Long martial Poems

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


Premium Member Mantis - Celestial Madonna

Let me introduce myself
The Marvel-ous Mantis - Celestial Madonna.
And what sort of person is she? You may ask.
Hopefully one you will honour.

But let her share a secret.
It helps her to think and act deeply.
I speak to myself in third person
It helps her navigate my world and relations you see.

When you read about me
I'm a confident, assertive martial artist.
My greatest power is empathy
My psychic abilities are the smartest.

Mantis even communicates with plants
And I can manipulate through telepathy.
But she wants to clarify that she only 
Employs for the greater good such super capability. 

But what I fail to understand 
Is why there's a change
In how I'm perceived
When I'm on film. It is strange!

It's as though this Madonna
Loses her assertion, becomes naive
Added to this, socially awkward!
Who would believe?

Yet a leaven like confidence
Starts gradually developing.
Though she knows it exists within her
Her silent screams for it keep beckoning!

All the same, my heroinship 
Remains a constant, ever true.
I am caring, empathetic and loyal.
The very qualities that matter to you.

A sudden revelation to her own conundrum...
Her difference read and filmed, she offers why.
Could it be that Mantis, Madonna, yes I
Am simply a little camera shy?
Form: Rhyme


Bruce Lee

(A Tribute in Dream and Shadow)

I was not there when death closed your eyes,
But I saw you on the great screen of the world.
In dreamland, twice you walked toward me—
your steps were not of flesh,
but of spirit dressed in fire.

The first time I beheld Enter the Dragon,
I knew you were not merely a man—
your body held the intelligence of a cat,
your soul the wisdom of the king cobra.
You did not fight with fists—
you fought with silence, with spirit, with eternity.

Small like a mustard seed,
yet within you raged an entire forest.
Through deep discipline,
you studied the temple of the body,
and from that temple you reshaped the world.

You broke chains of cinema and race,
tore down the walls of stereotype,
and raised the banner of martial truth—
not for Asia alone, but for mankind entire.

In the dreamland you teach me still:
Do not bow to rankings,
Do not chase the vanity of belts,
Select what is useful, discard what is not—
for wisdom is found in the gathering of waters,
not in the stillness of a single pond.

“Be like water,” you whisper through the night,
And I, your student, bow my head and say Osu.

For you have shown us—
That adaptability is survival,
That self-mastery is freedom,
That discipline is the road to citizenship of the world.

O Sensei Bruce,
The camera could not contain you,
Death could not silence you,
Time could not erase you.

You are not gone.
You are the eternal echo
in every strike,
every film,
every dream where you rise again.

Premium Member I Am the Power of Iron Fist

I’m the pair of fists belonging to Danny Rand’s identity 
Along the ranks of Marvel’s super hero-integrity…	
“Iron Fist” is my label against cowardice-instability
Powered to advance justice verity
Making my owner an incredible fighter, so mighty
Being a master of K'un-Lun's martial arts with brave superiority.

Having providing my handler a living weapon of excellent utility
I won over the dragon, Shou-Lao for victorious majesty…
Plunging into the fiery substance toward firm capability
I’m harnessed to channel chi energy’s responsibility
Toward amplified force, sans breakability
Willing to fight terrors of cruelty.

Here am I, helping my possessor for heroic functionality
Immune to pain and injury along hurt’s sensitivity
Always ready to rescue for the sake of good humanity
By healing others with my glowing powerful formidability…
Yet, in reality, I admit my non-existence in the eyes of GOD Almighty*.
Who deserves thanks, praises, glory and exaltation for HIS Sovereignty. 

*1Timothy 1:17 Now unto the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honour and glory for ever and ever. Amen.

February 8, 2023
1st place, "Marvel Superhero or Supervillain" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Robert James Liguori; judged on 2/20/2023.
Form: Monorhyme

Premium Member Ancient Nursery Rhymes

I’ve heard it said . . . our future is in peril and deadly danger
Those close to us are listening, to the whispers of a stranger
The Word of God lies hidden, in the depths of cold despair
Lying buried under lies and hate
Deceit hangs in the air!


I’ve heard it said . . . that bankers are a privatised cartel
Hold monopoly on our futures, past and present times as well
Write the policies of the World, through corrupted CEO’s
But we’ve been down that road before
That’s just the way it goes!


I’ve heard it said . . . A President elect, is what is needed
A parasite or paedophile, twisted jokers unimpeded
Both hands are drawn, unholy as voters standing vexed
Voters drenched in cold abandon
As zombies standing hexed


I’ve heard it said . . . pandemics are caused by EMR
Evidence of 200 years lends proof they do so far
From recent Star wars project days, Musks satellites laid low
To Bob the Duck and Quantam Baby
Radar and radio


I’ve heard it said . . . New Babylon is surely on the cards
A collusion of musicians, choose to play the Devils bards
Bloodcurdling revelations, sacrificial lambs to savour
Iniquitous borne melodies
To trade for Satans favour


I’ve heard it said . . . RFID’s the only chip we’ll need
A Beastly brand of ownership, to mark the Devils seed
The cadence upon the wind Lord, as it rolls
Unknowing next for whom
The Bell it Tolls


I’ve heard it said . . . our leaders calling out for martial Law
Agenda 30’s rapid rise to being, without a flaw
Shadow governments pulling strings on all our borders
Screams of Angels drowned beneath
Our New World Orders


I’ve heard it said . . . the authors of the codes aren’t flying blind
Re-splicing of Mans D.N.A is foremost in their minds
A pocket full of posies, all fall down
Culling virus’s prevail
As we slowly drown


I’ve heard it said . . . our prayers alone are the only comforts left
Our souls He’s dealt a losing hand, the Lords love stands bereft
Armageddon’s on the horizon, End of Times
Our future in the making reeks
Of ancient nursery rhymes
Form: Rhyme

The World Cup Saga

Brasil 2014, mortals in 
plants character, 
playing the role of the 
river and her famous 
tides. 

The pretty plants and 
flowers of her great 
amazon forest. Tuned 
step by step along 
the famous Ball dance. 

Twisting along 
acrobats of the long 
lasting martial art. 

Cherubic 64 kids in the 
wine of the soccer 
ballet.

 3 great singers,2 
stunning angel voice 
gracing the ears of 
*****sapiens 
gathered like the 
sands on the shores 
of river brasil. 

That was at the 
stadium. Around our 
spherical globe teens 
and olds squeeze in 
rooms, halls straining 
eyes to watch the 
happening. All in the 
world cup saga.


Art

i'm supposed to be
a man of words
absurdly called
a poet

i believe the old lines
in rhyme are
i'm a poet but
don't know it

hoping that that is
public domain
so please don't
sue me

but I find myself which
is usually hard to
do but i did and
i was looking

through the dictionary
i don't need to
say "a" dictionary
because "the"

dictionary is the
bible meaning
book and so
is that other

one with Old and New
with Methuselah and
Jesus and his
twelve buddies

but I digress trying to
digest words to
describe her so
i randomly

opened and flipped
first finding heel 
and toe which
is a good one

but then flipped to
find vertex and
then briney
but not

exactly how i would
describe her so
doing a stupid
thing i thought

i can play a melody and
sing harmony but
what would be
her key

and the pitch would have
to equal the quality
of her laugh if
that's not

enough so i looked at
other arts such
as culinary but
sometimes

she is saucy and spicy
but others she's
sweet and like
a fine wine

full bodied and yet
never dry so
then i tried
martial 

arts and still couldn't find
her even in poetic
movements of
tai chi

so i went through all
of the arts which
basically is
everything

even the art of dying
then i realized
with pen in
hand had

been doodling all this
time so looked
at the paper
and found

not an emoji so still
hard to define
her but i had
drawn

a smile
with big
eyes of
wonderment
Form:

667 The 2nd Period of the Independent Era of Philippine History: Marcos Regime

667.

The 2nd Period of the Independent Era of Philippine History:

Marcos Regime



The only Philippine President elected for another term

Ferdinand Marcos' grip to power was ostensibly firm

But the 2nd & 3rd terms of his presidency

Was engulfed with civil unrest & leftist insurgency



In the so-called “First Quarter Storm”, thousands protested

Separatist groups, MNLF & CPP-NPA, were founded

There was a bombing in the rally of the opposition

High government officials encountered attempts of assassination



The fruit of such anarchy was the Martial law declaration

To save the republic and address the threats of insurrection

Marcos imposed an “iron hand” over the entire nation

There were massive reforms like the new Constitution


Grand edifices were erected like the Manila Planetarium & the PICC

Built were widespread housings, schools, hospitals, roads, bridges & the LRT

Despite these vast projects & accomplishments for our country

The yellows treated Marcos as our nation's enemy



This is the 2nd Period of Independent Era – Marcos Regime

The longest rule by a Filipino President from glory to grim

3 terms of great achievements & gruesome resentments

God taught the Filipinos a good lesson for our next presidents.



-05/28/2019

*Periods on the Eras of the Philippine History
Form: Rhyme

The Courts Martial

A tableau of brass sits with serious intent;
A Court it is of the martial bent.
And before it I stand stiff with pride,
I did my duty with nothing to hide.

My men they were , my very kind,
Hardened soldiers, the best you can find,
More than brothers of same mothers born,
Out of war's dirty entrails were we torn.

The dust of battle was scarcely settled,
By the enemy's ambush we were sorely nettled.
Then suddenly appeared a mother and son,
In my sniper scope they appeared as one.

How  unnatural was the scene to my trained eye,
One small mistake , my  comrades would die.
My heart did flutter, my finger did twitch,
I spied through the scope a dead-man's switch.

The seconds ticked by, they would be within range,
My mind clicked shut, I felt something strange.
I let out two shots, the bullets went true,
We were then evac-ed, myself and my crew.

The brass at the desk in sanctimony asked,
Tell me, my worthy, with what were you tasked?
Can you justify, the death of a child
Of his mother, or did you run wild?

I was tasked to do my duty, which I did well,
I put aside my emotions, I went through my hell;
For the life of my brothers is worth more than their wage,
And war asks no creed, no gender, no age.

Men, we are, victory and survival is our goal,
You may condemn me, the Lord will commend my soul.


~13 Jun 2016~
Form: Rhyme

Parody of a Soldier

Eagerly joining the nation's martial order,
Becoming Uncle Sam's itinerant boarder,
Pledging to defend my country's border,
Against foreign malice and internal disorder.

Callously disregarding my own personal ambition,
Carelessly abandoning familial bonds and social position,
Caustically enlisting in the my country's latest inquisition,
Cheerfully pledging to defend abstract values without condition.

Forthrightly conditioned to to obey without recourse,
Instantly melded into mindless, fraternal force,
A provisioned robot, a designated national resource,
Vetted to die for patriotic cause without slightest remorse.

Subjugated to the imperial dictums of state,
Compensated a minimal wage for perilous fate,
Commissioned to fight amorphous foes without face,
Trained to annihilate belligerents without trace.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Panic At the Food Bank

When Cowardice and Sloth shook hands,
their deal produced a special breed 
of thief whose basic low-risk plans
to victimize the ones in need
required no smarts and little speed.

This slacker wouldn’t keep a job.
He’d rather steal than work one day.
He had no conscience; he would rob
an elder of retirement pay
or steal from gardens on his way.

He knew the food bank down the street
had more than food because he’d seen
folks donate cash. Also, some sweet
old ladies ran the place. Some green
he’d gain, for who would intervene?

He donned a mask and swaggered in.
A white-haired lady said, “Hello,
what would you like?” His wicked grin
was followed by, “The CASH! You know,
I’ve got a gun. Girls, don’t be slow!”

Then panic set in—his, not theirs.
They had black belts in martial arts.
“HaYAH!”—They came at him in pairs
and showed him how they treat upstarts
with thieving hands and wicked hearts.


August 10, 2021  
entered in the Panic at the Food Bank Contest  
            received NA August 22, 2021


August 25, 2021
entered in the August 2021 NA's Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance LaFrance

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