Long 'adventure Poems

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


The Dark, Dark Room

The Halloween Party was in full swing
Witches, wizards and an alien thing
with tentacles and one huge eye
Flourishing a laser gun shouting "Die".

Alison and her friends Ada and Jo
Were all dressed as feline kittens "meow"
Carl and Simon had laced the fruit punch bowl
As the evening drew on it took it's tole.

Drunkenly a bet was stupidly placed
Who of them would last and not be outpaced
A nightly vigil at Haunted Creek
Where rode a phantom horseman, there to seek.

Everyone there all knew the awful tale
Making in unison a quick inhale
It was long ago in 1702
A mounted stallion there cast a shoe

The rider's name was Squire Abraham Knight
Was set upon and put up a good fight
He was then butchered for a gold doubloon
Was then thrown in the creek and found at noon

Unexplained sightings, that then disappear
have been recorded, it is very unclear
Warnings come from parents to their own child
No-one goes there, it is left to grow wild

With youthful bravado they all met there
Torches flashed around, as the trees stood bare
Alison and her friends huddled together
Shivering in the inclement weather

Bart and his brother camped down for the night
on a hillock, keeping the creek in sight
Joining them was the terror gang of four
Troublemakers, who all acted hardcore.

Two hours later it started to snow
Huge flakes falling and wind began to blow
"I've had enough of this" said Alison
"I'm all for going home. I'm all done!"

Eagerly agreeing, walked back in step
Suddenly Jo tripped up and in pain wept
"Can't go further, my ankle is wrecked"
Leaning on shoulders, onwards they all trekked.

"No, I can't, please, you must stop", poor Jo wailed
"It's agony! she gasped and then inhaled.
"Come on Jo, we can stop at Adam's place".
"We will make it there at a slower pace.

Adam's place was an old abandoned farm
"No, not there!" said Ada-May in alarm
"Afraid of ghosts and ghouls?" mocked Alison
"More like rats and spiders and not much fun!".

Giggling they arrived at old Adam's place
The moonlight showing fear on each girl's face
"We have to go in there, we have no choice"
Jo jumped. "Was that whinnying of a horse?"

On that retort they threw open the door
Stepping inside, they all dropped through the floor
Not one of them survived their dreadful doom
Trapped, without rescue, in the dark, dark room.............
Form: Rhyme


What Is Freedom

Tell me what does it mean to be free? 
I find myself not free but locked up in a creation that desires... creation! Freedom is not just to move beyond the walls of confinement. The walls of confinement are not just of mortar, brick, iron or wood. These walls that confine this creation are more than just walls of flesh. These walls are walls of idealism and ignorance. These walls are reinforced not by bone and marrow. But, these walls are reinforced by the unknown. For if it was known then the freedom of this creation would pass beyond the strings of entanglement and would fly to the greatest height and to the lowest depth. This creation would endeavor to dream and create. This creation would move freely from realm to realm and would be a part of the greatness that created it... 
The glass of images is just a mere reflection of creation. Images are reflected from the ice of hatred. Images are reflected from the heat of illusions. Images are created from pain, sorrow and defeat, and yet, images are created from victory. 
How the heart is smothered in the sorrow of defeat... Yet, the mind soars as if freedom is the energy that propels the heaviest soul. Tell me again, what is freedom? Adventure is the glow that shines from lucid eyes not hindered by life taught. 
Life taught? Walls are made from experience, from damage, from the hurt of another creation. A child. A new life. A beginning fresh and untouched by creation. Adventure seen through the eyes of a child... freedom from entanglement, freedom from illusion and images. 
The prison begins it's walls of confinement as each day becomes weeks and months. The walls become stronger and impenetrable as the years go by and turn quietly into decades. Hardening of the mortar brings a numbness that reaches beyond the tenderness of kindness. This hardening grows colder as the eyes no longer are lucid. There is no fear in this state of prison... Nothing can tear down these walls of confinement. Nothing! 
Yet a sparkle of remembrance goes unnoticed as a new life begins and thoughts of freedom start a crack in the walls of a hardened fortress. As a bubbling brook in spring cracks the ice of a cold winter, a heart begins once again to search for the freedom that will bring to life the adventure that no image of defeat or sorrow could ever again mire the soul...
Tell me... what is freedom?
Pernell Rodocker 8/19/13

Premium Member The Dreadful Mourn

I'm a Piketown son who left his mum
To sail the eastern shores
Spent a year in Gloucester
'mong the barkeeps and the whores

Then a man came 'round to Gloucester town
Said boys I need a few
Strapping lads such as yourselves
To join me whalin' crew

The pay is mighty lowly and
The work'll break yer backs
But if ye crave adventure, men
You'll ne'er get a better chance

Those who'd go out wi' me, lads
Prepare ta leave at dawn
There's a whaler at the dockside
She's called the Dreadful Mourn

Ho! Called I to Captain Frye 
My services you've bought 
I've traveled here from Piketown
To earn a tale heart'ly wrought

Aye, me lad then ye shall have
A yarn ta spin yer sons
So join me on the Dreadful Mourn
'Ere long's the risin' sun

I nodded Aye to Captain Frye
Then turned to swig my ale
When a man appeared beside me
And pulled up to the rail 

He shook his head and then he said 
His offer you should spurn
There was another Frye set out 
Yet ne'er did he return

This other Frye for he was kin 
Of the Captain now about
That fortune on their family frowns
Of that there is no doubt

I turned to the stranger, smiled
Said thank you for the warn
Then headed down the gangway 
Out to the Dreadful Mourn

For weeks on end I coiled the ropes 
Boiled the oil and pulled the line
Though it was grueling labor
I was feelin' pretty fine

But the winds they soon blew colder
And the ship began to slow
The Captain said don't worry men,
This is how the whales go

One day the ice so thickened that
The ship came to a stop
The Captain cried a wild whoop 
Boys I think I've found the spot! 

For 'twas about this latitude 
Where me brother's ship was lost
And now I've come ta bring him home 
No matter what the cost!

Sorry I lied ta ye lads 
I blame ye not for yer ire
Now calm ye selves, we've work ta do
Afore we can retire

Of course you know we would not go 
Along with his plan 
The crew decided mutiny 
Right down to the last man 

For Captain Frye's madness
We must pay an awful price
But he would join his brother
As a ghost beneath the ice

The ship was stuck, the stores near out
'Twas nothing left to do
'Cept sing a sailin' shanty 
And toast the Dreadful crew

So I took a final dram of rum,
Cursed the day that I was born
And lay down to my icy fate
Aboard the Dreadful Mourn

June 24, 2017
Form: Rhyme

Turning Anguish Part 1

5/21/11-5/22/11
I rule over the night
undaunted with all my might
I have time to spare all I can bare
Watching the hand chime 
tugging…pushing…shoving
through whirling toil
that feed the spoil
Perplexing strife
refusing to give up 
Power and torment 
 
We are too caught up in our own power
and ruling over each passing moment
each passing night…destroying the twin towers
 
Who’s doing all the blaming?
Who’s choosing our faults?

I’m tossed…shifting around with uncontrolled anguish 
Zipping…tripping over rambling bolts
spiraling into a mad house
Don’t enchant your intolerable voice
I see no love dwelling in this household
Do you seek for your power…
you insufferable traitor?

Seeking our upcoming doom
brewing strife in the heap of ruins
brewing strife while we still leave room
to obey and remain under power
You are assuming the worst 
father…mother…
rule over the passing anguish…circling around
stumbling around…not aware 
Hey you! play fair

Behave and stay awhile
before you feed the fire that holds sheer vile
Allow love to not be thrown away
into another pile

I grasp no love engrained 
In our giving garden
that plants ceaseless approval  
Pardon my faults
I was far from comforting sleep

Dread is driven mysteriously 
Through an endless night
Moving on the tracks 
Forming into an alarming train

Who’s doing all the blaming?
Who’s choosing our faults?
Who did the labor suitably?

worthwhile father…pleasure-seeking mother
Don’t enchant your intolerable voices
and expect us to listen sensibly 
Demanding us to do labor
and assist our displeased neighbor
Why do you melt the delight away?
Throwing away a flavor of ecstasy
and put us to glove-less labor
without putting our favor and opinion
into the overlooked pile

Burning agony
dries the buried glee
Saved for a grieving moment
Playing like a warped tune… unable to express
solitude that develops in the heart
raped by the ragged uncertainties 
without taking heed of our pleas

These desirable moments
Cherished in the deplorable journey 
They weren’t acknowledged by power
Love in those days were brand new
Do you have a clue?
they were cherished...
Bountiful…
stranded in a deserted past
in merciful beauty…caught under the spell

Where did that come to pass?
Where’s the love?
Who’s doing all the blaming?
Who’s choosing our faults?

Knowing You Knowing Me

We've known each other for  a while now 
I think its fair to say 
I haven't met anyone like you 
not ever, not to this day
  
when our eyes really first met 
something inside me began to stir 
I was unsure what to make of it 
so I shrugged it off without a care 
 
weeks have passed by, our conversations keep flowing 
like raindrops from above, the topics have no warning.  
The more that we explore,  the greater my yearn 
to travel the footprints of thought 
that leave tracks across your mind. 
  
time flies fast, its almost a blur 
we've know each other over a year now 
and you have become a mama.  
I've never seen you so happy 
a miracle from above, I am sure.. 
I love how your eyes are smiling 
This is a picture I adore.

it was at this point, when I looked into your eyes 
that what bothered me before came back to life  
the stirring within came out of the blue 
it was then I realised it was fuelled by you. 
still unsure what it was within 
I just looked up and gave you a grin 
  
Its 2 in the morning,  I should be asleep 
each time I close my eyes, its you I see. 
For a second there is blackness,  and everything is sound 
then from nowhere,  your face is found  
  
My arms reach out, to hold you tight 
to hold you close throughout the night 
but like before,  you were not there 
so this again, I'm hugging air! 
  
Finally,  my brain gives up and sleeps 
but still you find me in my dreams 
but in my dreams your there with me 
so this is now the place to be. 
  
its time to wake up, I feel exhausted 
my brain feels fried, there was no off switch.  
All throughout the night, you and I danced away 
under the moonlight, with the stars on display 
upon cloud tops,  high in the sky 
where angels sit to watch you and I 
  
Sorrow was what it took, for me to realise 
what love was, and how it thrives 
where it starts, how it feels 
how it hurts,  but how it thrills.. 
  
I feel like I could fly, this stuff is better than Red Bull 
I've never been so high, the feeling is astronomical 
and to think the reason why,  I feel so invincible 
Is because I looked into your eyes 
and was touched by your soul.. 

  
I leave it to fate, to decide what will be, 
to see if theres a future for you and me. 
You are one of a kind, you are my friend.  
I've never met anyone like you.. 
I dont think I will again!
Form:


Premium Member Sweetwaters Music Festival

Far off the beaten track and trail
        on quest for music’s Holy Grail
led pilgrims on biblical scale 
         more than can be counted.
With midsummer sun on our cheek
in tents to shelter we did seek
and pitched them at its highest peak
                 on a hilltop mounted

As we climbed the lean of the hill
my beer I would try not to spill
and sat with the great unwashed till
                           olé and adios.
It was I, El Skeet, amigo,
           in my poncho and sombrero 
half-cut like a loco gringo
        who waved “vaya con dios!”

We lit yet another hash bong
 all up in smoke like Cheech & Chong
and passed it to each one along
                 under the cop radars.
Till late as wasted brain cells flag
 with every mind trip headfu-ck drag 
I tucked in to my sleeping bag
         on the hill ‘neath the stars

As music and mayhem did rage
back in next summer’s youthful age
we camped closer to the big stage
                  by a shallow hollow.
I’d sit and watch the crowds go by
      in the hot sun and dust and dry 
under a big Waikato sky
       from our camp on tent row

And as I ripped in with the guys
          to our grog trailer of supplies
we made a hanging chain of ties
             with every pull tab rent.
Waiting for Cold Chisel that night
      with a superdoob glowing bright
I was fuc-kin’ high as a kite
      and lurched back to my tent

The next day I woke in a daze
and walked off my drunken malaise
when I heard singing songs of praise
         in some weird sh-it I saw.
Tambourine hippies, punks and geeks
and chanting Hari Krishna freaks
  burnt incense in clay painted cheeks
          so I got high some more

Yet in a hot wet and wild hour
            stoned in the unisex shower
I gazed many a sweet flower
          in their naked splendour.
We bathed too in waters that flowed
down where the lazy river bowed
lest my head spontaneous explode
          on my three day bender

That night by the stars we were led
as above a smoky sky bled
when out The Enz rocked “I See Red”
          and fired a burning flare.
In the spirit of Sweetwaters
     we lived among at close quarters
sons of Bacchus and his daughters
            and I so revelled there


    Written: November 2009


Sweetwaters was an annual three
 day music festival back in 1980s.
Form: Rhyme

Welcome To the World of This Certain King

"Bring Me Wine,Myrrh and My Sweetheart Daughter Anabella,
My Little Anabella Loves To Listen To The Voice Of Salome,Her Lyre and Her 
Happy Serenade..
Tell My Scribes To Be Fast About Compiling The Exploits Of Their King In His 
Last Battle Campaign..What Is a King Without An Updated Chronicle..
Send In My Little Prince For His Voice As He Reads Through His Texts Of 
Poetry..Lures The King His Father To a Closer Salient Walk With The gods..
Tell The War Generals To Give Me A detailed Brief of Our Next Campaign.."

At Morn..
"Send In The Finest Of Thy Young Warriors..So I can Test My Stealth In The Very 
Face Of Battle and Danger...
What Have Young Men Turned Themselves into..So Lazy,Wanton and Unmanly..
Off My Sight Before I Seek Thy Skulls This Very Instant..
(In Privacy With The Head Warrior)..Oh! Sarskaas Your Young Boys Are one of the 
Best in The Region My Training Sessions Are Truelly Refreshing..Tell this not to 
them Lest you build the Fruits of Pride and Treachery in their Young Minds..
Do Usher in My Seductive Belles to Show Off Their Waists in Acts of 
Poetry,Dance and Linguistic Body Embellishments..."

At Noon..
"You The Dreaded Most Notorious KING Of the Valley..A Demi god,Invincible and 
Indestructible..As I Speak Kiss The Sole Of My Feet and eat this dish of Camel 
Dung mixed with fine desert sand..
Ax-Man when he finishes his dessert Bring me his Head on My 'Royal Golden 
Skull-Dish'..
Usher in the Wise Men of the South..For I want to converse with them in this 
same spirit of Saliency..
Stuff the roast Calf portions with a lot of herbs and Spices..You well know its the 
Obsession of the Men from The south.."

At Sundown..
"Usher in the different contingents of Musicians to Entertain my Salient Guests...
Wrap My 'Lotus Fumes' Quickly so I can Smoke this Life's Troubles Aways..And 
See Through the One Eye of the gods in Solemnity and Blissful Thinkings,
Head Eunuch Do Send A Servant to The Harem..He Should Tell My Queens to 
get A-Ready For Their Lord is in Good Shape for Royal Rumbles and More..
Oh! My Faithful Knights your War plans were excellent..Go Now Enjoy and Excite 
your souls as much..Retain your honour and have the War at the Back Of your 
Minds..
Depart In Peace..Many A-Waists in The Harem are Restless.. 
I go in to Satisfy My Very Own.."
Welcome Again To The World Of That Certain King..
Form: Ballad

Superman

STANZA ONE
He had the heart of a lion
And the strength of a bear
Ripping his enemies apart
He would crush and tear
Man of steel
With charm and grace
No one can dare confront him
Or look at his face
He is all over the world
And all over the place
He stands on the silver clouds
And drift through the winds
The colour of his skin matters less
As long as he is bless
By God
Samson! David or my Mohammed Ali
Roosevelt or Lincoln
Whatever name you may be
Oh! Superman
He has come to rescue us from harm
I love the way he looks
His carriage and charm
You remind of Horatio Nelson
The way you fight with one arm
And he looks above the horizon like a demigod
His composure was calm and undisturbed
Oh! Superman
Messenger of God
He prays hard to the Almighty and serves the Lord
Oh Superman!
The strongest man I have ever seen
A man  a thousand men can not win
He had the strength of Samson 
And the wisdom of Solomon
He is the king of us all
But he will not acknowledge
that title
Firm like Stalin
When it is time to take a decision
Never look back
Takes no permission
The true hero of the revolution
Was Leon Trosky
Washington of our time
Deliver us from the Great Evil
No matter where it may be
Oh Superman! Oh Superman! Oh Superman!
He lives in me
I am determine to sacrifice my life 
For the sake others
So that all men will be free
And stand for the rights of men
Where ever they may be
I will seek them in the lions den
And send evil doers to the past
With one blast
And that will be their last

STANZA TWO
He had the heart of a lion
And the strength of a bear
Ripping his enemies apart
He would crush and tear
Man of steel
With charm and grace
No one can dare confront him
Or look into at his face
Samson! David or my Mohammed Ali
Roosevelt or Lincoln
Whatever name you may be
Oh! Superman
When he was born an old witch 
Saw a prophecy
That a king is coming soon
Because the Moon was still shining even at afternoon
And the sun was still sleeping in his lazy crib
To live a promising life of adventure
Little did his parents know 
That he was a man as a child 
Before he would grow
And his glory would glow
Like the Alpha Centauri
Oh Superman!
From dusk to dawn
He lays awake
And would take 
Any challenge that comes his way
And would live his life like every other day
And he would live his life for the sake of others
Defender of justice and freedom
Thinks like an old sage
Because he has wisdom
Form: Epic

The Morning Soars With Skylarks Singing Repost

The morning soars with skylarks singing
o'er the greening meadow and the pliant pasture,
the ocean sighing, gulls aloft on wings of prayer.
A sudden shower would see me running
fancy free between the rain drops,
I cried 'Excelsior!' and set the hills alive;
I skittered, happy, crisp and clear, 
like God's first measure of a holy hymn.

The air alive with songs of praise, 
the gentle winds a sacred message,
His grand prescription like a dream
that streamed out from the pillows of the heavens.
I liked to wander by the sea shore
skipping stones, disobeying laws of gravity,
as a lamb on shaky legs and tumbled freely without care,
'til gasping, I would stop to catch my breath.

The halcyon days of youth came true,
when I would race forever 'neath the tawny sun,
bedaubed in Autumn's blood, the flame
a blend of hues the likes of which 
would make a young boy doubly blind,
and lead him into kingdoms where the battlefields
would blister scarlet, happy times
that made me see my childhood clearly.

The weather turned again, and shanties
high atop the hillside loomed like castles drifting
in the sea-blown mist, the noise of boats,
their nets pulled, nudging at the jetty.
From the sand the village was a hazy spectre,
the chapel steeple peeking like Rapunzel's lair,
her hair a daydream falling soft,
O fanciful imagination!

I thought to when my mother took my hand. 
We skipped the cobblestones and shopped for wishes,
toys which we could ill-afford;
a Batman cape, a red fire engine.
The lanes were thick with merchants and the joy of life,
haggling, chattering like crazy seabirds,
loud, and mouthing their wants and wares,
and then we wandered home exhausted.

I never lost my youthfulness, 
my joy at seeing herons gloating, eagles floating
high on zephyr'd breezes free as spring;
hallowed times, in Jesus' presence.
I measure now my moments as the hours shift by,
thirty years and blissful, regrets are slight and few,
I count my blessings, feel content
that tribulation never came to bother me.

A birthday cake is waiting for me,
candles flicker, frosting beckons, hope eternal;
my wish the same, for peace on earth
to all men, greetings and goodwill!
I lie down in the close and holy quiet 
while the village sleeps, and slips toward a new adventure,
safe in His keeping, perfect day
with promise of a bright tomorrow.
Form: Verse

Mosque Cowed Covenant I Keep Putin Off

Mosque cowed covenant I keep Putin off...

and withheld broadcasting
the following communication
tucked away these many years,
when president number forty five
donned, jump/kick started, and tweeted
thru his musky, albeit flabby mantle,
a rallying cry forewarning onset of Mag(m)a
bubbling, gurgling, lobbing, and spewing lava
against backdrop of his trumpeting vitriolic
political preservation, salvation,
and veneration, though with hold

ding temptation tomb mike -
(make) pence sieve lee clear,
the immoral majority mold
toot hoods, (those bajillion
Americans unanimously polled)
did want me to broadcast, communicate,
and declare, sans incendiary fold
drawl (folderol) feigning migrant accent,
(no matter I'm getting older than Methuselah),
nonetheless Ivana trumpet from Taj Mahal

straight to Mar-A-Lago) all told,
plus thank Republicans
(past or present), who extolled,
an invisible grandiose fire walled
barricade (donning, enclosing,
and fortifying) against Carl mauled
din lookalike hackers,
despite one sporting "FAKE"
hook nosed, hunchbacked
adorned, donned with (Turin) shawled,

shrouded, and disguised vagrant, indigent,
double chinned agent - bald
(except for being bewigged),
viz flowing locks of "FAKE" gold
in toe with Amazon heavily funded
unbridled trailing retinue
chanting appellation Matthew
Scott Harris alias Oswald),
no matter said faux
renegade twittering lobbyists

to flock (like lemmings) within his fold,
and will laughably petrify
any vigilantes dead cold,
what with his bugs
bunny eyed (What's up Doc)
intent reader rabbit stare,
that doth playfully scold
any Bare Ladies scantily
linkedin, NOT nsync
with netiquette politesse mold

gobbledygook communication, (asper
my pork chopped message
higglety pigglety divulged)
obeying tacit gold
din rule to hoodwink public, nonetheless
lemme exemplify, how I plan to hold
world web electronically hostage
by secret Ransomware sold,
thru dark wide whirled web
cryptocurrency bitcoin blockchain trolled
under auspices, sans

omnipotent NON GMO
gluten free CRISPR rolled
oat sized INTEL nanobots,
no bigger than mold
spores heavily monitoring
meant to fortify electronic threads
woven into a virtual tapestry
likened to Dickensian chain e-mail
intent to foment pandemonium
at expense to captcha totalitarianism,
whereby democracy imperiled.
Form: Rhyme

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