Gladiator Poems - Poems about Gladiator

Gladiator Games

The arena is built lie by lie, sobs by sobs.
Names don't matter.
A game is still a game,
called by any other name.

Children with ribs like shattered shields
do not volunteer; they are raised for slaughter.
They don't fight hungry lions, only eyes,
trained to devour without guilt.

The crowd appears with open mouths—
not for speech, but for swallowing.
They neither cheer

glib gladiator in Gladys Gladiolas

Glandular glib gladiator in Glady’s gladiolas?
glazing glassblowers gleaning gabbiness?
glistening, glittery, glitzy glop glimpsing gladiator?
globular glowworm gloriously gleaming in Glady’s gladiolas.

vicarious gladiator syndrome

The primeval feelings they court
Are thrills from kills as a cohort
The owners are betting
That this bloodletting
Attracts all to football as sport


Author's note: A celebrity commenter attributed the NFL's recent very high ratings and financial success to everything except the appeal of a violent game.  The Romans exploited this emotion long ago at the Colosseum.

Excavator Gave Him Navigator

That’s the job that gave him Navigator
After goodbye to Lift Operator;
Months on the TV as Moderator
And a US firms Gum Distributor…

But Bruce had not wanted Excavator,
Rather Peace-Keeping as Mediator:
“All these awkward passions for artifacts
And choosing to celebrate old facts:
Inquisitive shovels disturbing soil  
One might think one is prospecting for oil;
Forbears working on their forgotten

The Gladiator

Dust arises from the ground and swirls about his feet,
the squawk of battle leather echo's as he takes his seat.
"Away" another warrior dragged lifeless from the ground,
He drops his sword and wonders when his time will come around.
The muted cries, the bloodlust crowd forever in his ear,
He knows this song, replayed before, each day, each

Girl Gone Gladiator

She opens the DSM-5 to page 666,
Know Thyself,
who among us is not a Beast somehow,
she's enthralled by Imperfection,
It explains the scars on her heart,
if she believed in Perfection 
then she would need to accept her own nature
unequivocally,
she would have to love every part of herself,
poetry is her therapy 
building puzzles her bliss
solving puzzles her passion,
she

The Gladiator

He stood there, gritted teeth, sword aloft
one foot on the slain Gladiator
would they let him live
honour him with the platinum ring
a ring from that albino of metals

 or would they thrust him through
pierce the unbleached cotton shirt
turn the clean bone to blood red
the raised arm of the lady
the lady beside the emperor

that lily white arm,

Gladiator of G-O-E

With oil through veins and acrylic faces,
Gender neutrals lathe metallic domains,
Acquired specimen a challenge cases,
A depleted prior to what remains.

Well, so be it, he makes the claim, to be,
One of many quickens to martyrdom,
Legions fall prey, prays echoed, heard their plea,
Heartbeats to ironed chambers, undead realm.

Conquer beyond mind, vanquish beyond soul,
Embolden ones might and crush

Fall of the Sanguine Scion

He stood among the fervor and frenzy
of the mob there to greet him;
he gazed at the smiles that reached
all the way to their eyes.

That field susurrated a contented sigh,
sun glowing gold on the dust
as he made his anticipated return
to this his home, this his stage.

Each man who had e'er taken up the gauntlet
wore it only

The Gladiator

Outside the gladiator's window, outside in the growing gloom of night,

The nearby volcano is almost invisible, only smolders silently now.

Inside his room, he can almost tangibly feel the darkness gathering about him,

Can almost tangibly feel it surrounding him, suffocating him with renewed

Fear of what may befall him tomorrow in the arena.

As cold and oblivion press

Twilight Gladiator

Moral decay 
Night nurses prey or pay 
Dressed in white or gray 
Black and dark night fay 
Freezing hot they fey 
Heavy duty they lay 
Gone to make hay 
While sun slay

Gladiator

Locked in place on a high cross
Swords spoke the foreword
A quick glance at eternal peace
Combat defined his wounds

Only the pen of history
Penetrates his heavy armour
Behind his shield lies purgatory
At the height of an evil empire

Cracked dried lips to steel
Exposure to the kiss of death
Vanguard to a spiritual thirst
Glistening in the sun unsheathed

Doors open to unknown

The Gladiator

The Gladiator

Battered and worn out
he looks shaken, disheveled
from the endless fight

Standing tall and proud
the fighter still undefeated
looks at the audience

Taking in the sight
a sea of crowd watching awed
by his performance

in the arena
his skills in fighting tested
never disappoints

King's loyal subjects
cheered for him to win the fight
the fight of his life

for the king's pleasure
a ghastly entertainment
that celebrates

The Gladiator

Of my bed every morning out I jump
Ready for the fields of life to go
Armor, sword and spear in hand
Into survival’s arena myself I throw



© Demetrios Trifiatis
  10 SEPTEMBER 2014

Gladiator

Forged in my Creators mind
Birth with His purpose in mind

Shaped and fashioned in the
arena of life

Whatever comes out of hell's gate
I'm poised and ready to fight 

A gladiator did my Creator create
To die for His cause is my fate

Clothe in my armor
Sword in hand
Bred to fear no man

Yeah though I walk through the
Valley of shadows

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