Long Army Poems
Long Army Poems. Below are the most popular long Army by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Army poems by poem length and keyword.
“Brave men rejoice in adversity, just as brave soldiers triumph in war.”
A warm hand salute to each brave soldier
Who courageously fights in each battle
Willingly waging sweet life to conquer
Our precious freedom, the land’s wealth-mantle
You’re great angel saving homes and nations
Noble hero, making our fears dwindle
God-sent warrior with a valiant soul
With gifts... worthy beyond admiration
And your strength is our life’s brightest candle
While your faithful will-power leaves foe’s fall.
A deep gratitude to each brave army
For highborn mission, leaves a family
Enduring the pains of great sacrifice
A medal of valor seems can’t suffice
You offer your life for all your brethren
With unparalleled love, help and kindness
You work hard, sunshine or rain at war zones
Your enormous pillar is in heaven
You’re a wolf guarding us with readiness
Under the moonlight with your blest weapons
Great appreciation dear warrior
Soldier or army at battlefield’s core
We owe you freedom, peace and victory
Without you, nations stay in misery
An honor for soldier in some ways too
Such as oppression-fighter and others
Each unwavering spreader of God’s words
Doing all the best for His love so true
To those who fight for good are God’s soldiers
They're protected-- strength is from the Lord
May 29, 2020 3:16pm
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2 Timothy 2:3-4
3 Thou therefore endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ. 4 No man that warreth entangleth himself with the affairs of this life; that he may please him who hath chosen him to be a soldier.
In the odyssey of days that mercilessly run like grains of sand,
An unseen battle is foretold that we shall wage in the shadow.
The war within our hearts, a citadel besieged by falling stars,
Where every collapse exacts from the spirit a tribute, a drop of molten gold.
Beneath the vault, the cosmic architect with thoughts of crystal,
Arranges untouched paradises, but our hands prefer to dawdle in the hourglass,
Battling with the hope that deep down longs to burst into hyacinths,
Teach us, O experience, to offer instead of an army, a choir of chosen voice.
The spell of fears is the garment we don, fling it through the wind!
Even titans carved in stone feel the shiver of lurking fears.
Each lemon seed become a tree, the hope that raises its branches to hanging gardens,
Where the seed of goodness rises to the heavens, to bind remnants of fairies in tender whispers.
Refuse yourself, O being, to lay treaties of war upon paper,
When in your palms you might hold the core of reconciliation, the sketch of a beginning.
Behold how illusions take root in your eyes, that gilded in the sun dance vividly,
Horizons drawn in skies, where stretches a greenhouse of blossoming souls, a chord of love.
It's the battlefield and the sacred hearth, a struggle of good against the very self,
Shields of silver carved in seafoam, inlaid with pearls of love.
Pawns of spirit in the cosmic game, where the queen is compassion,
And the king, a generous spirit, takes his throne in the vastness of the universe, bearer of untamed light.
Thus, with each turn of fate, in the weave of time, we embroider new destinies,
Where the spell of fear is undone, and in the chaos of the night grow fields of stars,
Thousands of lanterns, guiding man's steps to the fountains of ageless love.
In this magical tableau, we take the most sacred war, to be human, and melt it under rays of peace in guitar strings' song.
Some fried chicken and fried potatoes,
pot full of beans, and sliced tomatoes.
I hear catfish sizzling in hot oil,
and some fresh picked corn waiting to boil.
Old folks sit at the big oak table,
kids sit down wherever they’re able.
There’s fresh churned butter and sweet cornbread,
enough food to keep an army fed.
After supper and the dishes done,
we head on outside to start the fun.
Children chasing the fireflies and bugs,
men drinking some shine from old stone jugs.
Making ice cream by turning the churn,
each little kid waiting for their turn.
Old folks rocking in their rocking chairs,
kids sitting around on the porch stairs.
Well daddy plays a mean guitar beat,
you wanna get up and move your feet.
Then he’ll softly strum on that six string.
while grandma and momma start to sing.
Grandpa’s up and he’s raring to go,
stomping his feet and giving a show.
Dancing line forms over on the right,
can’t beat another Saturday night.
After the kids have been put to bed,
moonshine still filling the old folk’s head.
They sit back telling tales of back when,
and wishing they could be young again.
Me and you’ll sneak down to the creek bank,
listen to Waylon, Willie, and Hank.
We’ll lay on our backs and watch the stars,
talking of how we’ll make this world ours.
We’ll snuggle under the full lit moon,
and let nature play its gentle tune.
Everything is gonna feel all right,
when you come over Saturday night.
Connie was a cheerleader
bright white toothed smile
bouncing boobs
short skirt legs running long
through school boy fantasies
friday nights her stage
crisp November air her makeup
Robert was a loner
a stoner
bad clear down to the core
shriveled up inside
Salvation Army furniture
Batman comics
bologna sandwich supper
Connie was manicured lawns
gardens of flowers
white picket fences and stone pathways
Norman Rockwell dinners
lavender bath soap
silk pajamas
pink bed spread
Robert was a rundown trailer
on a filthy back lot
goddamn you f*****g punk
get the hell out morning breakfast
garage sale coffee table
stacked with beer cans and ash trays
overflowing with death
Connie had a secret
hidden touches
fatherly lust
make up hiding
violent bruises
don't tell your mother
if you want her safe
I can hurt her too
Robert had a secret
18 hour days
two jobs at garages
straight A's
never give up
never give in
blue eyes and crooked smile
whispering to the world to kiss his ass
Connie was the sharp
razor's edge that gleamed
like the holy grail
in her bathroom drawer
Robert was the strong will
the hard desire
the drive to move on
to something more
Connie was a cheerleader
Robert was not a quarterback
but they were each other's
Salvation
Galvanised Atmospheric Innovation
Urban atmospheric galvanised creatures
Turbans that are stratospheric turning into teachers
Burdens that are esoteric and one of my personality features
Certainty that is generic as you’re hiding from the preacher
Stacks of written words surrounding me like an army of white confessions
Hacks that have been heard among pleas reaching for heaven
The exact and the absurd combine to form an episode of regression
Detract from the conserved and you’ll find a place in the recession
Renegade observers of the globalised extortion
Serenade reserves of the nobalised contortions
Parade of preservers combine to culminate a fortune
Charade of community creates a new social contortion
Wondering through terrain reserved for someone more emotionally robust
Pondering on ethics, integrity, morals, hope and trust
Sundering onward without knowing that your dependent on the physical laws of thrust
Plundering the earth with greed, deception, fame and lust
Multi dimensional landscapes that defy 6D comprehension
Conventional borders that correlate around the suppressed retention
Intentional reasons to confiscate the technology from the children
Presentational permeation that deny the attempts at prevention
Recollection brings a firm debate of colourised convention
Predilection for one to consummate the end of their detention
Introspection sometimes obfuscates the clarity of invention
While circumspection can just eviscerate the purity of one’s intentions
The End
Do you live your life in denial
through a maze of endless trials?
Is your life spiritually discreet
or under a dark cloud of deceit?
Are you truly free
living as God wants you to be
the truth you must now see
as lies are for the spiritually weak
So remove that dark shroud
Praise the Lord and stand proud
as an earthly enlistee
In the Lord God's army
too many are wearing facades
thinking they can fool God
but God controls all you see
even your destiny.
So are you truly free ?
living as God wants you to be
the truth you must now seek
As lies are for the spiritually weak
so remove that dark shroud
Praise the Lord and stand proud
as an earthly enlistee
in the Lord God's army
there're principalities seen and unseen
trying to manipulate everything
forces of evil that will intercede
and attempt to sow unrighteous seeds.
Yes, we're in a war over lost soul
Now's the time to stand up to be proud and be bold
the truth, you must now seek
As lies are for the spiritually weak
so remove that dark Shroud.
Praise the Lord and stand proud
as an earthly enlistee
in the Lord God's army.
So are you truly free
Living as God wants you to be?
With the ability to step out on faith.
Cloaked in God's mercy and Grace
Yes. We're in a battle over our souls
Irs time to stand up and to live bold
To live your life truly free
As the Lord God wants you to be
Duty Honor Code their duty has always been paid
They fight for our freedom so don’t ever let their memory fade
They battle for the righteous cause and sometimes end up dead
They endure hardships we cannot understand so recognize the blood they’ve shed
They’re the men and women of the military Navy Air force Marines and Army
This Memorial Day give thanks or remember a vet who has fought for our country
They conqueror their fear and go into harms way for people who are oppressed or are
suffering from neglect
And all they are asking for from us is a little acknowledgement and common decent respect
They’re the men and women of the military: Navy, Air Force , Marines, and Army
This Memorial Day give thanks or remember a vet who has fought for our country
They’re the men and women of the military Navy Air force Marines and Army
This Memorial Day give thanks or remember a vet who has fought for our country
So fly your flags with pride and wear your Red, White, and Blue
But always think to yourself they are out there right now somewhere fighting for me and you
They give everything that they have just for the sake of freedom’s price
So reflect on what they’ve done for us with there ultimate sacrifice
They’re the men and women of the military Navy Air force Marines and Army
This Memorial Day give thanks or remember a vet who has fought for our country
Banking on inherited memories rejuvenates me.
As and when I remember the memories
That me and my people long to cherish
And those me and my people despise to relish
To remember not as memoirs
But as inerasable scars.
The nation, the geography, the war, the leaders
The language, the temples, the forts and those statues, and the ethnicity
Then comes an innate xenophobia
That declares me and my people as more equal than others;
And others do live in History’s mischief,
Bloodshed as part of the living
And for the living of me and my people,
And the making of the histories
That I and my people have today
As glorious moments of the past for the present
But for those who produced this wicked ‘hero’
That is unexplainable.
The unforgettable’s enigmatic inexplicable
And this makes me feel the heroic deeds
And the unheroic moments as great periods
And people who built that fort and this temple.
I only consume History.
Producer of History
Learning from the past bloopers
I reconstruct the future through THIS present.
And those present here.
There is NO present as such
For humans live in past glories
And memories that are painful
To think about the future
And the prospective futures
Those (are) perceived either in fear or in hyper ambitions.
The past seems to me
A mere wars-the wars fought
For a feudal by a feudal
Or those slaves-(Both physical and social).
Those kings and their courtesans
The numerous wives and those concubines
The titles and the moribund army.
The modern PROMOTERS of democracy
Yet the common man was ‘there’
But not living.
I exterminate all the above
Including the democracy,
The dictatorship of the preliterate,
The religious kingdom, the Islamic republic.
Egalitarian society for all- the inclusive growth
I will have equality
Where people are equal
In all but something giving room for those
Like I who would like to produce
History- future history.
I produce History
Not for History’s sake
For myself – my sake.
Pocket-Memories
by Odin Roark
Layers of love are never lost
Even after a good bath
How long had it been?
A mantle of dust
A bit of sand
Some fish oil residue
“gives special character”
He used to say
So many days now past
Magnifying ants
Imagined horror stints
Trimming a yolk branch
For slingshot accuracy
Screwdriving Erector Set connections
Gutting deep-lake spinner catches
Leather punching favorite belts
Ah the looking back
Now like new once more
Everything tucked back in
Servitude getting momentary rest
As a hand-me-down’s rebirth
Awaits new challenges
It’s peaceful under here
Dark and warm
Haven’t been this clean forever
Kind of eerie
Like narrow canyons awaiting sunrise
Loved being cocooned back in my box
Wrapped in red and white
Yellow ribboned for giving
All set to surprise
Soon
His grandson’s pocket-memories will begin
As that’s what Swiss Army Knives are for…
Passing to the next
What makes growing up never ending
I signed a contract with the state
to use my body as they will.
My mind they did manipulate.
In the name of freedom, I would kill.
I never questioned right or wrong.
Obeyed all orders without thought.
I strove to be Army strong.
My loyalty and heart were bought.
The flag I served flew overhead.
My uniform bespoke my pride.
A true soldier born and bred,
I marched on while others died.
As time went on, before my eyes,
I saw a different point of view.
I prayed to God my soul baptize,
wash clean my sins, be born anew.
I threw down my master's glove.
I left the life of blood and sword.
My orders still come from above,
but now I serve the Lord.
July 5, 2015