Long Barbarian Poems
Long Barbarian Poems. Below are the most popular long Barbarian by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Barbarian poems by poem length and keyword.
Out of the blue;
lightning bolt jabs, stabs.
Raging storm of vengeance;
searing in the night.
I feel the horror
of the violent tempest.
Vile angry tempest;
sky of black and blue.
A worse horror
is a migraine stab.
It’s the longest nights,
unending vengeance.
The eternal vengeance;
barbarian tempest;
predator of the night;
leaves me so blue.
It’s jabs and stabs
sre a living horror.
Horror of horrors!
unyielding vengeance.
Oh how it stabs;
the searing tempest,
of blacks and blues;
such is a migraine night.
Agony’s night,
a penetrating horror,
singing me blue.
A song of vengeance;
I feel I’ll die as tempest
continues her rabid attack…stabbing.
If I could stab
her in the night;
that rabid tempest;
she’d feel the horror
of my vengeance.
I’d leave her black and blue.
Oh how it stabs; that vile, unyielding tempest!
Oh the nights of such cold-hearted vengeance.
This storm of horror, gives me more than the blues.
It springs like rain on mown grass
Winds murmur over quiet pines
No hoofbeats of horseman lost
No limpid water from deep springs
oasis lift from arid sand.
Barbarian rides past towers without watchman
Deep thunder in mountain thrown up
Footprints of the darkness
stone like starkness
Harrowing & unhalting.
Grand inquisitor, earth's jailhouser
coverned deep and iron ringed
submerged in auto-cage of steal
Far from end and near to nowhere
lifting our heads to the light of God:
Spare my family and friends, thou great
keeper of souls
In its direness and darkness
footprints of light, our bodies taken,
our self retaken,
wastelands of ruins heaped with ash
mea culpa, mea culpa
I shut my soul up inside of my walls but,
it escaped; running rampant in my dreams.
People tried so hard to crush my inner child;
I wouldn’t let them.
They called it a, “Daycare” but, it was a, “daymare”, designed to terrify children.
Dragon Lady made her threats with the back of her hand,
to our mouths, daily.
Her demon son made his with the barrel of a BB gun;
pressed to our foreheads; for added effect, he’d strangle a frog or crush a large bug to, get his, rabid point across.
The barbarians lived in my head for years;
right up the street, too.
They knew where I lived and made threats.
For six years I attended that, “daymare”; terrified that if I told my parents’; the barbarians would kill them and me.
They’d promised that they would so,
I kept it all inside but,
It surfaced in my nightmares.
I vowed to my inner child that I would never be a Mom;
I wouldn’t be able to keep my children safe from,
“daymare” barbarians.
Children should never be as,
calves to the slaughterhouse.
After thirty years of the “daymares”;
I still warn friends and family;
reputations are deceptive;
easy to buy or…threaten.
Day care can be anything except a, “safe place”.
Pedophiles aren’t the only childhood dangers and monsters are very real; demons in a human-suit are still demons.
As I look at the obituaries…I begin to feel safe;
they can’t hurt anyone, anymore.
What is better?
The smoke from cigarettes
Or burnt hair?
Match sticks that are more faithful to the wind,
Or lips that wet in impatience,
Methane that can burn down a home,
Or just some bricks, wood and gordian carpets.
Everyday as the clock starts to tread
The same barbarian path twice
Men and Women die.
Why?
Just like the odd mosquito wants to ski on a thread
Or the ant that swims in cough syrup
There are souls that can never die,
And the more the rules,
The more the rules.
Morning clamour of the busy streets,
Do not call me,
'People', 'Parents', ‘Prostitution’ Proliferate
And all of them ‘P’
On the face of truth,
Did they ever not sin?
Did they ever not love?
Did they ever not hate?
Did they ever not have been libidinous?
Or did they ever not want to kill?
Modesty, Courtesy...are mannequins of myth
Indulged in sophisticated melodrama:
The People,
The Society,
The Hypocrites,
The Rules
And the more the rules
The more the rules.
Who the Judas made them anyway?!
These Limericks were written after playing a card game called Poo Pocalypse... don't ask or I'll blame it on Jan...lol
History recorded leaders in wars
Great men and women: their whys and wherefores
Napolean Bona-fart
A short French dude, a sweet tart
Whose stinky stench exuded from his pores
A female consort weighed too many stones
From scarfing down ice cream in waffle cones
Mary, the Queen of Plops
Upon her butt she flops
In the castle, her toilets were her thrones
There was a barbarian, years ago
In battles much blood was sure to flow
Nasty crap from the buns
of Atilla the Runs
More deadly than arrows from a crossbow
King from the Plantagenet dynasty
was not given time for his toiletry
That was terribly absurd
for England's Richard the Turd
It was an invasion of privacy
Troubled was the one who made great magic
There was one known to have gas... how tragic
The Great Harry Poodini
Had powers of a genie
But subduing farts, he didn't know Jack!
Peeking in windows is an evil deed
One pervert, whose weakness he did concede
He's known as 'Pooping Tom'
With coolness and aplomb
Watching people crap is his craving need
You should know
I’m not who I am
The one who you see living an everyday life
Being paid for the job he’s doing
Sometimes with pains in his back
Or in his knees
The triumph of stupidity giving him migraine headaches
He who reads the papers and hears the news
And drinks with his friends or alone
And smokes an old pipe secretly so his wife doesn’t know
He who worries about the lives of kids
And struggles to write the unwritten
I am a man who makes his life far from here
Who explores unknown places in the earth
Who nips in the bud monstrous hurricanes
Who holds a tight leash on flooding rivers and spins energy
To light up the night
Who reveals through the cosmos the history of creation
Who helps find the names for new stars
Who takes protons apart like shelling walnuts
Entering through quarks
To get at matter’s secrets
Who can make the dumb speak and deaf hear
Tuning in to the world’s cacophony
Who appears in the path of barbarian hordes
And crushes them
Who destroys wild dictators
The minute they step away from their thrones
And people wake up smiling
Who finds the roots of medicines for each disease
Who undoes the greenhouse effect
Saving the world from global warming
And in the evening
After conducting a giant orchestra
And a chorus of a million children in the Sahara desert
That he has caused to blossom with olive trees and oranges
Returns to his home
To lie only a little bit tired
Near the quiet breathing of his beloved wife.
Form:
Why weren't any of the great emperors, or even those of lesser renown, enticed to acquire such a rich piece of land in the East? There aren’t much of historical archives shedding light on the subject, but it is possible that events could unfold in this way – Plutarch could have expounded this legend far more colourfully than your humble servant. A Roman emperor receives an ambassador from one of the eastern countries, who inclines him to conquer the neighbouring land. The Emperor finds the plan reasonable, so during the conversation he decides to invade the eastern lands of the barbarians, in particular to prevent their possible aggression against Rome. However, the problem is that the climate in these lands requires fur garments; otherwise, the valiant Roman legionaries would think only about how to get warm, hence will be unable to fight. Our country, the ambassador reported, are ready to solve this problem, they can sell the Romans excellent fur coats, for a small sum of money. However, the sum seems exorbitant, and the emperor refuses the ambassador. The next day the emperor is informed about the envoy from the barbarians, and he receives the barbarian in his chambers. I am aware of your intentions, my great emperor, says the barbarian, and I am prepared to arrange a deal on fur coats at half the price offered to you, as you can buy the required amount of fur coats directly from us. Although I myself am a barbarian, I have a Roman mentality, my great emperor, and I sincerely wish you to conquer our lands to establish your Roman law and order over there. When I read your laws, I just cried with happiness, how much justice and wisdom they conceive. There is no need to drink wine, just read a page of your laws and I feel groggy with delight. I'm sure all the powerful barbarians will accept your rule without question and praise your wisdom in their prayers. So, shall we make a bargain, great emperor? ‘No!’ followed the cold reply. 'I refuse to make a deal, and I see no point in wasting energy on conquering your lands. Once we conquer you, we will gradually become as conniving, vile, cynical, and vengeful cunnings as you are. That is not the future I want for Greater Rome. So get out, Mr Barbarian. Thank you so much for your wisdom and time, my great emperor, the barbarian says. You’ve given me exactly the answer I expected to hear.
Do I hate Walt Whitman...No,
I never heard of his tolls,
but I came in contact with his withdrawals-
and I think he is an ass that could use menthol's!
Back in time,
people didn't pry,
he tried....
But also hoped the sun would bring a Nile-
of truth about a spiral...
But the water runs more than miles,
and this is all about the smile's,
so what if people become wild...
and barbarian,
and filed-
oh why do they think of a child?
My child wouldn't say beguile!
But the apes might agree that you are mild!
Filled like the kind,
blowing gas outta the behind,
riding other people's minds, to the lake,
and then back to the blind.
Wet a glance as the nocturne faded. Deeply rooted was the clause of all men's fears and queries. Nonetheless stagnant to the terms of the ever growing woe-field at dusk. Nevermore would the twelfth cripple slay the beast of foundry lane. Cups of variation would beam and gawk the very presence of egotistical teas, or anything like it for that matter.
She had very much grown to like the groans of the cask watcher, as she needled him, sew. Mana waned, exalted at at the fact that a taco stand could ne'r grasp the sheer magnificence of such a blur of cosmic obliteration.
Fathers of bears DO enjoy skittles, after they have fallen to the gleaming, sometimes tripe-ridden lakes of the barbarian fist junkies of old. Don't ask me why, but scattered pie is far more delicious.
inspired by Tim Burton
Cartoons
Saturday morning, early,
we sat around the toob…(tv)
We laughed.
Road runner was too fast,
the coyote was always too slow.
Thundar was a Barbarian,
and Strawberry was a shortcake.
Shaggy chased bad guys,
Scooby was a hero.
Foghorn was a wise rooster,
and hunting season changed quickly.
Marvin was a Martian,
and earth was in the way.
However,
No one got too hurt,
No one thought it was too real,
to steal the truth from our imaginations.
No, no one.
We learned please and thank you…
Con-juction-junction and what happens to a “bill”. (that wants to be a law)
The scariest thing to watch was PBS, where babies come from. (parental permission)
Our evenings were the American Hero, McFixIt the Everything Man,
and where no “man” has gone before.
(no one was mad, as “man” meant humanity…
even clearer, no one had to consider, as it was obvious…why is it no longer that way)
Still, we laughed.