Long Battlefield Poems
Long Battlefield Poems. Below are the most popular long Battlefield by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Battlefield poems by poem length and keyword.
The din of darkness,
The cacophony of impostors,
The symphony of ignorance,
The decadence of progress,
Colonial heritage,
The empire of the pharaohs,
The agony of the pyramids,
The ordeal of free men,
The heat of infernal furnaces,
The burden of ancestral tortures,
The cradle of humanities chained to hatred,
The lament of immemorial torments,
The tale of forgotten shadows,
The macabre mass of intertwined destinies,
The accelerated decrepitude of fallen hopes,
The stigmata engraved on the parchment of time,
The funeral howls of a persistent memory,
The sepulchral embrace of an eternal night,
The tumult of trials in the scars of history,
The flashes of an untamed reality,
The epic of souls thirsting for redemption.
Proselytes and orators with fiery ideologies are ready to spark a conflict whose repercussions could shake the very foundations of society.
Land of asylum, sanctuary of xenophobes,
Doors of the chapels of drug addiction,
The reconquest of frustrated nostalgics,
The liberation of supremacist rantings,
The silence of the proletarians,
The promotion of social inequalities,
If monotheism were of divine essence,
Racism, slavery and colonization
Were not going to be sanctified,
In their so-called holy rags.
The conspirators demonize the plots of the marginalized,
The manipulators have an army of fanatical parrots,
The future of the earth is punctuated by catastrophes,
These madmen are already exploring the stars,
There will never be peace on this cursed planet,
The rich need the chaos generated,
Through war, misery, corruption and plunder,
The tombstones pile up,
Taciturn spectators of human tragedy, erected in a landscape devastated by the ravages of ephemeral power and limitless greed.
Political extremists and religious fanatics
Preparing for the final confrontation,
Africa will be the next global battlefield,
Sub-Saharans think they are escaping the horrors of poverty,
By crossing the Sahara on foot and swimming the Mediterranean,
While the multinationals of the new world order take advantage to plunder the natural resources of their subsoil.
Everyone has a soul to save
Somewhere in time from cradle to grave
Everyone dies as each one must
Flesh to bone to ashes to dust
Time brings age as do we all
Every rise is followed by a fall
Our final journey to the barrows down
We’re laid to rest six feet under ground
We travel by night to Sandman’s sound
In dreams with ghosts of ancestors all around
We all hit the wall
We go to high school and off to college
We become a warehouse of useless knowledge
We live to work and work to live
They always take and never give
For they that start by burning books
Will end by burning men
It will be as bad as it looks
And will happen over and over again
The dead from the battlefield
Will rise up once more
Take up their swords and shields
And they will arrive at your front door
Demanding of you what happened to them
In wars, massacres, chaos and mayhem
There is no such thing as the promised land
And there is no such thing as fate’s guiding hand
And there is no such thing as destiny too
Also, there is no such thing as dreams coming true
We all must bear the shame
And we all must bear the blame
We all have one foot in the grave
Only God can save
The innocent from the guilty
The ones half dead or will be
It’s not a game
But all the same
We all play anyway…
Written: August 14, 2023
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Today's man, a vessel of desire,
Feeds his body with mutant foods,
Yet hunger deeper, his soul afire,
Cravings are what incite the wildest moods.
In today's world, he falls into a sea of abounds
Consuming without cogitation or care,
His insatiable hunger knows no bounds.
As he feasts on what's not meant to share.
Genetically modified—chemically enhanced,
His body becomes a battlefield.
As mutant foods grew and danced.
Leaving his health to yield.
His taste buds danced with artificial flavors.
But his soul yearns for something pure.
Something that ignites the primal avers
And makes his spirit soar.
He seeks the forbidden fruit of passion.
The wild and untamed ecstasy,
To satiate the thirst of his frantic ration.
And set his wildest instincts free.
He craves the touch of a lover's hand.
The fire in their eyes, the heat of their breath,
a link that goes beyond the actual land
And satisfies his hunger for depth.
But in this digital age, his soul starves.
For genuine human connection,
As he seeks solace in virtual carves.
Searching for that elusive resurrection.
His insatiable hunger grows day by day.
As he longs for something real,
Yearning for a taste and for sway,
To satisfy his soul's appeal.
He ventures into the depths of mirth.
Where the wild and untamed strive,
Seeking solace in the beauty of the earth,
Where his spirit can truly thrive.
He forages for the fruits of the land.
In fields and forests, he finds his feast.
Nourishing his body with nature's sand,
And his soul with junk—these are the least.
A center stage of flood light probing,
desperate living in a murderous onslaught
war's naked inhumanity
sky tearing rockets, a pinpoint rage
casualties that define a battlefield
carnage that sticks to history
joyless existence for those flash-blinded by fear
upgraspable horror that fails comprehension
What drives global mayhem?
territorial expansion, the lust of thieves
the dictator's creed
imperialist thrust to chop at a culture's roots
to replant borders through blood-shed
greed
onslaught war in tanks of clattering woe
brute spectacle of citizen dislocation
Do we ignore war till it comes to us?
as history hooks another dark cloak
no civilized dictatorship
no reserve to deflect blame
authoritarianism that hasn't breathed its last
for the murderer scheming in plain sight through
rubble-years
cumulative scars of foes push his nervous tick
an unending pleasure
malice that sticks like lipstick on a mirror
Do we just change one war for another?
Or is peace like the buried secrets of mummified souls?
still struggling to be heard
Knowledge of survival that evaporates like steam
Poem composed October 3, 2022
Contest: Pick A Title Volume 32
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
I'm learning to pick and choose
what I endure, like what's it all for
relationships for example
you should always sample
what you're about buy
before you check out
is it sweet, is it pleasant
will it leave a bitter taste in my mouth
endurance is for those who
have the will to carry on
it's for those who know exactly
what they have and it's not worth
losing no matter if it times
things don't add up when
you do the math
I'm just swimming in my thoughts
a little poetry while listening to Floetry
still I can't allow myself to get distracted
from the task at hand
the more knowledge I gain
the more I learn that I've been lied to
the more militant I become
I have visions of my people
marching to the beat of one drum
so still endurance for the war I'm in
today's friends are tomorrow's enemies
so whatever battlefield you're on
whether it be love or
all out warfare
make your decision quickly
MONDAY SOULS
As the wind blows, the kettle whistles
and chirping birds relish the dawn.
Like us, they awaken to tired cars
on their morning commutes.
Windshield wipers stretch, yawning
brings tears, as the congregation wrestles
their Monday souls out of bed.
The blessed ones, with internal
resounding of Sunday’s choir, rejoicing
in their head - better than sugar plums,
cleanses all sand from their eyes,
clearing the way for a sunny day.
Whether on the beach or in the digs
of today’s workplace battlefield,
the tone is set for a joyful outpouring.
The leading of the Holy Spirit, with
heavenly wisdom, and
the Son’s approval stamp,
comfort suffering co-workers,
who search out and lean on
the morning light.
10/9/2017
I'm a dream chaser chasing
After my dreams for the risen King.
I'm running after my dreams,
At full speed like a water stream.
Not backing down from another fight
In fact I'm getting ready to take flight.
My bags are packed and on board,
I'm ready to soar with Captain Jesus at the core.
I'm dreaming big and running full of power like a cell tower.
I'm dedicated and standing in faith,
That God's vision for my life,
Will be displayed by him in every way.
I'm called to be great call me "Nate the Great"
And I know I make a lot of mistakes and that's okay.
I know I will overcome,
Defeat every obstacle that comes towards me.
I'm determined to be the best me that I'm called to be,
God's got the victory and he lives inside of me.
Ready, set, go
I'm coming to face my fears and run my race.
Brace yourself I'm breaking down the Great Wall
And watching the bricks vibrate and shake,
Like an earthquake as they fall like the New Year's ball.
I'm a dream chaser chasing
After my dreams for the risen King.
It's time for me to break free
And live my dream at the count of three.
I'm relentlessly spreading your empire,
Like a wildfire.
Breaking down my barriers
Like the walls of Jericho.
Not waiting around the battlefield in fear anymore.
Where are all my Soldiers? Suiting up for combat?
I'm not just a conqueror,
I'm also a mighty warrior;
I refuse to lose sight of my victory.
After the fight I'm part of a team that's got my back,
Through every crack on the track.
Over the hills, and through the valleys,
Even in the most crowded alleys;
God's angels are by my side
Flying high in the sky.
I'm living from within
A new day is getting ready to begin.
I'm taking my place next to the King.
Unashamed to proclaim
That I'm living for the one who forever reigns.
I'm free forever in the savior's name
And my life will never be the same.
I've received a revelation
And no matter the situation,
I'm going after the dream
That will change a generation.
I won't stop until I reach the entire nation.
I'm a dream chaser chasing
After my dreams for the risen King.
No matter the situation,
I'm going after the dream
That will change a generation.
I won't stop until I reach the entire nation.
I'm a dream chaser chasing
After my dreams for the risen King.
To those poets who guided me along
that long, arduous road to success:
I sincerely give them my sweetest
" Thank you " and my warmest hug.
I can mention many names: Carrie Richards, Laura Mckenzie, Carolyn Devonshire
Cathy Lindsey, Debbie Guzzi, Nette Oncloud, Linda-Marie,Harry Horseman, Rick Parise,
Andrea Dietrich,Carol Brown,John Freedman,Connie Marcum Wong,Andersen Anne Lise,
John J. Falotico, Destroyer Poet, Vienna Bombardieri and Tracie Indigo Dreamweaver.
I would love to see those names in the Poetry Soup Hall Of Fame;
they have shown devotion and ambition through their brilliant poetry,
and the entire world should recognize them for their talent and ability,
but if the literati ignored their contributions, it would be more than shame.
I praise these gladiators of literature whose sharp swords are words for thought;
I laud their achievements and shout their names with a pride never heard,
to let everyone know how great and invincible they are in the battlefield...
and they'll go forward holding the torch of inspiration until its flame will burn out.
This time not at the cross of Cavalry,
But at Armageddon battlefield.
The earth will hear trumpets blow,
And thunder roars.
They will see the sky open and is adorned
With a majestic seven-color rainbow.
At the battlefield an obnoxious enemy awaits,
Demons, Ai’s, and humans in their millions with
Their beast, antichrist king, and satan.
On a white horse, our Savior will ride in.
With an infinity of angels and saints behind Him.
They will hear the trumpets louder,
And the tremble of the earth under their feet,
As all the angels and saints with their King,
Come marching in.
The space will be too small as we take our stand,
From heaven above unto the battleground.
And then a great silence will fall,
After Jesus speaks.
Satan and his two minions will be taken into captivity.
Thrown into the deep abyss, and the rest,
The birds of prey will have a feast.
Heaven with all the angels and saints will rejoice.
Because victory belongs to Jesus.
He is the darling of us all, our King, Savior, and Emanuel.
I behold the iron—
gleaming, unbent in the sunlight;
yet within, a slow fire eats its marrow.
Rust spreads like a secret plague,
and once it begins,
no hand of man can cleanse it whole.
The tale of the kingmaker whispered it to me,
the theatre of selfish rulers carved it on my mind.
I saw thieves in holy garments,
anointed in greed,
investing their crimes like merchants of sorrow.
Their hunger is endless,
their ruthlessness a sharpened blade.
Heroism is not a sin,
yet the battlefield is never safe.
Who shall raise a shield for me?
Who shall lend me a voice?
If I perish, tomorrow wears no mourning cloth.
If my name survives, it is miracle;
if forgotten, I become a nameless ghost—
a son of dust,
sailing the one-way river of the dead,
longing to greet the countless shadows
who fell as I have fallen.
Justice walks with trembling feet;
its seekers sleep with daggers at their throats.
For the heads that once taught us virtue
now feast at the banquet of decay.
They crown their tables with corruption,
they threaten the tongues of truth,
and with fear’s black whip
they make Justice herself
a prisoner in chains.