“Will he red shirt or will Coach let him play this fall”? 

He sees his name in the Sunday paper, hears it on local sports.
He’s happy, but he doesn’t let it go to his head.
He keeps his focus and uses it as motivation.
After all, he wants to start one day for the mighty Big Red.

Yes, we’ll hear more of this young recruit.
Perhaps, one day he’ll be the hero of the game.
A seasoned veteran, maybe All Conference or even All American,
Who’s tasted Victory many times and helped glorify the Sooners’ name.

Oh yes, there have been so many who’ve aspired;
But many fewer who’ve actually made our Sooners Team.
They are our heroes, each and every one;
For it’s through their accomplishments, we fans can live the dream.

Billy Vessels, Steve Owens, Billy Sims, and Jason White,
The Selmons, Little Joe, the Boz, Josh Heupel, and “Q”
They, and so many others, were once touted Sooners recruits;
Who set a higher mark and built the Tradition that is OU.

So, c’mon! c’mon! all you great young football players!
Dedicate your talents to OU’s Team and OU’s Fans.
Make Oklahoma’s Owen Field your Field of Dreams,
And feel the Glory raining down from the stands. 


Long poem by Roy Jerden | Details |

La Bejarena

La Béjareña

Oh sweet Angel of Jesus, wherefore lies your grave?
Your blood that is of Navarro, that Corsican so brave
She was a proud Tejana, such a beauty once they say
That enchanted Santa Anna, so far back in the day

On fairy feet she floated in Béjar’s promenade
Like radiating moonbeams her beauty was conveyed
Mantilla and peineta in the latest Spanish style
Caballeros peacocked near her, each hoping for a smile

But for noble Béjar maidens, any glancing was taboo
Except for caballeros that her family nodded to
A curtsey and a flourished bow were the courtly ways
Of greeting one another back in those golden days

Such a fine tradition was the Béjar promenade 
To the Veramendi Palace, perhaps a masquerade
Or to dance a light fandango by the river’s perfumed air
All seemed much more beautiful when close to one so fair

Those were the days of wonder, when Béjar was so sweet
Before the revolution, and the Alamo’s defeat
Before some Anglos came to take with gun and Negro slave
The land that brave Tejanos had bled and died to save

Béjar was filled with drunkards, and rogues of every kind
No promenade was possible in streets so unrefined
And over near the Alamo, where freedom’s price was dear
The price was now determined by the slavery auctioneer

And yet one Anglo gentleman, a major in the war
Touched with noble chivalry, and the ways of a señor
The captured despot’s life did save, upon that victory day
From those who would have hanged the knave, down San Jacinto way

The moment that she met him, in the formal Spanish style
And looked into his honest eyes without a trace of guile
And read his soul so brave and pure, it seemed that time stood still
As nature linked their hearts as one, according to its will

A thousand days of happiness, a thousand days of bliss
Were all that God would grant them both before their final kiss
She laid her hero in his grave, and took their son in hand
And thought of how to speak to him and make him understand

Her gentle eyes had lost their shine; her hair was touched with gray
They wed her to the Dunker man, who took her far away
He never knew her sorrow, he never knew her soul
Inside her lonely citadel of iron self-control

He left her for another wife, and cast them all aside
But a mother’s duty to her sons would never be denied
And at the age of fifty-six, the time at last arrived
When she could welcome willingly the deadly reaper’s scythe

Oh sweet Angel of Jesus, wherefore lies your grave?
Your blood that is of Navarro, that Corsican so brave
By the village of Las Moras, down Rio Bravo way?
No one seems to know for sure, unto this very day

Oh, sons of Navarro!  Let not that Béjar rose
Lie with the dust of strangers, where no one ever goes
Join her with her heart's true love, on acres gently blessed
With shady hills below pecans, where heroes go to rest

Notes:
This historical poem is about one of my HS classmate's Tejano (in the original 
sense) ancestors from the time of the Texas Revolution and the story is told 
from that perspective.

The main characters are not named in the poem intentionally, and place names 
are the old Spanish ones, but I will share with you the names of the 
protagonist and her true love, in case you are interested in reading about 
them. Her name was Angela de Jesus Maria Blasa Navarro. She was the niece of 
Juan Antonio Navarro, one of the signers of the Texas Declaration of 
Independence and a member of the important Navarro family of Bejar, present 
day San Antonio. She married William Gordon Cooke, one of the heroes of the 
Texas revolution, who is buried on Republic Hill at the Texas State cemetery 
along with other notables. Angela was buried near Brackettville, originally called 
Las Moras.


The Dunker man was Angela's 2nd husband, Abraham Geiger Martin. He was a 
member of the German Baptist Brethren church, nicknamed Dunkers because 
they practiced full body baptism, but required three full immersions before you 
were properly baptized. Apparently the marriage was a total failure and he 
divorced her, leaving her to raise his son and William Cooke's son alone.


Long poem by Isaiah Zerbst | Details |

Kate and Isobel

*There are only two damsels in this tale; all variations were simply for ease of writing.

Once Kate and Isabella went
To see the pretty fields of Gwent
And traipse through forest shade
They packed a picnic lunch for two
And skipped away in dresses blue
To find a charming glade

First tea and cakes, then off to play
They laughed and wandered all the day
'Till day was waxing faint
Then homeward faced, linked arm in arm
With never fear to cause alarm
Nor caution bring restraint

Alas! Alas! there lay a hole
With plot to swallow heart and soul
One golden-headed girl
That wretched hole may death berate
And end of being imprecate
That vile, vicious churl!

"Oh, help me, Kate!" cried Isobel
But fingers slipped and in she fell
'Mid shock and disbelief
Then Isabella, far below
Called, "Quickly, Katie! quickly go
For aid and sure relief."

Then Katie knelt beside the brim
Once sparkling eyes with tears aswim
And said, "I'll here remain."
But Isobel at once demurred
"Oh, Kate, some help must be secured
I cannot move for pain."

So off she went and searched around
But not one soul could there be found
Nor ever likely step't
She stopped awhile to sit and rest
Her folded hands to bosom pressed
And there she softly wept

A mounted knight then riding by
Beheld her tears and heard her sigh
And off his palfrey lit
Said he, "Fair damsel, golden-haired
Such doleful frame must be repaired
So speak thou whilst I sit."

"Alas, good Knight!" quoth woeful Kate
It may, I fear, be just too late
To save my friend to day
With haste, good knight, come, follow me
And see if succour yet may be
Oh, help me, knight, I pray."

The knight bestrode his lofty seat
Then set her aftward nice and neat
And off they set at trot
The knight she held with firmest hold
'Till at the pit both dark and cold
They Isabella sought

While night sped on at rapid pace
The knight set out to win the race
And save the damsel whole
A rope he from his saddle fetched
And tree to Isabella stretched
Then clambered in the hole

Right down the rope he quickly swung
And to her side he deftly sprung
He raised her from the dust
He tied a rope from waist to waist
And she her arms about him placed
In sweet, confiding trust

A span or two to hand he climbed
With Isabella right behind
'Till safety was secured
Then Kate and Isobel embraced
Said Kate, "What awful things you faced
And terrors you endured!"

Well, this was Isobel's reply
"Oh, Kate, I should not tell a lie
In word or even deed
Except to brave that curséd fall
It really was not bad at all
I knew you would succeed."

Then to the knight she turned and saith
"I thank thee, Knight, by all my faith
For saving me this night
Thus here I give my ring to wear
And trust that ye might ever fare
As well in ev'ry fight."

Then quoth the knight, "Thy ring I take
With faith that it myself will make
A nobler, better man
To fight for justice, truth, and peace
In hope that vice and evil cease
In ev'ry way I can.

"But let us neither tarry long
For hark! the cricket's evening song
Pervades the damp'ning air
So let me take thee, damsel, home
'Twould never do to leave thee roam
On halting legs to there."

Thus Isobel his palfrey rode
While Kate and he beside her strode
Right to their township sweet
"'Tis Belle and Kate!" the watchman called
And quickly down the drawbridge hauled
That they their kin might meet

The threesome turned from roads away
To streets of black and muted grey
'Till safely home at last
"Oh, praise the Lord," quoth Isobel
That though some trouble us befell
Those troubles now are past!"

"'Tis not so true," quoth Knight with grin
There yet remains to get thee in
And halting legs at that."
Then from the palfrey off she slipped
The knight her falling figure gripped
And bore her o'er the mat

His burden carried up the stairs
'Mid father's, mother's wond'ring stares
And gently placed in bed
Her father asked her why he came
She said that she was nearly lame
And dizzied in the head

At that he wished the knight to stay
But through the dark he rode away
His lamp the crescent moon
And though he had some deed to do
Those pretty maidens somehow knew
The knight would see them soon



Long poem by oluwatomiwo Akinyemi | Details |

3

Waiting waitng...... 
For the all-mighty godot 
godot godot.....I ask myself 
Where are you? 

I have searched the 
tempestuous seas 
I have toiled the arid desert 
All to no avail 
I have defiled timidity into the 
treshold of darkness 
Searching searching..... 
Without the sight of you... 

The angst I am feeling knows 
no bound 
Who will restore this toothless 
lion 
To its old state 
Who will shatter the plagues of 
poverty,corruption,unemploym
ent and these eels 
That denies us peace 

The young is no more getting 
younger 
The old is no more getting 
older 
Our end-less wait is drawing 
us closer 
To the long hand of the great 
striker 
Who converts at the sniff of a 
loop-hole 

Waiting...... 
Is a bane to my soul 
Who will deliver this fatherland 
From baby-land 
The oppressors without 
Have handed us over to the 
oppressors within 
Who have become our 
suppressors 
Who have turned out to be 
more brutal-ic in nature 

godot.. godot.... 
Where are you? 
Sometimes I doubt your 
existence 
But you are the chosen one 
sent to douse our exist-tense 
The blind leadeth those who 
have eyes 
Making those with sight 
question-in the validity of their 
optics 

Several pretend godots have 
come 
Promising the promises of the 
promise 
Of leading us to the promised 
land 
They conceal their aim 
Illusioning and indoctrinating 
our minds 
Into believing they have our 
interests at heart 
Our trust is stolen 
Just like the devil 
their main aim is brought to 
light 
We are all enslaved in the 
boss-om of corrupt-nation 

godot........ 
Where are you? 
Restore the pride and dignity 
of the blackest continent in the 
world 

They despised the colour of 
my skin 
Like the "esu-laa-lu" himself 
Who comes for nothing else 
But to kill,steal and annihilate 
us 
My broth-hel has enslaved me 
*Inn* a more calamitous way 
My anger is burn-ing up 
My body has turned into a 
worth-less one 

Because I have no educate-
nation 
They feel I do not deserve the 
freed-sodom 
And enjoyment of life 

Godot........ 
Where are you? 
If you exist show yourself 
Deliver us from these 
supplanters 
Who know nothing about 
father-hood 
These idiotic baboons and 
destructively greedy agents 
have been leading us 

To think mug-gabe fought for 
zimba--bwes independence 
And still holding on to power is 
so disheartening 
He ought to be thinking of his 
last days 
Not oppress you till I die 
Its hightime we continued 
chasing this gad-dafis,mob-
baraks,abi-idin sed ali out of 
power 

If it will take hero-ism 
Heroes we will be 

I thought I found the godot in 
my nation finally 
But you bring bad-luck than 
jonah 
You are so dumb like dumb 
asses behave like dummies 
You are weaker than the 
weakest weakling that was 
ever weak 
My brothers are being bombed 
by the bomber-men who are 
my supposed brothers 
They are so psycho-pathic in 
nature and character 
Fighting a stupid ideology.... 
They say "western education is 
a sin" 
Yet they are so dumb 
to know there weapon of 
destruction is westernized 
Bad-luck jonah you are no 
different 
From this haram-bees who are 
hell-bent 
On self-destruct-nation 
*A nothing* means of suicidal 
act 
Badluck jonah....awake from 
your sleep 
And go to your nineveh 
*Asuun* strike has been 
keeping stu-dent at home for 
months 
Like a death sentence 
Dent-in and becoming dent-tri-
mental to lifes 
The criminals you have on the 
street 
Are they not enough? 
Quit savage-ing the future of 
this young guns 

Godot....... 
Come forth if you are alive 
Like lazarus 
And deliver us from this sick-
ly* bond-age of *opp-rest-
less-nation* 

Godot.......am still keeping 
faith in you 
Don't let me die before your 
arrival 
Come and breathe life into our 
exist-tense
And destroy these forces of 
destruct-nation 
That is *threaten-in* this 
exist-tense of mine 
Gogot godot godot....... 
Come forth and rescue my 
nation 
If your existence is not an 
illusion.


Long poem by Therese Bacha | Details |

My Friend MY PEN

                                   My Friend My Pen.

Moments ago my world has gone grey my lover who for years 
has governed my entire creation is walking away. 

My energy failed me i felt cold when my dark mind went astray 
I could not understand why? why I had to judge him hold a grudge 
against him his reasons should be justified hopefully one day. 

Staying home alone could not calm my storm
Wanting to talk and share my pain I searched for 
Someone but it was all in vain nobody was free
Friends were passive and non receptive. 

My persistence pushed me to climb up my favorite tree 
And find my old friend my pen which cannot talk or walk 
But knows whats in my soul will search to find a way to give
Me hope to accept & cope that my lover was walking away 
And my world was turning grey.

My Pen 
And I worked as a team for years forces me to dream 
Lifts me up high when I start to sigh encourages me 
Not to frown but to smile and comply to forget that my world 
Turned grey because i was about to be given away as a prey
Due to my lover walking away.

My Pen 
Stood by me when my days got cold & nights 
were dead as i refused to be fed i did not want 
to hear or fear that i should be ready to obey 
that my lover was walking Away.

My Pen 
My friend convinced me to stay as a mistress and 
begged me nothing should come to an end please 
defend his fate and admit to submit your love to 
him before he goes away as maybe someday he'll 
come back on any other day. 

Leaving my friend My Pen hanging alone on the tree 
I felt an uncontrollable urge to run be free to hold his 
Picture take a glance just a glance but in seconds tears 
Started dripping out of it. I sat on my rocking chair 
Staring through the night carrying my pain in my heart.
 
I needed to stay speechless not even a wink of hope 
Having no right at the moment to end it here i knew 
what i had to be doing I needed to remain his hero 
even helpless i will love my lover remembering years 
ago when our path crossed each other we froze stunned 
locked our eyes and uttered the unspoken It was love at 
first sight.

My Pen woke me up one day to open my mail I found a 
note from My lover unexpectedly my breathing stopped 
the excitement to search through his soul gave me the 
reason to jump and read. It said:

My Darling:
I have a confession to make why i walked away 
Let us connect to talk as it feels a lifetime has gone by
During your absence the clock is ticking our now will 
Become a past i beg you heal my pain and allow 
Me to recreate the moment that could last forever
As I never lost my passion loving you.

You have to understand the gravity of my sickness 
i pray to have a second chance as my thoughts were 
out of control had to take my own punishment in silence 
the day i woke up with no memory because of those attacks 
I was giving you a hard time but i loved you since day one.

When i am awake even when my thoughts abandon me 
i feel you are my a-liveliness does that make any sense to you? 
Wait for me help me build the ruins around my brain
allow your miraculous hands to cure me.

Due to my medications nothing makes sense to me anymore one 
day I am here another day I am unaware who I am how I look 
What I think where am I will I live will I die help me feel 
Anything something help me to heal.

My Pen my friend dropped from my hand leaving me alone 
to sink and think. Suddenly i felt my pillow was wet my forehead 
was sweating my whole body was shaking I have to let him 
Comeback like nothing ever happened I called out loud 
Come my way and stay. I love you my man my lover.
I dialed his number.

                         Thank You My Friend
                               "My Pen".
                            9/12/12
                                Terry.


Long Poems