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.
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.
my reoccurring dream is a nightmare
because I am walking under the concrete underpass
located next to the town square in my hometown
this is a place I have always been scared of
terrifies me, so why am I there?
was I chased here?
the air feels ominous
I hear a twig snap
this is no forest
it is concrete, uphill
the further I go the more terrified I become
I am cornered by my assailant
he throws me down on the ground
I am going to scream so loudly, the entire town will hear me
but no sound comes out
there is only silence
I try again and again
waking up with black pupils
full of fear, scared to death by my scariest dream
a dream I cannot get rid of
a dream that haunts me for fifty-seven years
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:
Often, I fall to the ground in anguish and burst into tears,
not for lack of strength, but to ask for forgiveness;
seldom, I venture down a narrow and unlit road,
fearing the assailant is waiting for my innocent blood!
I call upon the Lord of infinite kindness and mercy
to keep those bad-willed men off my treacherous trail;
how I want to scrutinize the awesome universe
and name a few planets with careful observance!
And although I am unable to spot and discovered any,
with the naked eye: I seek them more than the Holy Grail!
Often, I question with disbelief how fate makes me broach,
affecting my emotions and destabilizing them to incur
dread when the heavy tread of footsteps approach;
are they those of a ghost or is someone at the door?
Not all men are evil and can boast of a massive wealth,
being rich is the privilege of the few, others only dream of it;
I've been assigned a formidable task which requires no stealth:
to make most of this existence, not indulging in excessive guilt!
He sat at a desk
Where he had worked for twenty years
As he gathered the evidence collected
He fought back swelling tears
She sat in the home
Where she learned to trust and run
Love had sheltered her and her boys
This couldn't be how LOVE is done
....critical loss
He lugged his suitcase
Down the lonely road of the city
He had three degrees to his name
And a cardboard sign trying to buy pity
She stood under the street light
Waiting for her next trick to drive up
Needed money for living in drugs
Why could she never get enough
....despair
He walked into the restaurant
Fighting back the urge to demand "clean"
Though he tried to ask for a favor
He knew his words were controlling and so mean
She sat in the house of worship
Fearing that an assailant would enter
How could she protect her young
And keep "god" front and center
.....drilling for oil
They gather at promises
Saying they believe the earth holds gold
But as water separates from oil
Terror fills the believer's mold
The black ooze comes to all
But the water of the WORD repels
Nothing can stay where LOVE has cleansed
The heart from systems once held
....as truth
Written by Trudy Schrader on 03/12/2020
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.
At a poker table in a Deadwood saloon,
Wild Bill Hickok popped his last balloon.
He suffered the most ignominious of fates
while holding black pairs of aces and eights.
Bill was unexpectedly shot in the back of the head.
“Crooked Nose Jack” McCall rendered Hickok dead.
Wild Bill was playing a game of five card draw.
His assailant was someone he never saw.
Since the Dakotas were in Indian country,
McCall could not be protected from double jeopardy.
A second trial convicted Jack McCall.
He was left hanging by his neck, and that was all.
This was one of the legendary tales of the West.
Wild Bill Hickok was more popular than most of the rest.
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
Son of my being;
Child of my heart.
My body aches in grief
since we were torn apart.
I had you for a while
but a while isn't much.
If only I had known
you'd be beyond my touch.
The sound of your voice
still echos in my ears.
Your face so real before me,
I see you through my tears.
Though time might steal my memories,
You'll always be here;
Tucked away safe in my heart
with nothing more to fear.
God has another angel
as your soul is in His keep.
For those that love you here on earth,
the emptiness runs deep.
My baby boy you'll forever be
mother's joy and heartbreak too.
Your life cut short without goodbyes;
My life is now a testament to you.
April 22, 2021
This poem was written for a friend whose son was shot to death by an unknown assailant. Her grief is compounded by the lack of closure in an ongoing murder investigation. This young man's death affected us all. I too have a son and would find his loss unbearable under such circumstances. It makes me wonder how Mary could bear the death of her son, Jesus. I am amazed by these strong women.
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!
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