Long Assailant Poems
Long Assailant Poems. Below are the most popular long Assailant by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Assailant poems by poem length and keyword.
World, beware of the turmoil to come, don't be caught in your hiding
succumbing to erratic fear, oppress all shivers and face the vile assailant
with a defying glance, then bite him...be that hornet with a venomous sting
to end his brutality: he came to destabilize your land to achieve conquest!
Never comply, disregard a concept that spreads chaos and ignores justice,
come forward warriors and defeat with valor the blood-thirsty and the mad;
your fight is for an honorable cause: you're the hornets that are eager to bite,
and poison the enemy with your venom that's very painful when injected!
Don't wait until the threat becomes real, use your instincts and do prevail,
these godless and lawless men ferociously attack whoever despises them;
when we stir up their anger, they can be more vicious than hungry lions that maul:
they come forward and speak evil, their intent is to spread global mayhem!
I rather make peace than fight, revel in my freedom and shake hands with others:
If I must fight to preserve my liberties, I will indeed: I'll be a hornet fearless of bees!
mistakenly me...
I was walking down the street minding my own business
It was near dusk it was getting dark walking across the line onto the sidewalk
I was by chance inquiring in my inquisitiveness wondering what the siren was What was the business?
As one police car railed by me
I imagined and thought what if they were looking for me
And then suddenly and my peripheral vision I did see
Heading toward me police officer rallied saying halt as he approaches me
Mistakenly me
Following his loud boisterous instructions as he tells me to get on my knees
By the time I get down and get there he already has me my hands in the air
He cuffs me, seemingly unfair read my Miranda rights in 4 seconds it seems
I was told this is suspicion the suspect matched my description
We were both African American medium brown with black curly hair?
But alas the suspect was six foot three, well I'm only just 5 foot 6
The suspect was skinny unlike me with a media muscular built
Mistakenly me
Seem not to matters to them though all I needed was one of color or you see
The assailant had lied accuser had lied to save herself from an alibi
Just because I was close to matching I was placed without compassion inside
a jail cell
Guilty until proven innocent how is incarcerated being a look alike mistakenly me
Until my trial date my freedom is inadequate
Stopped question handcuffed UT and in prison...
This is how that night I was someone losing my freedom
Freedom to nothing to somebody I am mistakenly me
Now proven innocent released and forgiven
freedom to nothing to something, I've been exonerated forgiven;
Mistakenly me
3/22/19
Freedom to Nothing to Something Poetry Contest
Sponsored by : Delilah Ventura
Buddy was the youngest and bravest of soldiers,
he left Richmond Hill and his adolescent dreams;
on European battlefields he fought and earned
valor in Argonne and dominated the combat with gallantry:
he was the boldest one, pushing forward and gaining ground,
never bared defeat in front of an assailant enemy!
Buddy was the most brazen of all and tried to hide his tears,
he saw too many bodies fall in the clashing, blasting harbor
and on barren hills: he was undefeatable with a tactic so clever;
he instilled battle trance in each fearful and unwilling soldier:
did those shouts of encouragement earn him ample honor?
He buried many of his comrades without white tombstones!
The Buddy statue stands out for its elegant style
and insightful awareness, and while kids play
around it, they look up in awe and admire
this young hero who wasn't an ordinary doughboy;
I have seen hoards of people stand before it and honor
him for his valiance as he feels sorrow for his comrade...
gazing down at the small cross that he put on his grave:
Buddy died for an ideal so precious, but fate wasn't fair!
.
LizPiggo began gobbling up the bodies of the four Cartel members. "What"! Her newly aware look at her comrades, questioned in a somewhat hurt and astonished manner, their judgmental attitudes. "We have to get rid of the evidence!" She whipped out a bottle of Uncle Ray's barbecue sauce and a salt and pepper combo shaker,
some Country Crock (churn style),
a napkin wrapped utensil set, a kids pool plastic makeshift toilet, (which she was going to hand to Shroomer, because he was full of hot air, but remembered he was now an assailant/fugitive in their circle), instead she french kissed Rosie Odonut and said, "if you blow up this beach and get your lips warmed up I will split the last two with you", while winking. When she fashioned her table cloth bib in place (so she wouldn't stain her beautiful Sunday dress) she was rock em sock em-and ready to go.
Gus shook his head and began pairing everyone up in teams...Then, WailersWitch walked in...
Form:
Born a lover, man of valor and strength
Admiration of women, eyes in length
Head of the valiant
Power acquired from assailant
Might relinquished at hand
Born to conquer by hand
From the sword lives the strong
Bold and louder than a gong
Name etched on stones to lead
Fame carved on skins to bleed
Highlander is the warrior
Half-man and half-sorcerer
Skilled to live and conquer
Fated to last like a meteor
Hundreds of years he has lived
Real or myth, not short-lived
To kill is to survive with dolor
To die is to live with honor
Villains of various characters
Attempted to deceive as praters
Enemies wearing tatters
Bearing signs and symbols of partners
Charlatans in images of beasts
Or allies of antagonist that feasts
No one has yet silenced
Voice of protagonist in valence
The name remains the same
Under a curse he lived without shame
Redemption for every kill on his list
Contrition and pains in his whist
Gorged with uncontrollable dreams
Scourge of endless reams
Hands of stone that's blown
Heart of own that groan
Immortality is the prize of existence
Mortality as the wager of penitence
Sword is a sign of the Cross
A token of torments embossed
Balance of justice he lived for
Weights of toils he'll die for
Hero or heel, he asked
Brewed or screwed, he basked
A King in his right to live
A slave in his sight to give
Blood in his own vein that whines
Soul in a body that grinds
Highlander is the title coined
Man of justice in his cry conjoined
Love in his heart will stand tall
Over heroism or barbarism of the fall
Love will prevail in the heart of the Highlander
Destined to outlast, not falter
There can only be one...
Consciousness seeps,
the air moves.
Quickly reach!
Break forth from your tomb.
Visability blurred as my head swoons.
Instincts react! Frozen in place my eyes roam.
What was that?! I am not alone.
Instincts react! Quickly I'm gone.
Hidden in back. Allowing my senses to hone.
My vision now intact. I search the unknown.
Momentarily my sanity cracks. Unbelievable what I'm shown.
Spiderlings scurrying I'm taken aback. As the big One grips a door-like throne.
Where am I at? This isn't my home.
Quickly taking stock of the shell that now houses my existence.
The panic grows instead of lessens.
For now I realize I am a spider curse or blessing.
Adaptation is survival I start assessing.
Eight strong, stocky yet creepy legs.
A body and thankfully not two heads.
Two eyes in the center, three on the right, three on the left.
I open my mouth to speak and feel a fangs sharp edge.
A sinister emotion emerges from the deep.
Realizing with these I shall kill and eat.
The shock is gone as I quickly creep.
From shadows to corners I emerge and sneak.
As each one of my siblings meet with their defeat.
One by one I locate them before they retreat.
I pounce fast and sink in my teeth.
Two pops as within them I be.
Their life oozes and squirts in my cheeks.
Dropping them to the floor at my feet.
On and on I go like the Goddess Neith.
Killing each one weaving my destiny.
Right before I reach what seems like the last.
I catch sight of something but it was too fast.
Before the next breath, I was snatched up and swung. Flying into the wall where the trapdoor hung. Crash!
Quick to recover I face my assailant.
But with a size surpasses gigantic.
And at the moment not a fanatic.
Deadly glares from the mother, a dangerous combatant.
I quickly mask my aggression and pretend to be gallant.
My heavy breaths release the heat of the fight.
As I see through the cracks that it's no longer night.
The trapdoor that feeds us closed up tight.
Food is given and taken much to my delight.
Snagging mine quickly enough then hiding from sight.
Safely tucked far back in a crevice away from daylight.
I eat and I sleep well maybe not quite.
For a hunter must always be prepared for the bite.
Fate brought them together,
Purpose was their binder,
His oath took them apart,
It was a harrowing mission,
He had seen the vision,
He was told that it was a prophecy,
One he had to fulfil,
A tempest he had to still,
He journeyed with her to redemption,
They sojourned until completion,
It was a near-death experience,
They fought the monsters and prevailed,
They triumphed against the invisible,
He battled the last assailant,
He won but died,
She held him and cried,
Her good night kiss woke him up,
Her love for him stayed with her,
Though far and apart he still sees her,
In his mind and dreams.
January 11, 2023.
Violence in the political party
A pebble thrown to defend oneself from a barrage of 100- stones
The bully then complains of abuse—might never makes right
will we unite?—I Am Anaya “All for one and one for all”
Bullied everyday was he, his peer would tell the news agent
He was different, a loner, weird, wore camouflage
And so, we tormented him
A lunch bench, a boy sequestered was “bullied every day”
Silent, defeated, sunken, he rarely spoke a word
Clean slate, passes a routine background check
A dietary aid prepping food in a nursing home
Nothing unusual nothing remarkable
Republican at heart for God knows what gave way, donates
to the loyal opposition a progressive bent
A bit addled and mixed up, can we see?
Unleashing his wrath a man filled with hurt with hate
In his own backyard, the tormented dons the guise of the tormentor
The assailed becomes the assailant
The unthinkable is done, perched upon a roof
four-hundred feet away just minutes into the oration
he aims then pulls the trigger
obscure and distressed Crooks alters history’s course
with a firearm at the ready as a duty and right
Father Crooks kept many, in a very pro-gun town
At the hands of a 20-year-old man who was
bullied by their own sons and daughters
Counselors, both father and mother
trained to help troubled minds, how ironic
Where were they as their son’s inner storm brewed?
A blind eye turned away what shame, what horror
Yet the world’s most salient story
What am I to do when you are gone?
Twenty years together, a lifetime,
yet, not so long at all
...We've fought our many battles
and didn't win them all
but still we stand together
if somewhat weary, proud and tall
Yet now, an unseen assailant
threatens all we've built,
to take you away
with words like "progressive" and "incurable"
how dare they?
How Dare THEY??!
Till death us do part, was supposed to
happen till we were old and gray!
What am I to do without you?
You are a part of me...
How can I live when you are gone...
with only half of me?
How can I?
How can I be me?
.... without you?
If a time and place is different
for them to fire off their weaponry,
to lie and win against a significant.
What keeps a similarity in liability,
to lie and win in a predicament
where skill is an absolute necessity?
Bold and without a last abatement,
I see through the lies of industry.
Bold and without a past abashment,
wouldn't be paid a cent currency.
Seen by gross pure aggrandizement,
violent potent a cologne adversary.
Laughably, an obvious despondent.
Is there no end to one so lairy?
A stone thrown, I notice your salient.
I won't resemble the tuning veeries.
Even no pruning, losing an assailant.
The truth is tied up in flimflammery.
Path set by the trying time rodent.
Cocky, peacocking varies ostentatiously.
Read past the first half constituent.
Go pass-through a proof for checkery.
Auction of nonsense falsified Rembrandt.
Author a snow cipher meeting misery.