Long Ancients Poems
Long Ancients Poems. Below are the most popular long Ancients by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ancients poems by poem length and keyword.
“The only light from a sword have sheltered me from despair
The balance of reality and dreams, welcomes nothing to compare
Dreams were afterall the insanity of one’s desire
Made to believe moments before the awakening hour
This belongs the true origin since the fall of the humans
The curse brought from our love to cause The Ancients total domination
Moments since loved, to love to then unlove
I give to you only truth afar from lies to serve”
{Years of yore, a time somewhence atween the Holy War
A prophecy is soon to begin its outcry once more
Humanities who were forged to serve the Battalion Goddess were dying away
Prayers in blood were dis-spirited souls praying to live another day
Yet despairs to the Heavens never seem to be heard
Where forth the Battalion Goddess, where is the Goddess of Word?
The Goddess who mortals seek hope in, bears one in many prophecies
The one to lead till the end of war, to rid the Ancients of miseries
However, the DarkLord Alkzadrius, only grew ever stronger each dusk
Every other night to those who live, only promises to be last
There was then this one night, in the ruins throughout The Ancients
A brightest of light shone from a seemingly farthest of distance
Two figures emerge from beyond, one a woman and another a man
And the very might of the moment itself, have had evil dissolving into the sands
Every other minions who came in their way were vanquish
Even spells and curses cast upon the terrain had discreetly vanish
Sensing victory for the night, mortals around raise their swords and fought
Yet the battle were already won at hearts without so much a thought!
It was raining a subtle when dawn finally arrive
That day, every mortal to witness the birth had survive
Humanities rejoice in triumph to the Champions of the lands
Peace being the one hope for all time, was only just a matter of when
The prophecy remains to be true… prayers were heard
Evermore so, mortals reunited to serve once more the Goddess of Word
Every battle were won, wherever the Champions of the Word were to walk
In time, they were feared by most every minions of the Darklord
Alkaiya, the name enchanted by the people for the mistress of War
Being the one who beholds the Bow of the Word hence fore
And the Knight of the Word who has without a bearing name
Who wield the Sword of Sin where evil is nay to remain}
An Aria Beyond A Silent Dream
Just yesterday, I was dreaming some love I’ll never have
And now I’m sitting all alone, smoking… this night
Some soul within that never was mine, seems to have left
Like falling stars crying so, fading upon its dying light
It was just like a dream, a dream which began it all
A fantasy I so thought, a reality now fought
The enigmatic world of The Ancients is the world I saw
Some place where life is only to belong to the rot
I was petrified from the sights of the ungodly world
And I fear even more shall come eventually my sleep
Betrayal portrays the poison mind from the green of an emerald
And I wonder if strength can still be drawn from hearts of the weak
Its been a while since, had the befallen and the defier appear
I’m lost and very much alone atween a portal through stolen time
Though the bond of a steel may assure the undead minions to fear
Yet dependency is a weakness without the drop of faith close behind
Be it so if I should sleep in reality, I’m awaken otherwise within
And upon awakening elsewhere, it isn’t simply a hallucinatory fantasy
And as once more, I walk the path beyond ancient’s dream
I saw a world lost upon where I stand alone, in complete solitary
{With the reality world shut away, despairing never fails to end
The darken haze aloof the skies were evidence of time bearing no when
Bodies in impossible millions lay lifeless as far as the eye can see
With the essence of blood weighing upon the breath of air so free
From where I stood, the battle before seems wearily over and forgotten
With my sword at hand, I was left mortified with delusions of the tragic moment
How is it, a glitter of hope can present itself from this nightmarish hell?
Yet I knew, extraordinary from ordinary isn’t just some words to praytell
I scan the bloodshed more intensely, knowing not what I may assume to find?
And I’m not alone… as something else was heard from behind
There was a voice, voicing sadness and sorrow in solemn aria
Singing perhaps to the heavens, yearning so to be heard from afar
I trail towards the tune and saw a figure standing atop a shadowy stone
Cloaked in an armour that at once suggested swiftness, as well a necklace of bones
And seen in her hand… she held a crypted bow
Where strap over her shoulder, was as well a quiver of arrows
(for: them who are ever there!)
these branches and roots
that cord to the grave ancients
should be free from man’s swords!
both oracle and priest held for days …
I
Your voice speaks in the silence of the night
To the deep still shady earth
That once held a great zest for our childhood
Here in the once thick wooded land
Where progenitors strewed their rustic huts
Yes! where, sang tho’ unseen those sonorous kin-spirits.
2
Ah! Happy and keen folks were the ancients, then;
But their sons? what a sad lot, now! even
Demented hearts aching from those drinks of dizzy times
Raw anguish, sorrow, painful hemlocks of death-lines,
The slow songs that tune softly to the mirthful graves
That still hold the ancestors like prisoners in the wild caves.
3
O! for your unravished wave of primal welcome,
That bade the sonorous weaver come
To make loud greeting of blue azure with song-fleet
O! for such uudecoded song that for the sagging flesh bear ointment
Secret balm from the rhyming unsteady palm leaves of the winds
That flute clearly to ancestors those eternal silent songs.
4
Known are those festal spirits of your night
From whom many lives readily spring forth:
Mused thru’ the voices of strong mortal compeers –
Priests, priestesses, praise-singers, warriors, dancers!
That with gusto, flounder across the space of time;
O, for those festal moments of flush! o, for the celestial clime!
5
You are the unseen bridge of the world,
Like Nturukpa, that elder amongst our ferry trees;
Your bark exhumes the bright colours of the past;
And carried thru’ the festal wings of your night
We desire to be mused to the ethereal clime;
Of uncurbed equanimity and euphoria of the divine.
6
I now know the anguish of these festal spirits
Who take refuge on the water-void banks
Of the topmost branches and leaves;
I now know the noise of their feasts in sacrifices:
Doleful sacrifices in the gods’ swollen foot!
Then adieu! adieu! from the cloyed humans in advent!
7
O farewell! with all your festal spirits,
Who coaxed to the night of sacrifices, priests,
Priestesses, dancers, praise-singers, warriors of the land;
Adieu! with these cold celebrations and coax-throated songs heard,
Thru’ the voice and echoes of rain’s thunder,
In the day of the panther and his noble twin, the hunter.
In my world nevertheless, these reasons compels me to be alone
For no one can even begin to comprehend to things of unknown
Whether a curse or a deliverance to befall upon me
I have not a choice, neither here nor there to ever be
And having lived an unpredictable life faithfully such as mine
I would redeem myself in The Ancients, as long I be given time
Therefore… with the future to unfold, I have resolved myself to serve
If not to ensave, death as penalty is an afterall I’m to deserve
Let us be on with our way, for the night is to be awaken soon
With luck, let there be light to guide us from beneath the moon”
{As I sheath my metal, I stood my ground and awaited for her
Awaiting… for perhaps a miracle which may yet draws near
This single hope stayed with me as I followed Alkaiya along
Finally knowing as well, this is indeed the world I belong
After what seem forever, we decidedly stop for a moment’s rest
An unfounded moment, for myself I’m unable to simply outlast
There were stones, darken rocks masking the wilderness around
The unsettling settles… as my time as always is to bound
Sitting in my bed once more, I am without quiet relief awoken
For return is but my recounted nightmare of what time beckons
Before my next entry to come, will perhaps be one even harder
As it is the last moment to recall, we have stumbled upon the Heaori Chamber}
In my world I am but a no one
A no one to everyone else who doesn’t believe
Given is another world I can run
Yet… its essentially hard to remain well receive
Little did I thought I have escaped it all
Little am I to know, my service to the Word retains
With many months ago since to ignore
A certainty is certainly less worthy for complains
Back into The Ancients I return once again
Back into hidden love, back into unfavourable dreams
How else if nothing else is to remain?
If not in my world but to have the other world bring
Time and again, the time of the unknown revisits
Always with a meaning deeper than before to believe
Time after time with my mind to battle and weep
Am I aged with enough faith to take another leap?
A chamber where dreams meet fate
Do I possess the strength to enter for dreams to come true?
Will I ever be regrettably too late?
To prevent the death of Alkaiya to be undoubtedly real
………………………………………………..
In recent years a amazing thing has happened to the number Thirteen,
Adding Friday, and the movies, Freddie Kruger has entered the Big Screen.
A silly guy with tights, entering dreams and prowls around at night.
Murdering, slashing, and it is a ridiculous sight.
Well in ancient times it wasn't always that way,
The number 13 was revered as a lucky number, a great day.
A calendar with 13 months, suns and moons were the norm here.
Thirteen months, not 12 was the calendar year.
It was considered lucky, and a blessed day,
Cleopatra was up for it all the way.
The ancients didn't hide or cringe at this day or think anything bad,
They celebrated with pomp and were not at all sad.
A lot of people have a misconception of the number thirteen.
Unlucky, like black cats is mentioned on our national scene.
People all around the world cringe when it's Friday the Thirteenth,
Some don't even leave their homes or work on this day, to me it's obscene.
Thirteen? Well I tell you it's just a number nothing else,
It happens just a few times a year, and should be ignored as unlucky for yourself.
The Lord has a way of laughing I bet at this utter nonsense,
How can a number be anything but that, it makes no sense.
Superstitious mumbo jumbo has taken over our daily lives,
As we let it scramble our moral thinking while humanity is trying to survive.
What is in this day that allows people to act so strange? To actually cringe,
As they let it confuse and disrupt our lives, a pretty strange thing.
Superstition is the devil's crafty invention, to confuse and create chaos,
to really confuse and get away from our Lord and Jesus.
When the Freddie Kruger's creeps into our conscious minds at night,
Allowing this day, the thirteenth, to become a social blight.
So pray that the Kruger's won't confuse your thoughts and let God lead the way,
Friday the thirteenth is a blessed and God given day.
The ancients had this number and they had a fun filled event,
l3 was lucky to them and laughing is how this day went.
Be thankful and count your blessings that the Lord has given us today,
Take the time to reflect and get down on your knees and pray.
That the devil will be put behind all of us Christians, and we should be thankful,
That our Creator is with us , we have no fear, and we are totally grateful.
The Defiance
I feel this night to be stolen from me
This endless night when I’m sitting lone
Day by day, the ever quest is ever harder to see
Of a life to belong never mine… to own
From several weeks ago to only seem too soon
Were my days a helpless stray into the arms of night!
From a dawning Sun to share sorrows alike till a dusking moon
Should there ever be a tranquility to shed a sympathy light?
As remembered, the life of Alkaiya hangs upon a thread
Whether alive it be or death be claimed, remains unknown
With a future unseen, my thoughts were unwritten to be read
And I yearn for the fruits of The Ancients be rapidly sown!
Let there be tranquility to will, of this I pray
No matter the endless nights of places searched in vain
With age, were dreams dreamt much lesser towards everyday!
Might The Askance be of aid to deliver me once again?
Have I forgotten my bearings, my place in the world?
Have I forgotten the belated me, from a once life I live?
Did I remember my dreams with portals welcoming in swirl?
Are there no more of mystic evidence to once more believe?
And I enclose my eyes, envisioning a once moment before
Endearing the fabrics of time woven with melodic aria
However much of information I’m to congregate I’ll recall
Anything and everything I’ll do in sacrifice for Alkaiya
{And as I open my eyes to believe what I’m to see
Alkiaya is in my arms in distance hopes never to be
Is it a dream, simply a dream and nothing more?
If I am to blink my eyes, is the moment nevermore to recall?
And with tears to relent to, I’m to see the truth as true
Of concerns ingrain to forever dispose to never again feel
It is at this moment I’m to know how much she is to mean
If not to love, neither to hold, be perhaps what love can bring
I guess as long she’s alive and by my side, there is nothing more to ask for
And should the day be known when together in love, may well be meant so much more
In the meantime, Twit the Sylvan is already rejoicing in joy
Regaining once again, his special magical ability to annoy
Sylvius isn’t anywhere unfortunately, to share this occasion
A wonder for a Fallen as the hopes of The Ancients is in assurance
However is the future to unfold, my heart has taken a leap
To be entwined with Alkaiya as evidently she wills to speak}
Unwashed but felt, my single to every a tear sunk with the rain
Is there no life of my own can I exchange for hers to remain?}
“Though your heart may be pitiful in nature
It is seen that strength exist in one’s heartfelt structure
The tragedy witnessed is indeed uncalled for and unkind
The wrath of the Leech-King has succeeded in breaking the chains of time
However one is to think the terrors it is capable to unleash
Isn’t to be as compared to the horrors the spawn leeches it release
One being underway to consume the life of the Mistress of War
Tasting the blood, licking the soul till finally of death to befall
Yet, death is only to be the beginning of her worst nightmare
The service to the void must she forever be in servitude to bare
Time is always against those who would seek the path of faith
Every turn is only to promise another tide of evil to wave
I speak solemnly in words for my powers isn’t harvested for healing
Neither is The Angel of Dreams capable of such cursed nurturing
The Word however, will have a way to alleviate this travesty
Yet, time isn’t to favour one’s path towards the ultimate destiny
Perhaps only a day or two remains before Alkaiya is to turn side
And to have one as Holy to abide to The Void… is as well to welcome eternal night
Be warned Knight of the Word, Alkaiya is one’s guide within The Ancients
Where one is to be lost, all is lost… and either will be banished from existence
There is still a providential way to prevail over this quandary
Though it isn’t to cure fully, it is however the unsurpassed remedy
There is a God, a fallen God alike The Befallen Angel of Dreams
A day’s walk to the Mount of Ecilia is where he resides therein
I am not to promise a conceivable outcome to foresee
I can only assure… this being the finest proposal to be
And one need not fear to be alone, for I will guide the way
If not to ensure for the lives of the Champions… remains to stay
Live and let live one’s destine life within The Ancients to be
Do not be troubled by an enigmatic outcome, one is unable to see
Our paths must we bear the burdens our tormented souls will lead
My once path directed to failure where you must now succeed
Let us be on our way to ascend the treacherous mountains upon
To be there, will one’s subsequent path be unraveled along…”
“Dwellers of the Ancients, is all be seeking The Fallen atop?
Well… be advised and turn back for to entertain he will not
It's been far too long since mortals have come before our sight
And above all, the coming of mortals is often the coming of blight
Yet, curious I am to see what wisdom does all sow to seek?
And mind me, is the outskirts to be still as unpromising and bleak?
Wait a leafy fall! Is that what I think the Amulet is what it is?
Is that really what I dare think to think what I really think IS?
And… The Sword of Sin, and The Bow of Azure and… and!
Oh my one and holy creator of trees and woods, the all-seer blends
I, Twit of the Sylvans have actually stumbled upon The Champions of Light
Me, the cleverest of all, the mightiest of both twilight and night!
The one who oversees and overrules the over-leaves and overall
The most knowledgeable, the most erudite and despite some say The MOST TALL…!
So, I’m Twit in my most humble nature to see to your needs
Your demands will Twit without question have them meet!
What’s it like being a Champion, The Knight of the Word?
Is the Mistress of The Word really ever once a berserker as of rumours heard?
Can the Mistress really heal with her bequeath powers? Though she
don’t look too well now!
Where is her overseer? The white owl that flies alongside around!
And The Defier, the one born just right after you died, remember?
You know, The Askance who ensave The Mistress from whence a berserker?
And of course, the Befallen Angel of Dreams who sacrifice for love
The one who now dwells in awaiting for you to return to serve?
What happened? After you died I mean... pardon Twit who say…
Where have you disappeared to all those time and to than return this day?
Its been more than a hundred years if my intelligent mind can remember precisely
And all this time to only be indulged in my duty given periods indefinitely
Pardon my nature Knight of The Word, have Twit asked much?
How would you like a Sylvan alongside to uplift as such?
Twit can serve in knowledge and in spirit despite being small
And in addition, Twit can assure all be welcomed into the Fallen’s ascendancy hall
So what do you say, Twit be one to join your quest in judiciary?
Indeed, yes?... yes it is… will you excuse me a peck and Twit be back in a jiffy”
Your faith for the greater good has cease its dawning
Self-loathing in one’s destiny isn’t to be for your path’s bidding
So much more must you endure, am you to fully understand
Death to every a soul is a must for sacrifice to justly apprehend
Compassion, pity and even love must you learn to dispel
For these only belong the emotions of the weak to welcome Hell
Heed the need of my words should one day your mortal heart be soften
To be manipulated easily would be from the cause of these depressions
Therefore, I give to you this amulet, marking your destiny
Seek its true wisdom and in war will all simply be tranquility
Though this battle may have separated you from Alkaiya
Your fate is bound in time to meet her once more from afar
Return now my Knight, into The Ancients and face your fate
To truly be The Knight of the Word, lies a lifetime more to await”
{From whence he awoke, the amulet then lies in his hands
Where of power he sees in the amulet, might he seek to lend?
Without Alkaiya’s healing ability, he struggled onto his feet
Traveling through a day without aid from no one to seek
Though of the amulet on his neck, it withdrew but nothing more
Not of knowledge either for his near dying soul to call for
Till finally, onto an ageless tree he encountered to stumble upon
And into a dreamless dream he can only surrender and slumber Along}
“It was several days after before I am finally to see the light
What of miracles to have assisted me through those quiet nights?
And a single feather there lay beside from where I awoke
A finest of feather to once more assure there exist still of hope
Decidedly, I am to remain a while longer upon this sacred ground
To recover perhaps the lost of faith and of tranquility to be found
By the waterfall is where Ei-rian found thy loathing soul
A broken destiny in disguise, to finally learn of each destine role
Remember well, Knight of the Word… the cause of disruption
Nothing is ever the real truth beyond a mortal’s reason
And as for the amulet you behold, is imbue of my spirit
Should my aid be required, you are simply to will it
Of lives lost and found, of souls broken within
May tranquility come to you beyond The Ancient’s dream”
An infinite door of midnight blue;
glowing peephole that is the moon.
Dare I look before turned to dust?
Yes, dear friend, I surely must.
In the midst, a city of finest gold,
large as the earth; immense and bold.
Quoins of pearl, this must be known,
the lusture seemed a life, it's own.
Rising from it, a mountainous temple;
whisps of prayers escape the steeple.
Without the city, fields of crystal flowers,
and trees more akin to wind chime towers.
Platinum trunks doning metalic leaves.
Angelic music when brushed with their wings.
Out from all this, layers of various planes
seemingly worlds of their own, yet all of the same.
Once starving children and homeless ones too,
with comforts of home; endless tables of food.
One plane of great sports, children running free;
prosthetics and wheelchairs, now trophies and glee.
Another, Indian braves running with buffalo,
women laughing carefree with children in tow.
Serene planes of beaches and tropical breezes.
On none was found pain, lameness or diseases.
Thousands of planes, but my favorite to view;
families and the ancients with no need of adieu.
So euphoric, this sight, but there is more to tell,
as three glorious chimes of the great temple bell.
All froze still as beams of golden light
transported them to the temple in quiet.
The most beautiful prayers and songs arose.
From within the city; pure love aglow.
Three bells again and all were beamed out;
some to the same planes, some different routes.
I wanted so badly, to open the door
and be in this place forever more,
but the door was locked and I had no key,
then an angel turned and flew towards me.
Approaching the peephole, that is the moon,
It said, "Don't worry, you'll be here soon."
I have need of a key, I began to implore,
and it slipped a note neath the midnight door.
I unfolded the note; three lines within,
and three nails fell out; payment of sin.
The first line proclaimed, the door was faith.
The second; the beams are God's loving grace.
Overcome by peace as I read the third line.
Jesus is the way, the truth and the light,
and I remembered a scripture that so sweetly states;
"For by grace, through faith, are ye saved."