Long Arsenals Poems
Long Arsenals Poems. Below are the most popular long Arsenals by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Arsenals poems by poem length and keyword.
Glory of Nation
It is not the prestigious high buildings and monuments,
Where the Glory of a nation lives.
It is not the glittering roads and hanging long bridges,
It is not the beautiful parks, garden and lakes,
It is not the high mountain peaks, fields and plains,
It is not the green forests and beautiful rivers,
It is not the treasure of gold, diamonds and uranium,
It is also not the huge army, arsenals, space ships and atomic weapons,
Where the Glory of a nation lives
It lives only in the mind and hearts of its free citizens,
Where love for one’s Nation is a pride of one’s possession,
Where money has not become, the ultimate goal of living,
And Greed has not made a hole, in the hearts of its citizens,
Where one feels happy and ever ready to make sacrifices,
For the cause of it's Nation.
There my friend, there only, you can witness and see,
The Glory of a Nation burning like a light,
In the hearts of every citizen,
But it gets dim and diminishes one day,
Where its people want to celebrate, its one time glory only.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 10th Feb. 2010
[email protected]
Seventeen minutes to midnight - the world enters a new era,
nuclear arsenals reduce as peace creeps ever nearer.
Fourteen minutes to midnight - our hopes begin to fade,
as we discover no new world order, just the powder keg we've made.
Twelve minutes to midnight - there's tests on bombs non stop,
we need to sign a peace treaty to end this agitprop.
Ten minutes to midnight - Eastern Europe leaves the block,
shattering communism, the world stares back in shock.
Nine minutes to midnight - nuclear armament gathers pace,
nation challenging nation to win the world arms race.
Seven minutes to midnight - we're officially nucleoholic,
each missile's the last one, each threat of peace symbolic.
Five minutes to midnight - global warming walks on stage,
ironically nuclear power will usher in the world's new age.
Three minutes to midnight - world tensions are renewed,
disarmament grinds to a halt as superpowers obtrude.
Two and a half minutes to midnight - fake news is on the rise,
with fabricated statements, politically calculated lies.
Only two minutes to midnight - the whole world's breath is bated,
the doomsayer counting down, a holocaust long awaited.
In those two cold minutes to midnight - doomsday's knell is ringing,
announcing Armageddon, not the end but its beginning.
19th Feb 2018
A story having origins in Greek Mythology
dealt with a mortal woman having curiosity.
To avenge Prometheus for his wrongful theft of fire,
the gods sent a strange box for Pandora to acquire.
The box displayed instructions not to open it at all;
but she ignored the words, and it led to mankind’s downfall!
Burgeoning nuclear arsenals of many nations
present a myriad of possible situations.
If used impetuously by belligerent factions,
terrible scenarios would result from their actions.
Wantonly deployed without the use of circumspection,
employment of weapons out of mutual aggression,
it would propel us into serious retrogression.
The chain reaction begins with just one detonation.
Consequences would result in global devastation.
A serious setback for modern civilization!
Chaos will permeate our worldwide living arrangement;
everything we know in insurmountable derangement.
By suppressing nearly every amenity for all,
our society would appear being ephemeral.
Seeing the aftermath would be overwhelming for me;
ubiquitous destruction following a World War Three.
I would be thinking to myself while viewing the huge loss:
Did our Great Lord and Savior die for nothing on the cross?
Be careful not to open another “Pandora’s Box“.
Because the weapons of World War four will be sticks and rocks.
You do whatever necessary to change us
To shape us to become the person You want us to be
You can put us through tests
Through trials, adversities, unwanted disappointments
Through thoughts, feelings, senses
Everything is at your arsenals
To accomplish what are needed for the good of us
Sometimes we understand it
And sometimes we question Your take
We wonder, puzzle, challenge
Everything that is beyond our understanding
But are we supposed to understand God?
Yours are incomprehensible, impossible, incredible
Unbelievable, unarguable, unexplainable
What You want will be done
What You will will take place
There is no around about it
It will come
You are amazing
And You do wondrous things
We can’t understand it
But it will take shape like a grandiose puzzle
With things fall into their own places
We can’t help it
But marvel at Your undertaking
Your hands upon all of us
Your will for mankind
It’s all in You
Intricate, delicate, complicate
You are in charge of all
There is nothing we do
That You are not involved in
God we give it to You
You are so Holy God
So worthy, so incredibly wonderful
That we can’t seem to find a word
To describe You
You are
EVERYTHING
And we love You
Thank you Lord
Even though we don’t understand it
We will trust in You
Age's bloodiest showdown looms,
Or such it seems by its lurid form;
Spirit's sharpest arrows must fly
Swifter than is their agile-witted norm.
Now Armageddon's most savage sword
Cruelest aim of softest landings takes,
Though target's dexterous fightback
Its most foolproof arsenals stakes.
Thus unfolds time's deadliest flare
Under high heaven's beneficences;
Watching on with an eye dimly fair,
Umpiring blows with arcane mien.
And though its yet baffling to tell
What dismal odds in virtue's favor stand,
Eons of war-waging jurisprudence repel
Smiling wins for Gaol's tempestuous fates.
Pumping and pushing with bloated gusto
In different styles and shapes they have come, as before
Each emerging through unresolved processes as planned
Piled up arsenals deployed like there is no tomorrow
All chanting in deafening croak to distract the people
Brandishing ill wealth, in brave impunity
Even State funds must serve personal ego now
Crushing the same masses whose votes count
One day, that must come, even in Naija
An irony, never imagined from a people so very blessed
Luring us the people with spoils from war against the same us
Our rights serve as gifts for the high and mighty
Alas we the masses will match to vote as ever
Hoping for once that our voices be heard
Yet the counts seem concluded, in endless night meetings
Times conducive for an arbiter to meet a contender
The umpire could already be in bed with a candidate
They have promised on their mothers’ graves which they defy daily
They have pretended to supplicate in unsolicited acts of humility
On us confusion rests, while the press and churches launder the vampires
On us the fangs will be unleashed when the power rests
Who will bid the highest for Awka Government House?
The time is almost up and all that can be bought have been bought
Those without a price are left confused, waiting for Godot
The power of words can never be overestimated.
They bring us up, pull us down, embrace us, hurt us, cause us to instantly laugh or cry.
Wars have been fought over them, families have been destroyed by words.
Lovers have separated, never to be reunited after the wrong ones were used in anger or haste.
Words have caused heart ache, misunderstandings, and lifelong feuds.
They have more power in the mouths of parents than any other weapon in their arsenal.
Words are often relived and re-felt over and over for a person’s entire lifetime.
People need to stop and think at least a second or two before using them, and certainly
Look them over several times, before they publish them.
Words can uplift people, make them feel glad they know you, but they
Can also devastate and destroy a person, making them feel sad, put down.
Like bullets, words can never be fully taken back, never totally forgotten or forgiven.
Once they are out there, whether in a sound wave, or on paper, they represent you.
Be careful, my friends. A reputation is with you for a long time,
and some people are not good at giving second chances.
Words, the most powerful of arsenals.
“Bring back our girls”: a silent whisper now the global anthem,
Re-echoing the opposing bells to our corrupt system
Is this the prospect sought-after by our patriotic gem?
Nigeria! Listen to the loud tears of your future stem,
Give joy to daughter-hood; salvage them.
But wait! Bombing at first now abducting,
And our tomorrow, they take liberty in destroying:
Creeping into our streets with arsenals uninviting;
Kai! Things are falling apart swiftly, as a mountain erupting.
Oh! Once upon a time in Chibok
Unraveling the serene puzzles gazing from our books;
Reading and playing to pass examination’s hook
Girls in tender uniforms with big dreams,
Insuring their future on the seedbed of academic teams,
Rain-date indeed! Absent from our schemes;
Little wonder you were abducted; as in Nollywood films,
Shai! Where is God in this scenario? It seems.
Mask by Adejola Joseph
Mask
Where does it come from?
What?
Delusive rationality!
Are we out of mind?
Senses drained and dried?
No!
What do you capitalized on?
Neutral ambition?
Stop writhing in pain
It halts not the rod
Good ambition...lofty ideas
But...sees no sun
Because it's all masked!
It's all choked...
Brutally masked;
Dreamer ponders
Where do we go?
So much confusionist now on this solidity and compound mass!
Pitifully roaming the streets and cities
Beautiful faces all over the place
But... what?
Check the hearts
Wounded and scarred!
Why?
Because all aspiration and lofty dreams are masked!
My God! Oh! Oh! My God!
I see importation and exportation of internal emotions!
Gaunt flesh and long faces!
I am still fidgeting...
Shaking profusely
Pity- I pity them
Pathetic - I found them
Helpless - I see them
Trillions of hopeless "breathy" with enchanting unrealistic dreams!
Battalions of revolutionist with insufficient or non existent arsenals
They are tired!
Yes!
Weary!
Yes!
Loathsome!
Yes!
Intolerant!
Little touch streaming burst
I will slap you if you touch me.. reaction!
Who will help?
Under whose auspices
Would they find lingering hope?
Weak and frail
Fragile and suicidal!
Apocalypse is on the roof
Because all effort to freedom is masked
Mask I see despite the wailing
Struggles I see despite plenty
Moaning I see in the midst of profuse pleasure
Tainted hopes and unaided hands I see despite plenty
Irascible and copiously irking I am underwhelmingly soaked
My strength is sapped
I am little detailed on how to make a map of liberty
Fussed and confused I am
Perturbed and broken I am because all effort to come off the tunnel is... masked.
An immortal time traveler,
I visit placid planets and shining stars
across the inter-stellar space
in the timeless continuum.
I’ve visited many times in disguise
the unique blue planet,
thriving with vibrant earthly life.
There, in the distant past eons ago,
I cherished the flow of geniality air.
On its affable wings
I could freely fly like a bird
across the span of the azure sky
to the horizon of lilting lands,
soar alongside of the floating flock
in the warm space of conviviality.
It was the chromatic time then,
when in the vibes of vibgyor dawn,
tinged by the spectral sunbeam,
I could see the friendly throng
in the breeze-braced plateau,
singing together the spring song
of unrestrained intimacy.
In my final visit now,
I see the shadow of lurking desolation
creep menacingly close unhindered,
turning the earth’s corners into cages.
The confined spirits plunging in lone abysses
stagnate within gripping isolation.
Intolerance weaves threads of hatred
in the fabric of the scary times.
Innocent blood is shed in madness,
fanaticism spreads like wild fire.
Life is splintered by the lancet of chaos
into disposable debris uncared.
In the psychic grip of insolent stress
the fostered relationships crash.
Before the world order collapses
I ardently wish the times change.
The war-tanks become pianos,
guns transform into harmonic flutes,
deadly arsenals turn harps,
mercenaries become violins.
They all perform the symphony
of peace and universal brotherhood.
Before the hourglass breaks,
let the essence of times change.
The thorns of contempt turn into flowers,
cactus of hatred changes to olive branch.
Let the crooked minds morph into alchemists,
make golden strands from rusted fence wire
that will create the garlands,
intertwine the humankind with love.