Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Long Soldier Poems | Long Soldier Poetry

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

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Dylan Irvin | Details |

Phantom Journals

Phantom Journal Entry 1
 Wednesday 8:03 A.M.
I found Jesus at a bus stop this morning. He recommended that I comb my hair. I told him if I had any nails I would hand them over.  Monty  found a shoe full of vomit by a dumpster. Someone had an interesting night. This apartment smells like stale french fries. Frank is still sleeping on the counter next to Mr. Coffee. There is a stray cat clawing at the windowpane. The town is gradually waking up. The park across the street is filled with shirkers. My mind is still living in last night’s conversation. But I don’t remember it very well.  Shit, I’m going to be late for 

Phantom Journal Entry 2

Wednesday 11:13 P.M.

Work sucked. I think the bartender is an alcoholic. She hides a flask in her bra. It fell out when we were in the stall together. Frank is sprawled across the kitchen floor. Monty steps over him to grab a beer. The stray cat is now sleeping on the windowpane. Nothing ever changes from morning to night. Except Monty is drinking coffee and not beer. 

Phantom Journal Entry 3

Good Friday 9:47 P.M.

The ocean left the brine. The girls here are all made of smoke, and their dreams are living in my beer. The worms are drunk on the stove. Frank passed out hugging the toilet. Monty takes a piss right next to his face. Some girl just asked me what I was writing. I told her that I was rewriting the Bible. She seemed confused. Her hair wasn’t combed either. The guy at the bus stop would be ashamed. I can’t remember his name though. The television can’t stop spewing poorly scripted ‘reality’ shows. This Friday isn’t very Good. 

Phantom Journal Entry 4

Monday 3:12 A.M.

My eyes are broken garage doors off the tracks. I’ve drank too much Red Bull. She keeps waking up and asking me for water. Apparently her mouth is in a drought. A dead soldier lays between her breasts. Frank keeps drooling on the carpet. My favorite ash tray is tipped over next to Mr. Coffee. This desk keeps hiding words from me. Monty wonders how much a plane ticket to Hell costs. He never sleeps.

Phantom Journal Entry 5

Thursday 12:31 A.M.

It smells of raw fish and bleach in here.  My palms are sore. Monty told me to stab myself with pencils to make sure I could still bleed. So I did.  That girl ordered me a pizza. But I forgot it under the couch.  The medicine chest is nearly empty. When Frank wakes up he is taking a trip to 5th Street to get more. I wonder if they sell bandages there? Will Mr. Coffee brew marijuana for us? My brain is starting to throw up. 

Phantom Journal Entry 6

Thursday 12:38 A.M.

This desk keeps mocking me. I offered it to the guy at the bus stop, but he said he didn’t want anymore wood. The dishes are now a chemistry project. But Mr. Coffee is always clean. I can’t get this girl to stop showing me her tattoos. I miss the bartender at work. She got fired tomorrow. So I bought her a new bra. The medicine chest is empty now. Frank is never awake when I write.

Phantom Journal Entry 7

Thursday 4:30 P.M.

I finally got the garage doors fixed. I guess they weren’t closed enough.  There is a ghost that keeps haunting the hallway in my dreams. She is pretty hot. Except she keeps tilting the pictures on the wall.
The thirsty girl still won’t leave. Neither will the cat. We may have found the cure for cancer in our dishes. But probably not.  Frank is talking in his sleep about stepping on rats. Monty is listening to Beethoven while he attempts to write poetry. He is an awful writer. 

Phantom Journal Entry 8

Monday 1:49 A.M.

The guy at the bus stop asked me if I wanted to drink his blood. I told him I wasn’t thirsty. The water was running from the shower. Frank was dreaming in the tub. Monty ate chicken wings with the tattooed girl. I can’t remember her name. I think that cat is hungry too. Mr. Coffee wants to go to sleep. There is broken glass sticking out of my feet. The sky is bleeding white. My mind begins to masturbate.

Phantom Journal Entry 9

Sunday 3:33 A.M.

The brine is looking for the ocean. The girls here are all made of smoke, and their realities are dead on the floor. This desk is growing a face. The medicine chest is full. Monty picks up a filthy habit from the black lake. I haven’t seen Frank for a few days. He must be under the couch. I robbed the guy at the bus stop. Turns out he didn’t really save much. The thirsty tattooed girl shattered Mr. Coffee last night. I will miss him dearly. Now my shot glass is spawning worms. 

Phantom Journal Entry 10

Tuesday and I don’t know what time it is

It’s been 369 days since I last wrote an entry. I’ve simply had nothing to say. Monty is living in the streets somewhere. I think of him every time I buy a loaf of bread. I wonder if he found out how much tickets cost? That cat finally starved a few weeks ago. I married that thirsty tattooed girl. I still don’t remember her name though. Frank went to sleep in someone elses apartment. Never did talk to him much. The worms are all marching in a line. Someone stole my medicine chest. I think it was Monty.  The guy at the bus stop was thrown into an asylum. But somehow vanished one day. The garage doors are now closed on a regular basis. That ghost finally straightened out the tilted pictures. I think I’ve been combing my hair a lot better lately. I am still a phantom to society. But that’s okay. Nobody knows my name.








Long poem by Isaiah Zerbst | Details |

The Maid of Orleans

Reflecting in her garden sits a winsome little maid;
She holds a purple flower like the circlet that she made
And wrapped about her braids to grace her forehead like a crown;
Her thick and shining braids that are the shade of chestnut brown.
A soft and dreamy smile lifts her lips of cherry rose
As she so elegantly lifts the flower to her nose
To smell the rich and heady fragrance rising from its soul-
Upon this day in early May, her heart with joy is full.
But look! The heavens open wide, and joy is changed to fear,
For Michael the Archangel in the garden does appear,
And with him stand Saint Margaret and Saint Catharine, sent to seek
This girl of twelve, and in her frightened youthful ears to speak
Words form the Lord, of how someday, somehow, she'll have to save
Her native land, her land of France, from lying in the grave.
When in their bright angelic garb these saints to heav'n returned,
She knew they had been sent from God, her heart within her burned
With strong desire, with heaven's fire, to do her Father's will;
Her heart beats hard, while all around is silent, calm and still.

The years pass by, now seventeen, her hour is fully come,
And what is now but distant fancy, dull and throbbing hum
Will be her life, her joy, her pain; her darkness or her light:
For God and country, king and freedom, must, she must needs fight.
The chains of England must be broken, young prince Charles crowned:
A source of hope, of inspiration must for France be found;
For civil war rakes raging claws through weary, hopeless men,
Who fight and die, and sacrifice, and lose their homes again;
Their gardens, flocks and herds, and treasures, all are swept away:
With nothing left but life itself, and naught to do but pray.

God heard their prayer and sent her there for their deliverance,
To lead them on to victory through every circumstance
Of treachery or deviltry that loomed on every side.
Urged on by all the saints above and martyrs who had died,
She bound her armor to her body, helmet to her head;
A troop of eager soldiers to the Orleans siege she led.
Without a fear she faced the battle, banner held up high;
It filled each fainting heart with spirit, waving in the sky:
Unfailing, never falling, always standing at the fore,
And filling every weary soul with courage to the core.
Though wounded by an arrow striking close beside her heart,
She still pressed on to victory, she played her vital part.
The Maid of Orleans did her best, she held back not at all,
But risked her life at every turn to heed her heav'nly call;
She fought and bled and braved the beast until her king was crowned,
And even then she carried on, she traveled all around:
Each city gained broke off the chains of power-hungry kings,
Who killed to gain another's land, his citizens and things.

Alas! She met her fate at hands that should have helped her cause;
The countrymen she battled sold her to be judged by laws
And men that all disfavored her, yet still she firmly stood,
Proud head held high, two gleaming eyes; she answered best she could
Each twisted question meant to trap her clear but simple mind:
With wit and art she answered each; they really could not find
A cause for death, but death must be for such an enemy
The fate; who sees such visions full of vile heresy,
Of saints and angels revelating mortals with God's plan.
They also charged her with the sin of dressing like a man,
But it was of necessity she donned a soldier's guise;
For all throughout the war-torn realm roamed pairs of hateful eyes
Who did not heed a woman's cries, but did what pleased them best:
They killed or maimed or stained for life from eastern France to west.

So thus it is, not twenty years, they chain her to a stake-
The final chain that no amount of bravery can break.
Within her dress, hugged to her chest, she tucks a wooden cross;
The symbol of the Son of God, who faced such early loss
Of life, and like her was betrayed and mocked and led to die
Without a cause, without a crime, without a reason why.
Ten thousand people press around; she feels the burning heat,
As flames grow hotter, ever hotter- licking at her feet:
But on one thing and one thing only both her eyes are fixed;
Upon the figure held before her- on the crucifix.
And she is thinking of a time that seems so long ago,
When as a girl she used to sit and watch her garden grow;
She'd pick the purple petaled flowers, braid them in her hair;
Her life was simple, pure, and sweet, she hadn't any care
Until Saint Michael gave her calling to her way back then.
But if she had another life, she'd do it all again,
For God and country, king and freedom she could die this death;
And so it was that thus she died, and with her final breath
Her soul and body parted ways, and while her body burned,
Her soul went on to realms unknown, her soul to heav'n returned
Into the hands of He who made her, to the arms of Christ the Lord;
Who made for her a better body, more than just restored.
Here ends the troubles of this maiden, gone are jail cells dark:
Forever live the Maid of Orleans, known as Joan of Arc.



{Written by Isaiah Zerbst. For the first time published on October the 13th, 2014.}


Long poem by Thomas Mansfield | Details |

When Three Cousins Played

Three cousins played a “game’ of war
A map of Europe spread across the floor
No adults there to keep the score
As each of them wanted more and more

Three of four empires lay upon that map
As they played and ‘warred’ and they did clap
For them it was so much fun
The Tsar, the King and the Kaiser Hun

Their brightly painted toy soldiers there
Horses, cannon and ships to spare
Fields of green, mountains so high
And winding rivers flowing by

They chatted, laughed - each did deride
No malice here - no need to chide
“I’ll take that while you have this”
“And you can have the rest” said with a hiss

The little prince was not too happy
Didn’t like being the youngest chappy
Scattered toys with a vicious kick
“One day, you watch, your wounds you’ll lick”

But then they laughed and had some tea
(Cakes and scones stop the fighting, see)
Then the boisterous cousins resumed once more
Horses and soldiers were flung against the door

Cannon crashed and sabres slashed
Lances lunged and bayonets flashed
Horses fell amid broken carts
These small boys played in fits and starts

The clock rolled on relentlessly
Who knew then what would come to be
These boys now grown to Emperors
Played with real life and caused real wars

No longer soldiers made of lead
These soldiers breathed and fought and bled
And now the grown children fought for real
With a rancour fuelled by their ardent zeal

The call to arms was swift and sure
Decrees brought nations to their war
Men and women joined the cause
Volunteered without let or pause
On land and sea and in the air
The raw recruits signed up everywhere
Landlord, docker, farmer, daughter
Leapt like lemmings to the slaughter

Knowing not that they were pawns
In this “family” feud, so filled with scorn
Becoming airman, sailor, soldier, wren
Many would never see their land again

Their women joined as well, of course
And filled the factories, making guns and gauze
Toiled and sweated, fabricating bombs
As the cousins watched with such detached aplomb

The First World War: “War to end all wars”
Was the Emperors’ legacy to ours and yours
They took their subjects from far-flung lands
Pulled them from forest, dale and Raj and sand.

The Emperors vied each other viciously
Ego and spat sparred ominously
It was another’s war but they refused to see
The brutal costs of this calamity

War declared and fought  - millions died
While these three cousins sat on their thrones and sighed
Just like the children with the map
They battled hard but now they didn’t clap

The cost of war was a heavy one
Ypres, Verdun, Mons, the Somme
Paschendale just to name a few
The blood rivers flowed and grew and grew

Four years of war and carnage
Ravaged Europe’s lands
While those three wretched cousins
Stood and wrung their hands

One Emperor imprisoned by his very own
Would soon be killed and there no more throne
Another forced to abdicate
Death in a foreign land was his fate

The third had played a different card
Had visited men and women so battle scarred
Had he foreseen the masses plight
Had he “joined’ in their fight?
Yet not even he was spared
As the masses had seen, had felt, had heard
That no more will a king decide
Their fate, the deaths, the genocide

One of those three cousins and his family
Was cruelly murdered ignominiously
After centuries the hated, despotic Tsar
Made way to the Bolshevik commissar

The second cousin haughty, proud
Was chased away by a defeated crowd
Languished in the land of dyke and dam
Helplessly watched blitzkrieg from a sure madman

The third cousin watched this sullenly
His health was racked for all to see
Perhaps he reflected and recalled the days
When as boys those three cousins had played

Republics sprung up everywhere
The spoils of war the people’s share
Though kings were replaced by presidents
Again war would follow. Again Europe rent

In an aside, as the map was shred
Europe torn apart as the Empires bled
The fourth Empire also crumbled
Started it all – now meekly humbled

The proud Hapsburgs also dethroned
Austro-Hungarian Empire creaked and groaned
Then splintered and shattered like crystal glass
As Europe fell to the common mass

Three young cousins with the lead/tin toys
Had played and warred when they were boys
What frightful shameful fact
When, as men, they again did act

When Emperors played with human lives
Unheeded the senseless sacrifice
Aided by ruthless men of state
That threw Europe to a dreadful fate

A bygone age; a noble past
Had been replaced. The die was cast
Let’s not place on them the singular blame
When politicians and tyrants did the same

Three young cousins played a game
The map of Europe, then the same
But they would live to see the end result
For throwing the world into blind tumult


Long poem by gianni pansensoy | Details |

Stitches and Dreams

t was half past five before sunrise, 
when darkness faded into the misty Saturday's dawn, 
just an hour after a bloody confrontation, 
but a brave woman descended into a blood-bathed
street of Lustre, 
with hungry cats and mice on that battleground, 
walking while her purple robe turned pale
with agony, pain and pity, 
completely depressed by the horrible aftermath of war, 
where bullet-ridden houses pounded by an insane belief of
terrorism as a means towards a divine end, 
and victims died as tools for selfish political propaganda, 
while thousands evacuated from the satanic bangsamoro reality
that enriched the few, 
and too many had died under the brutality of corruption, 
some were murdered by extreme poverty, 
where social justice was just an unreachable dream, 
she bled for such an elusive dream.

Yet she strolled in between ruined homes and
broken aspirations, 
through the portal where blood drifted into nothingness
and souls decapitated by a turbulent past, 
while her veil of blue moistened by tears of sorrow, 
with eyes saddened by relentless conflict, 
when the status of civilization was measured 
by the degree of human barbaric atrocities, 
and she knelt down before the walls collapsing, 
torn into pieces by an extreme hate, 
razed to the ground by religious fanaticism, 
When would they realize to co-exist in harmony? 
she asked her thoughts, 
while tears tasted like bitter almonds, 
flowing between her sweet scented cheeks.

The reason behind this violence she could not grasp, 
but to shed tears of blood, 
within her confusion was a lightning, 
where palm leaves fell without solution, 
yet she appeared with an angelic face, 
with eyes shining brighter than diamonds, 
while the moonsoon wind blew her veil, 
floating over the decomposing corpse of a soldier
entangled between electric wires, 
and the dead was brought to life like Lazarus.

He knelt down from death, 
with his camouflage uniform torn by bullets, 
but the wounds recuperated, 
he recognized the blue veiled woman in front of him, 
the divine blessed mother of Jesus, 
he wept like a child, 
and when his eyes opened, 
the  woman went back into
the holy Fort Del Pilar, 
he forgot not the message from her, 

'Son! When humans learn to depart from hatred
then there is no reason to pull a trigger against someone.'
It was half past five before sunrise, 
when darkness faded into the misty Saturday's dawn, 
just an hour after a bloody confrontation, 
but a brave woman descended into a blood-bathed
street of Lustre, 
with hungry cats and mice on that battleground, 
walking while her purple robe turned pale
with agony, pain and pity, 
completely depressed by the horrible aftermath of war, 
where bullet-ridden houses pounded by an insane belief of
terrorism as a means towards a divine end, 
and victims died as tools for selfish political propaganda, 
while thousands evacuated from the satanic bangsamoro reality
that enriched the few, 
and too many had died under the brutality of corruption, 
some were murdered by extreme poverty, 
where social justice was just an unreachable dream, 
she bled for such an elusive dream.

Yet she strolled in between ruined homes and
broken aspirations, 
through the portal where blood drifted into nothingness
and souls decapitated by a turbulent past, 
while her veil of blue moistened by tears of sorrow, 
with eyes saddened by relentless conflict, 
when the status of civilization was measured 
by the degree of human barbaric atrocities, 
and she knelt down before the walls collapsing, 
torn into pieces by an extreme hate, 
razed to the ground by religious fanaticism, 
When would they realize to co-exist in harmony? 
she Asked her thoughts, 
while tears tasted like bitter almonds, 
flowing between her sweet scented cheeks.

The reason behind this violence she could not grasp, 
but to shed tears of blood, 
within her confusion was a lightning, 
where palm leaves fell without solution, 
yet she appeared with an angelic face, 
with eyes shining brighter than diamonds, 
while the moonsoon wind blew her veil, 
floating over the decomposing corpse of a soldier
entangled between electric wires, 
and the dead was brought to life like Lazarus.

He knelt down from death, 
with his camouflage uniform torn by bullets, 
but the wounds recuperated, 
he recognized the blue veiled woman in front of him, 
the divine blessed mother of Jesus, 
he wept like a child, 
and when his eyes opened, 
the miraculous woman went back into
the holy Fort Del Pilar, 
he forgot not the message from her, 

'Son! When humans learn to depart from hatred
then there is no reason to pull a trigger against someone.'


Long poem by Cyndi MacMillan | Details |

THE STAND

The eyes of Sarlissia were as large as the seventh moon of her parent's planet. Not yet five, she stood before one of the bloodied walls of the Commons, her shimmering skin almost translucent after a year of near-starvation.  Hope was gone. She'd been caught. 

Until now, she'd managed to survive the culling of her people, the Atramillons. Quickly, so quickly, she'd become apt at hiding from the League of Cleansing and their vicious hounds, laying low in rodent tunnels or remaining still for days in the tight, mud caves of a nearby bog. 

Six times this season, she'd travel North to the city of her birth, risking execution. Praise the Maker-Being, there were those who did not hate her species, those who endangered themselves and their families by being merciful.. Many of the Others offered her small amounts of food and water, a pair of shoes, one had even provided her with a knife. Sarlissia realized what would happen to those who had helped her, and though she now faced her death, she refused to call out, choosing to protect her protectors.   

Most windows of the nearby homes were dark, but she could still see several curtains lift.  The Others who had cared enough to give her scraps were a mere forty feet away. But she took small, shallow breaths and accepted that she was soon to become light and join all those who had been culled before her.

"Rot, where are your parents?" one of the soldiers asked. 

Sarlissia bit her lips, tried to still the quiver that had begun in her knees. 

"Clip her. Then we won't be able to shut her up."

Four heads turned as a door opened. 

It was Marion, kind Marion who'd given her more than any Other. Sarlissia shook her head, beseeched the kind lady with her eyes to turn and leave. 

Instead, Marian dashed towards her, wailing. One soldier lifted his assault rifle, but his Sergeant pushed the weapon down. "Wait!"

"Please, don't!" Sarlissia cried. "I am ready to die."

Marian reached the child, stroked her softly glowing cheek. "We have been silent too long. And I will no longer stand by to see the slaughter of the innocents. May your kind forgive us, one day."

"Stand aside,"The Sergeant called.  "They must be eradicated."

"I will not move." Marion lifted her chin. "You will have to cull me, too. Son."

The Sergeant shifted."Mother, they are not human, they are worse than vermin, capable of destroying the logic of nature, capable of-"

"What? Changing shape, healing, traveling through time? Yes. I know."Marion sighed. "What have you done, Thomas? My God, what have we all done? Can't you see that she means no harm? Her species deserved a chance. It was a mistake, one mistake-"

"One mistake that changed the course of history. Mankind cannot chance that kind of power in the hands of those we do not know and are unable to trust. Order must be restored, no matter by what means. No matter the cost. It is for the good of the many."

"Are you hearing yourself? We are the monsters, can't you see that? Marion shielded Sarlissia, her voice gruff. "Do what you must do and I will do what I should have done, long, long ago."

Sarlissia tried to move, but Marion held her fast.

Suddenly, several doors opened. Sarlissia began to weep, unable to control her fear for her beloved Others as more and more began to run towards her. Shame of jeopardizing these kind strangers consumed her.  She should have stayed away. 

Soon, there were dozens of Others around her, united in their want to save her.  The crowd grew to be hundreds.

The soldiers stood frozen, uncertain of what to do. Before them stood their friends and family, people they had known their entire lives. 

It seemed like a century until the Sergeant lowered his rifle. One by one the other soldier did the same. Weapons fell to the ground. There was a moment of silence, of stunned disbelief that Law would be broken.

Then Sarlissia looked up, smiled at Marion and nodded. The Others parted and the glowing girl walked towards the soldiers. 

She reached out and light traveled between her and the Sergeant, seemed to sing in the air around them. He dropped to his knees and began to weep. 

Sarlissia leaned forward, pressed her forehead against his and whispered, "Hush, I forgive you. After all, you're only human"



---- the---?----beginning------


Long poem by Vee Bdosa | Details |

THE SERB DOG

            The Serb Dog by Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
     There was a bunch of soldiers standing around watching
a house burn and somebody said "Was that somebody screaming,
did you hear somebody scream?" 
     "Shut up idiot," said the lieutenant. "You don't want
the Serbs to have anything when they get here do you?" He
was from Dodge City and some of the other guys called him
Cowboy. Most of them had joined the unit in Naples and this
was their first assignment in what used to be Yugoslavia.
Now it was Hell.
     They could hear faint gunshots coming from over the
hill and everyone knew time was running out. Around the
corner a bunch of people was being herded out of town but
not everyone wanted to leave. They could hear some of the
older peoples voices pleading not to be put on a bus, but
nobody knew what else to do. The children only cried and
some of the soldiers tried not to think about the children
crying. Finally they heard the bus door slam shut and the
sound of the engine as it roared into movement then
gradually the sound disappeared behind the distant gunfire.
     "I heard they signed today," said one of the soldiers.
"Did you hear,
lieutenant, about them signing a ceasefire?"
     "Let them sign," replied the lieutenant "I will sign,
too. Torch that house over there. Who cares about another
cease fire?"
     "Why didn't you join the Croats, Cowboy? What ever made
a nicefellow like you sign on with us cut throats?" Everybody
snickered but Cowboy got over being irritated by their
remarks the first week. 
     "They didn't offer enough money," he snapped.
     Suddenly a dog came running down the road and one of the
soldiers said "Get that damned dog!" Everybody started
shooting at the same time and the dog started running and
jumping and yapping all at the same time then disappeared
behind a house. 
     "That's one lucky dog!" somebody said. 
     A captain came running up and said "Why were you guys
shooting at that dog?" 
     One of the soldeirs said "It was a Serb dog." Somebody
else said "It was in heat!" 
     "Well don't shoot no more dogs," said the captain.
Then the dog stuck its head out and a shot came from across
the road, shattering the stone building right next to the
dogs head. The dog let out a yelp and started running down
the road, away from the soldiers. 
      "Look at that dog run!" shouted the captain. "Don't
anybody shoot! I like that dog! Run Dog! Run Dog! Don't
let them shoot you!"
      Just then a volley of gunfire echoed from behind
the buldings and bullets could be seen hitting the ground
all around the running dog, then some bullets struck the
dog and it fell over without a sound. Some other soldiers
came around from behind the buildings across the street
from where the dog had been and they were laughing.
     "That was my dog!" yelled the captain to the other
soldiers.
     "That was your dog?" asked one of the men.
     "Yes, I said so!" repled the captain. "Didn't I just
tell you it was my dog?"
     "You just killed our dog!" snapped the lieutenant. 
     "We thought it was a Serb dog," the soldier said. "How
could we tell it was your dog?"
      "Well, you be careful about shooting dogs from now
on!" snapped the lieutenant. "Good dogs are hard to find
around here."
      "That dog was rabid!" laughed one of the soldiers
who shot the dog.
      "That dog was in heat!" laughed a soldier in the
first group.
      "That dog is dead!" said another guy. Everybody
started laughing.
      "Get back to torching those houses," said the
captain. 
      Suddenly they heard the dog yelping and when they
looked down the road they saw it running again. Everybody
started screaming and shooting at once and the dog
disappeared into a bunch of bushes just as some bullets hit
the dirt all around it.
      "That's the luckiest damned dog I ever saw!" said
the captain.
      "Guess it wasn't a Serb dog after all," laughed
the lieutenant.
      "Guess not," said a soldier. "No Serb dog could be
that lucky."
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet


Long poem by Loch David Crane | Details |

The Mojo Trick

The Mojo Trick
Loch David Crane
June 1979

Sweat-sticky and hot! The P. I. is not
	a comfortable place to be;
but sit here and perspire (as though by the fire)
	and I'll tell a tale to thee.

I was coming alive in a Philippine dive
	after Mojo and San Miguels;
 the raging fire in my stomach went higher
	but my sea legs rode out the swells.

I began with a pitcher of Mojo that hit
	a spot in my appetite;
and glass after glass I drank till the last
	and soon was feeling just right.	

Then a hostess sat down in a low-cut gown
	and asked "I sit with you tonight?"
And I nodded OK in a nonchalant way
	so she seated herself on my right.

Now the hostesses here are all drink San Miguel beer
	And the same is served all around;
but it don't show much class to charge five times' a 	glass
when serving's the same size per round.
So you pay a dear price to drink beer over ice
	which is how it is served in P.I.;
if you buy a girl beer when she says "I work here,"
	then she knows you're a Big Spender guy.

So I looked at this girl and my mind began to whirl
	and the Mojo played a trick.
Her face was so funny – a nose like a bunny –
	I wouldn't let her flick my Bic!

I won’t call her ugly, but with that funny mug she'd
	make customers run and hide;
you could send that girl in to a crowded room; then
	watch as horrified man stepped outside.

So as I drank my beer with a grin ear  to ear
	I said "My name is Billy, I think."
She was hardly demure; she said "My name is La Tour.
	I love you no lie.  Buy me drink."

Well I should have said "no," and let the chick go
	but I wasn't alone in the place;
and the thought of all night with this dog was a fright
	though her body was nice – but that face!

I thought "just one more brew,” cause I'd only had two,
	and I said that I'd buy her a drink.
Then she gave me a grin with her toothless brown chin
	and my self image started to sink.

But because I was shy (I'm just that sort of guy)
	I just couldn't tell her to leave;
so I stared at the band and I drummed with my hand
	and I brushed off the lint from my sleeve.

Well the music was fine; but the bar girl's next line
	was to say "Are you married, young man?"
And I saw my way out and lied with a pout –
	told her I had a wife in Japan.

So she finished her beer, and was soon gone from here,
and I ordered two beers to celebrate;
I was lucky, I thought, not to get caught
	between her and a magistrate.

For the Philippine girls wear long dresses and curls
	and use perfume and makeup for baits;
for to marry a guy, seaman or G.I.,
	means a free trip back to the States.

Then a man from the crew asked me "What's wrong with 	you?
	Why did you let that girl go?"
And I told him her face was scare spots off an ace
	but he looked back at me and said "No."

I called for "beer 12" and started to delve
	into my pocket for money;
my friend said "I'll buy," and his cash didn't lie,
	and "Mind if I sit with your honey?"
I said "you can do just what you want to do,"
	and I said that I couldn’t look at her;	
but he thought she was cute, had a nice bod to boot,
	so I nodded to go ahead after.

But beer thirteen made my vision grow keen,
	and I saw what a prize I had missed;
"I have drunk too much brew!   She was beautiful, too."
	as I saw him voluptuously kissed.

I thought "How could this be? She said she loved me! "
	My hand shook; my ice cubes went clink.
I heard her say to him "My name is Tuptim.
	I love you no lie.  By me drink."

So I smiled. I was glad; I was no longer mad
	'cause the Mojo had clouded my eyes;
I realized then she was after my friend, 
	and I hoped he was quick with his lies.

So it's "sailor beware!" In Olongopo there;
	where the girls fish for guys in the bars;
and though I often roam, I always come home,
	– single! Thanking my lucky stars.

– By the Phantom of the O2 level

(O1 and O2 are Officer’s and Civilians’ quarters on the USS Kitty Hawk; I taught English aboard several ships at sea, in the Program Afloat for College Education.)


Long poem by David William Breidenthal | Details |

My Savior and I Share Irresistible Love

*Verse 15* 
I found the light at the end of the darksome tunnel
You make me dance with a gratitude of attitude… you make me marvel…
Rihanna: Save me, oh savior…rescue me, oh sexy savior
Rihanna/Beyonce/Lady Gaga/me/ Christina Aguilera/Maroon 5 main singer/Bruno 
Mars/etc.: Out of the blue…x3
Lady Gaga: You’re bliss, like going a-top of mount Everest
You were the best, though you put me to the test…
But, I’ll keep trying my best and just dance
It will be ok…it will be just fine…doodadooda 
Just dance…we’re stuck in a sugar-coated trancex3 j-j-j-just dance,
You fancy pants! We’re spiraling in a trance…
Rihanna: Save me, oh savior…rescue me, oh sexy savior
Beyonce: I must add, honey – I must add
Give me the best you can, boy…
You make me loving you so baaaad…
It makes me sad to depart from yah – we’re a toy,
Broken into two…
Half of me can’t live without you…

*Chorus*

You’re my ultimate addiction – you lift me higher than cloud seven
I gottah keep pace to run this race the right way…
Alright, you’re making my day…you are like my cherished Haven
Satisfaction is ours, baby…nothing’s in my way today!
Can you see it like fireworks in the sky?
Did you ever wish to be free
Like those mockingbirds and jays in the aqua-blue sky? 
You and I will receive the ability to fly
The ability to show off our inner glow…yah know…soooo…
And we’ll be putting up a show…yah know…yah know…let the wicked wind blow…
oooh ahhahah ohhh…
Take away my flaws…
And give me a big applause
Let go of all worries
Gather around me, my stinging, beautiful bees…
I get pleasure off of your applauses…giving me satisfaction…I feel like I’m top dog 
right now!

*Verse 16*
You’re a satisfaction, making me a baby-blue hue…
If you only knew…how much I truly love you
I truly love you…I compliment you…I adore you…
I obsess over you…I don’t know what you would do
If you h-heard these words, out of  the buhbuhbuhbuh-blue…
Rihanna: Save me, oh savior…rescue me, oh sexy savior
Rihanna/Beyonce (duet): You’re my beloved disease…
You put my heart and mind at ease…
Please…please don’t reject me again
Where have yah been? I see your eyes – chaos and guilt brewin’
Rihanna: Save me, oh savior…rescue me, oh sexy savior…
Rihanna: Save me, oh you naughty savior…rescue me, oh sexy, surreal and 
beloved savior…I’m as strong as a soldier…

*Chorus*

You’re my ultimate addiction – you lift me higher than cloud seven
I gottah keep pace to run this race the right way…
Alright, you’re making my day…you are like my cherished Haven
Satisfaction is ours, baby…nothing’s in my way today!
Can you see it like fireworks in the sky?
Did you ever wish to be free
Like those mockingbirds and jays in the aqua-blue sky? 
You and I will receive the ability to fly
The ability to show off our inner glow…yah know…soooo…
And we’ll be putting up a show…yah know…yah know…let the wicked wind blow…
oooh ahhahah ohhh…
Take away my flaws…
And give me a big applause
Let go of all worries
Gather around me, my stinging, beautiful bees…
I get pleasure off of your applauses…giving me satisfaction…I feel like I’m top dog 
right now!

*Verse 17*
Beyonce: You’re interesting beyond reason and logic…our love ain’t plastic
You’re not a brick on the wall 
You’re my fantasy – you’re just that fancy & fantastic…so epic…
Give me your all…your all…stand tall – give me your all!
Rihanna: Answer your phone…x3 Don’t leave me alone
On my own, I’m a broken bone…dry as a bone
But, I just wanna shout:
What now? I just can’t figure it out
I don’t wanna wait it out – I need you as quickly as possible…I need you not to 
depart from my arms and tell me if I’m on a good start
I need your satisfaction without a smack of doubt – 
Our love is irresistible – so magical, it’s so crystal clear that you’re here with me in 
heart
You're a wonderful savior and we share our irresistible love...I'm hoping this 
delicate heart won't shatter apart . . .


Long poem by Brian Johnston | Details |

Views of a Dark Canyon: Poems en Duo 1

(By Youth, Beauty, and Age)      

MISS YOU, BRO! 

To: My bro, The heaven, God’s Palace

Dear One, 

All the fights
That we had in the nights, 
Cross across my mind …
And now they all feel kind, 
‘Cos they brought me near to you.
‘Cos they made us who we were….
I remember, 
The thoughts we shared.
All the dangers we dared.
All the boats we made.
And you understood, 
My silence unsaid….
You were younger than me, 
But in many ways you were the elder.
More brave, More truthful.
More loving and More youthful…
You were there for me, 
When I needed you …
But now, you are lost...
And never to return………
Even in the face of death, 
You were brave.
You died like a soldier.
And in my mind you, 
Always live like that…
You could have taken me, 
I would have readily come.
But you didn’t bother to ask.
And now, 
I am stuck up here…
I know, 
To die like you, 
We have to be brave.
Also, I know, 
To live here without you, 
I have to be brave …
I don’t know how I live, 
Without you by my side…
But life is a challenge, 
Which you can meet or refuse.
And I have decided to meet it.
Face to face, Eye to eye.
Heart to heart and Soul to soul…
You are, 
One in a million, 
One of a kind.
Like an eclipse, which comes? 
Once in a year, 
You came to me, 
Once in my lifetime…
No one can replace you, 
No one can erase you.
You shall live in My mind, 
My heart and My soul.
Forever and ever and ever…

From: Your Sis, People’s Paradise, The Earth 

Neethu Panicker
December 15,2013

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Fallen Riddle

An echo that is deep
Reaches the very core of my fears
A rare devotion from a love so dear
A driven, more compelling earth
Can't find such a name
A name I shall not reveal
For I shall not be so vain
To feel the presence of the mighty dead
The sorrow is like a singing sparrow
Trembling upon my premonition
As trees howl in this unforgiving wind
Tragedy, what a beautiful scene we've made
But a loss can only take so much away
An echo that is deep
I know how deep it weeps
To he who watches over me
Let life bring what it shall bring to me.

Beauteous Victory
February 15,2014

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Everyone Leaves / Everyone Grieves (Your Choice)      

Have you ever noticed this trend? 
It might be a drought or a war, 
Blows quick to strike and slow to mend, 
And even if I have a friend, 
Everyone leaves / everyone grieves. (your choice)              

Strangers tell me 'You seem so sad, '
Though sometimes I may find a door.
I know expectations are bad, 
But frequently I just feel had. 
Everyone leaves / everyone grieves. (your choice)              
.
It might be a dog or a cat, 
Acquaintances who are rich-poor, 
Married-single, tall-short, slim-fat, 
What experience tells me is that
Everyone leaves / everyone grieves. (your choice)              

It seems so sad every man dies, 
Still some seem to dare hope for more: 
Though I raise my eyes to the skies
The beauty around me just flies. 
Everyone leaves / everyone grieves. (your choice)      

Brian Johnston
February 2014

Poet's Notes:
This is a new form of poetry that Neethu Panicker, Beauteous Victory, and I are 
exploring, believing that different poets coming from different places can and should 
publish poems together under a new title which deepens the meaning of all their 
poems and links the poets together as well (as members of an emerging family of 
friends) . We are calling this (new to us at least) poetic form, 'Poems en Duo' though 
in fact here there are three of us. There could be the added benefit of bringing new 
visitors to each of our sites as well. Time will tell. But the real reason for this 
experiment is the blessing of different perspectives.


Long poem by David William Breidenthal | Details |

Haven't Forgotten You

Sipping in solitude inaudibly,
I feel left behind like an orphan child, 
Waiting for a stranger’s ride, 
I was left on the front steps of someone else’s house and I’m left to be
An introverted child, brokenhearted, but slightly has a wild side
It’s as silent as the grave 
I act as if nothing’s happening, 
But commotion is surrounding me 
As if I’m the ship, 
Caught in the middle of the wistful, reckless waters 
Train me to walk close behind you
I don’t want to feel…for you neither do I want to feel
This blasted bittersweet emotions, 
Making me weep with many tears of bleakness
Hopelessly, I walk the mercy road alone, 
Since no one’s willing to risk their lives for me..
What am I gonna do? Play the victim now? 
I’d rather travel on my own
I’d rather disown this feeling I feel – it’s so real, you see?
Do you hear me calling to you desperately?
I’m losing my direction – I need you, reliable emerald compass you!
 Who designed you so articulately? 
Who found an emerald stone this beautiful?
Who granted me luck tonight? Can it be?
Can it really be you? 
You haven’t forgotten me after all…
After all, I haven’t had a day without you racing through my mind
Now, you’re hidden gold – a fantastic, splendid find!
I thought I was blind…but your shine is making me blind!
I close my eyes in attempt to feel my way through darkness
I have found you…at the end of the tunnel…
I slip unto the sparkly pavement and we huddle 
Underneath the bridge and the traffic overhead
You kissed me with hope pressed on your lips, flawless as ever – 
I don’t feel dead with dread…I don’t feel like I’m…actually not losing my head!
When you leave my sight, the daylight dims
When you depart from the light, my heart feels unsettling whims
The river will keep on flowing as long as you postion me next to glistening sunset
The atmosphere is changing and the wind is whistling its sad, sad tunes of regret
I’m a stranger to love, but it seemed like love met my eyes and I fell in love
Love at first sight is on another level of brilliance 
Do tell me: are you an angel from up above?
Are you a tranquil, heavenly dove? 
I don’t want to pretend that you’re here when I’m proven wrong…
Are you real or are you a fantasy? 
This isn’t the end, so let me lend you a helping hand 
The world will merrily share with us its happiness
A happiness that was unknown to me…
life’s an everlasting, admirable song
It’s well-written from the start 
Keep spinning with me like a merry-go-round
If you refuse to do so, I’ll be left all alone in the abyss
I’ll be dancing with my lonely ghost of a mistress…
I’m seeking to be with you
For future progress and also because 
My heart has declared its love for you…
Didn’t you get the clue? 
Haven’t you known long ago? 
It’s a love, shimmering anew!
But, I gottah get a grip…
or we’ll never have the time of our lives forever,
You mend me like a wound on a soldier’s leg –
I’m unsure if you still love me, 
however, you encouraged me to endure…
You’re not a curse…if that’ll make you feel better, not worse!
Let me repeat that with a little more emphasis – you’re not at all a curse
You’re a dream come true, a gift, an oath, a bliss-healing cure!
There’s a way for us to escape our mighty fearsome fates
We’re on thin ice – do you mind if I hand you a pair of skates? 
Slipping and stumbling and falling on my bum, 
Happily blushing and brushing it aside for a time
I feel like you’ve chewed me up like distasteful gum
I know we had a good time tonight, 
but I want your night to be…well…sublime…
And let the time flip on like an ancient dime 
I haven’t forgotten you – I’ll pick you up from the grime of the past
It’s time to be partners in crime!
My passion towards you is so extremely vast 


Long Poems