Long Alexander the great Poems

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


Listen to the voice of the poet

Come on big men of the world
You that owe the power
You have already had much money
To move on soldiers
You have already had much gold
To feel stronger
You have already had luxury palaces
To live comfortably safer in
And fields, ground, soil, trees,
Rivers, lakes and seas.

You have taken in everything your eyes can see to the horizon.

But do you really believe that your power will last forever?

Don’t you remember Ramses the Third, 
Cyrus of Persia, 
Babylonian King Nebuchadnezzar
Alexander the Great, 
the emperor Augustus 
and all the kings of the past up to Napoleon?

You’re now inventing new richness made of nothing
You’re exploiting the soil under its surface
And even you’re searching for more in the universe
Still cheating the poor!

Listen to the voice of the poet men of power:
don’t never forget
for whom God created all the things of the world!


Thought

Start

If someone asked me, “A penny for your thought”
I’ll tell him, “Sorry! It can’t be bought”
The thought process runs like a train
Fed by emotions and nurtured by the brain

Said Swami Vivekananda, “Thoughts have made us what we are”
“Words are secondary, thoughts live and travel far”
Friedrich opines thoughts are the shadows of our feelings
Always darker, emptier, and simpler in all dealings

The quality of a leader is determined by his thought
Said Alexander the Great after the battles he fought
“It’s better to have an army of sheep led by a lion raising his battle cry
Than an army of lions led by a sheep that leaves everyone high and dry”  

It is believed that the power of thought is the path to discovery
Never underestimate it, or your dreams will be past recovery  
The soul of God pours into the world through the thoughts of human
And becomes dyed with its color that embodies his acumen

Bertrand Russell characterizes thought as subversive and revolutionary
Men in power fear it most as their style of functioning is perfunctory
Thought is indifferent to authority and defiant to the wisdom of the ages
It inculcates the sense of logic to the news around at all stages 

The quality of the thoughts decide the happiness in life
Reining of evil thoughts will prevent further strife
We’ve created a vicious world in which we are caught
To change the world we have to change our thought.

End
Form: Rhyme

Confidence

Dear guys, is confidence a personality trait?,                       
No it is a skill that can be acquired or cultivated,                   It is an inner knowledge that you are capable,                 
Believe in yourself and your abilities please,                       Our aim in life is not merely to live,                                       
 But we have to thrive success in our life,                           The success is determined by the confidence,             Believe confidence, you are half way to success,             With confidence we have won the race of life,                        If we have no confidence,we are twice defeated, Confidence skill may be learned or practised,             Nothing can be done without self- confidence,        Napoleon Bonaparte was exiled on St.Elba,                           It was impossible for him to escape from the island,            He believed his hope and self -confidence,                     Finally he escaped and ruled France for a hundred days, Alexander, the great had overconfidence in his life,            He wanted to establish a universal Kingdom,                     His technique was purely a self -help method,                    That taught us how to use our mind and body,                     Be like the Phoenix, an immortal bird,                                       It symbolises life life after the death,                                     We must have the ability to overcome impossibilities,   Arise, awoke and not stop till the goal is reached.
Form: Narrative

Hakim The Gatekeeper from Esagila

Hakim. The Gatekeeper from Esagila.

(A lone voice whispers)

In ancient Babylon, 

I once stood alone and mixed fire
Iron and clay 

All day 

Creating a spell
To entice my only light to come my way 

Sent merchandise of gold and silver

To her,
The Pythoness of Endor 
Hidden in dark woods

Over the deepest of rivers 

Bundles of finest fresh linens and purple silk 

To satisfy her and her ilk

Citron wood and every kind of object
I could ever find 

Made of white ivory and black marble 

Whenever I could
No matter the expense 

Incense sticks
And scented Egyptian
Candlesticks

Made of expensive Frankincense 

Delicious crates of red wine

Bamboo baskets filled with white flour and yellow wheat 

Fields of fat cattle and herds of baying sheep 

Priceless trained horses and golden inlaid chariots 

New slaves of broken souls

Lascivious ladies and ravenous men 
To do her bidding 

Even acts of depravity
Linked to the forbidden 

For the fruit of my soul
And to be joined to her again 

A bright light
I once saw 

On a seemingly endless night 

But in the year 323
When my leader
Alexander the Great 

At only 32
Died and was eternally set free 

In the opulent palace of Nebuchadnezzar 

She

The Lady of the Wild Woods
The Pythoness of Endor 

Cursed me to chase her
Forever 

The Queen
I once conjured by fire
Iron and clay 

So today
In the 21st century 
Her I still chase 

Since eternal life
Is now my only penitentiary 

My only great living version
Of Babylon of Old 

When I desired to sire 
A queen, I once met 

Dancing
The Raqs Sharqi 

So fiercely
That her raw beauty 
I can never forget 

Adorned in soft crimson and glittering purple linen 

Clad in silver

Wearing gold and shining diamond stone earrings 

Reborn into the likes of
Badiaa Masabni 

It's why I still chase her
If I could confess 

For underneath 

Beneath all things linked to trying to achieve immortal strength 

It's why now
To seek her out
Once more 

I always choose to break free 

From the external grip
Of The Valley of Death 

(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Form: Rhyme

Long Be His Journey To Death

" Long be his journey to death! ", someone hollered
as he dragged his feet into the rising dust hotter than sand;
only a defeated and tormented soul would have admitted
looking ahead," Much innocent blood I have shed! "


Gazing sterner than a warrior or merciless king,
he was fearless of what was prophesied by twilight
to him in a temple veiled in crimson and white...
although he claimed his usurped power with a ring. 


His  palace adorned with ionic, glittering columns
of pure gold stripped off Troy's temples...they were carved by the hands  
of slaves, but their phantoms pitifully stared at him begging for their return
to the sun-gilded murals so that they would breath once again. 


" Alexander the Great is coming from the North 
with a mighty army, even the stones make away
for his conquest as he holds up up his victorious sword...
let him in your city, open the gate and obey! "  


A few days passed, then the young conqueror appeared
wearing a shining, silver armor as he gloriously towered 
over fortified Athens, the city that later will be conquered by mighty Rome,
and resuming his gallop, he hailed," Long be his journey to death, let him roam! "


Immortality (Scenes From Above)

May you close your eyes in advance 
Before Lucifer captures your soul 
In our saviors final dance 
Alexander the Great 
Commander of the darkest fate
Sheathe all swords! 
What is it my lord
You have captured me at my weakest point 
I want what these dead seekers don't 
I see an empire, a nation 
Nothing higher than inflation 
I Julius Caesar hold freedom in a tear 
My hopes and dreams are what everyman fear
In the presence of tragedy 
You will love me 
In a tub of petals 
The gods will rub me
I am all but immortal 
See the shadows of jealousy 
And ever so often, I walk toward her 
Lust caught up in mislead trust 
Even holy sinners bite the dust
John Proctor’s Crucifixion 
A slain soldier’s prediction
So content with death 
That you wouldn't give a piece for what's left
When all realms are expired 
We come to a cease fire 
When the pictures fade and legends die 
Imagine if generals could cry 
Adore fate so rudely 
And leave as yours truly 
You shall remember me 
The curse of September, but let it be
May you close your eyes in advance 
Before Lucifer captures your soul 
In our saviors final dance

The Power of Love

Love is one of life's greatest mysteries
It is the driving force
which shapes man's destiny
It is the very foundation 
upon which life itself is built

Love leads 
life follows
Love is a way of life
One cannot detach oneself from Love
to make a decision
for Love is life itself

Throughout the ages
the power of Love 
has gripped the hearts of men
- mighty men who feared nothing
and made them powerless
to resist its spell

Kingdoms rose and fell
Armies laid others waste
and were laid waste by others
Men died in agony at the command
of a Love-infected leader 
Paris and Helen of Troy
in the Trojan war
Samson and Delilah
in the battle with the Philistines
Anthony and Cleopatra
in the Roman Civil War

Love is a potent force 
that sometimes makes fools
of Earth's mighty men of valour
And yet this same Love 
has been an instrument of good
with which nothing can compare

There are many kinds of love -
a man for his God
a man for his woman
a friend for his friend
a person for his kin
a man for his dog
- these and many more

Though the particular cases differ
the effect of Love is the same
- that feeling which inspires and drives men
to achieve things 
they once believed impossible

Many a knight fought great odds
and won for his lady
Many a man leaves his comfortable niche 
in society
and goes out to endure 
the hardship and pain
of the less fortunate
as he gives of himself unselfishly
to improve their state
because of his love for
his God, duty and ideals

History is filled with leaders
who tried to build 
and maintain an empire
with the might of brute force
and failed -
Charlemagne
Alexander The Great
Julius Caesar
Napoleon Bonaparte
Adolph Hitler

And yet
a humble carpenter of Nazareth
who shunned brute force
and violence
built an empire on Love
two thousand years ago 
and today it covers
the face of the earth

Premium Member Delusion of Grandeur

When manic, I feel, think, and speak like God:
     like Superman (or the world’s savior)!
The rush from feeling like a demi-god
     makes me believe I am a conqueror, 

like another Alexander the Great!
     So when I’m flung to the abyss of hell
when these erratic moods abruptly abate,
     I rapidly cycle so that I can't tell

the bottomless and profound lows that turn 
     these immortal, Olympian, speed-like highs
into abject spiritual dead-ends; I learn 
     that (as this disorder intensifies)

delusions of real grandeur soon grow tempting, 
especially when life feels not worth living.
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member I Am a Caulbearer

My mother told me years ago.
That I was a king by right.
I didn't really understand,
So I looked it up that night.
It turns out some famous people,
Napoleon, queen Christina and lord Byron,
Not forgetting Alexander the Great.
They were all born "with a veil"
All caulbearers with the hand of fate.
Sailors would pay lots of money
For a prized veil,for their lucky charm.
It was said,it would stop them from drowning,
Keeping them safe from harm.
My mother said I was born with a caul,
And good luck will give me a hand.
With some of the things that have happened in my life,
Now I understand.
Form: Rhyme

Alexander the Great

O what a man, so bold and brave,
Could do, his mighty hand could save.

This noble warrior was a relative of Zeus himself
Or so they say
His kingly proise remains today,
A standard figure of Persian frays.

Lightning crashed and thunder rumbled,
Signifying that this man would become well-known, 
Not one to be humbled.

He was said to have tamed a wild horse,
By the fullness of his brain, of course.

His athletic records, no one could break,
For they remained for his pride's sake.  

He became a briliant man, built like a tower of steel
That  led some to believe he was unreal.

One every man would have yearned to become, 
His power, his splendor, an unbeatable contendor!

Until only by a fatal error, his well of talents stopped flowing
For once in his life.
No one could save him from this horrendous plight.

The face of death reared its grotesque head,
And only to the path of enternal stillness it lead.

However, his name, emblazened by his noble deeds, very old,
Will retain its place in history in its priceless weight of gold.
Form: Epic

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