Long Captors Poems
Long Captors Poems. Below are the most popular long Captors by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Captors poems by poem length and keyword.
Kidnapped. - for Peeking Through The Keyhole Contest
The hole where the key’s meant to go
Was vacant so I had to know
What was outside to be seen
But my captors weren’t all that keen
It seems I succumbed to a cosh
Cos someone was after some dosh
Nobody heard when I cried
Nobody knew I was tied
But I had a knife in my shoe
So I knew what I had to do
I managed to sever my ropes
That were tied by some Bond villain blokes
So what lay beyond yonder door
I silently traversed the floor
I peeked where the key had gone clunk
But all I could see was... erm... ‘junk’
And then what passed by was some fellow
I swear that that geezer was yellow
What was it I’d seen through that peep hole
When I saw Peking through the keyhole
31 December 2018
For John Lawless’ Slap The Muse Contest
He struts into the room
He drives away the crowd
He pierces you down with his stare
Your prayer screams right out loud --
Oh, Lord
Gimme strength with this man
The mongoose and the cobra
The pitbull and its prize --
Nature has no mercy
The hunter needs not a disguise
Oh, Lord
Gimme strength with this man
I crawled beneath the barbed wire
Somewhere in East Beirut
The mines and friendly fire
My captors in pursuit
I made it home okay
I thought that it was safe
One day my doorbell rang
Now every night, I pray:
Oh Lord,
Gimme strength with this man
He could've been your cousin
Could be your brother too
Your psychedelic uncle
Who likes to prank and fool
In a better world you'd find him
Smiling, laughing, loving
But here in the yard, he watches from towers
And leads you into the oven
There was a man with integrity that nobody can impugn.
The man who I'm speaking of was Daniel Boone.
This man was truly a great pioneer.
He lived a long life, nearly 86 years.
People are amazed by the incredible feats that he did.
In 1756, he married Rebecca Bryan and had ten kids.
As a young man, he served with the British military during the French and Indian war.
In July of 1776, he rescued his daughter and two other girls from Indian captors.
Sadly, the Shawnees shot and killed his brother Ned.
They thought they shot Daniel and that he was dead.
Boone was elected to the Virginia Legislature in 1781.
During an Indian attack, he lost another brother and Israel, his son.
He founded the town of Boonesborough in Kentucky.
When it came to having this frontiersman, we were lucky.
Boone went on to live until 1820.
People owed this true hero plenty.
All I can hope for, I can not put into writing.
Because I am turning blank, my words shot with lightning.
I enter this cavern- and the doors close forever.
I rid myself of my family's voices, wishing they would pull a lever.
To send me back to a world where I don’t belong.
I promise to stay in the background, and let my presence not be strong.
I promise-
To give up my being honest.
About what kind of pain I carry.
This pain that I will marry.
And never let my soul connect.
To another person, I will always deflect.
So I cannot share-
The pain that leaves me impaired.
The Hunt
One bar broke and then another for the rapid break
The escape was quick and painless
The man ran for his life from enemies
At top speed he fled with nothing on his feet
Sweat exuded, poured from his body
Breathing deep into the jungle dark
Captors ran too to take his life with knives and rifles
Thick jungle traps laughed at them as they ran by
Pursued their prisoner through labyrinths of vines and branches
Screaming angrily with lit torches through the pitch black night
Close behind, the soldiers chased their prey
Running, panting below the canopy
Shots rang out burning by his ears
Limbs flailing as the bullets flew blindly through the tangled vegetation
Jumping over logs and bushes, petrified of dying
Trudging through a rapid stream, bent on taking him down as well
He emerged on the other bank with a bleeding foot
A piranha mistook it for a lure, tore off a toe, swallowed it for dinner
Pain and fear set in while he hobbled on into the darkness
Panthers glared frantically at the injured man
Sized him up as breakfast, less one toe
Even insects had no respect for dignitaries from another land
They too needed to be fed
The soldiers had their troubles also as the jungle storms set in
Snuffed out their torches and tortured them with stinging rain
Scorpions and snakes are cold and hunger for a change
Tired of eating the same old rodents and stupid birds
Running through the jungle is not always a safe undertaking
When hunting down your prey to take a life
You never know who is on the menu from day to day
Perhaps someone with a different taste, from the human race
Someone who escaped from another plate
Or someone with knives and guns
Will find another kind of fate and dinner date
Mel got knocked up very early
when out playing the field,
then she went and murdered it
before it all got ‘too real.’
Now her baby haunts her dreams,
and she sees only perdition,
there’s a reason we don’t kill kids,
there’s a truth behind tradition.
Allan called himself ‘open-minded,’
and said ‘he would never judge.’
He’d let anyone into his house,
be they poor, homeless, or thug.
One day he woke up and found he
no longer had a television,
still he refused to make judgements,
blind to why it’s a tradition.
Sue was an empowered type,
she “did not need no man!”
She went ahead and had a kid,
to be raised by her own hand.
But now the boy is out of control,
and her pay-check’s but a pittance,
with no husband to share the load,
as was done by tradition.
Mark was a male feminist
who stood by to help his ‘girl.’
She was a strident activist,
she was his entire world.
Until he learned a Hell’s Angel
upon his true love had ridden,
there’s reason men should act like men,
not by chance is it tradition.
Jane, she was a young GI,
one of the very few
women who had passed the tests
Aal male soldiers must do.
Where her squad was over-run,
her captors laughed in derision,
She knew what they planned for her,
a dark and horrible tradition…
Rick was a damn millionaire,
quite blessed by inheritance,
never had to work a day,
nor a toiling hour spend.
Still he sent out resumes,
surrendered to the repetition,
to have no task would drive him mad,
he needed that male tradition.
Sure we know some had to go,
discrimination comes to mind,
but the bulk of them still remain,
and I think most folks will find
these ideas stand the test of time,
face Darwinian competition,
those that survive all the world’s trials
are entrenched as tradition.
To seek change for it’s own sake,
is a foolish waste of time,
a vanity of success and wealth,
a byproduct of good times.
But this world is a ruthless thing,
with nonsense it’s not smitten,
to survive at all is a great fight,
your best weapons are traditions.
In a land far and far away,
There stands a city majestic,
With tall buildings streets filled,
With cars and people always in a hurry.
This is the way of the citizens,
Of this great new city.
A fair maiden stands in a field,
Who dreams of these buildings,
Thinking is this the way of the future?
When in reality they are of a,
New world just cities apart.
The city is not what invades,
Her dreams but a girl that,
She remembers from her past.
She was yanked from the grasp of,
Her love by the villagers leaving,
Her in tears.
Taking her away because of their love.
She is isolated in the stables, where,
She was tortured Destroying,
Her memory of her love.
The villagers thinking she has forgotten
But now she remembers in a dream,
About a girl who has her heart.
One day she will leave to go,
And find her.
Leaving her captors and villagers,
Who lock her away in the,
Prison of her mind.
From a distance she sees Melissa ,
Her friend running screaming she's here.
She has a drawing of you,
She's looking for you but no one saw her.
She said meet her at the oak tree ,
In the country where you always go,
She is waiting for you.
From a distance they see a,
Black square carriage ,
Jumping off the horse she runs
Into the arms of her love.
Looking into her eyes I see the tears,
She tenderly touches my cheek
Softly kisses my lips.
I feel the passion and longing of her love.
I am so in love with you and,
I can never forget that kiss.
Let's go I climb in the car as my love
Looks at Melissa come on
We will show you the new city.
Melissa smiles and never looks back.
Merlin was born by sorcery.
A demon father, incubus.
Virginal mother, royalty.
Great wizard of King Arthur's court.
Of legends, deeds and chivalry.
That fabled castle Camelot.
He prophesied, waved magic spells.
Bade Viviane of Avalon,
Enchantress Lady of the Lake,
To forge a royal magic sword.
Excalibur she set in stone.
Merlin besotted and beguiled
Reveals; his secrets for her love,
Black magic art, dark sorcery.
Which wantonly would seal his fate.
Arthur's crowned King, he drew the sword.
Excalibur it blinds the foe.
King Arthur's scars in victory,
By magic scabbard, they don't bleed.
Merlin rewards his Viviane
To cross the sea to Avalon.
A magic castle on her lake,
Whoever passed, they could not see
He built for her by sorcery.
She spurned his love, insanity.
Merlin's a Druid going mad.
Hallucination, lunacy.
Now wild man of the apple woods
In Avalon, misunderstood.
Craving his freedom, prophesied,
Three times how would a young boy die.
He saw him falling from a rock.
Then secondly, hung from a tree.
And finally he would be drowned.
His captors laughed, how could this be,
A prophecy turned into three.
One day the boy walked by a stream.
He tripped and fell from off a rock
His leg entrapped by roots of tree,
Hanging, he drowned in waters deep.
Merlin's predictions, set him free.
But Viviane now cast a spell.
Entombing Merlin in a stone.
That temptress Lady of the Lake.
her arms had waisted away
her hands were cuffed
shackles incised her wrists
her eyes weren’t motionless
but all she could see was a wall
and she felt like an infernal image
of rage damned water welling up
with no release for tears
and solid incarceration
all she had done was to think
share her thoughts of reason
with valid precision and rational logic
had peacefully presented emotion
and felt she had been doing no harm
not an ounce of corruption
but the scales of injustice weighed
heavily and not in her favour
they had not blindfolded her
to never leave any doubt
that she would be able to see
the indisputable claim of the straight jacket
which covered her naked torso
her hair by now long and unkempt
nails like claws unable to reach
the foul wounds dug into her skin
infested by vermin and vile contempt
her gaze had turned inward
on a downward spiral of defeat
but she had nothing to confess
could not betray anyone
had she wanted to do so
and nevertheless she was grateful
that she knew nothing to part with
ironically she was in full control
of being completely out of control
a scrawny residue of former pride
she was way past hunger
the last scraps of fat had vanished
and yet so far she was a survivor
although confusion was taking a toll
her brain was wired into meshed pulp
until finally she was so thin
that she could move her delicate forearms
maybe her captors were not so clever after all
at first and at last she was able to turn
and glimpse one ray of hope through
a window with no hinges attached
and a new field of vision appeared
on the periphery central to her escape
she slipped the fetters
and knew that looking out for the truth
had been worth the wait
as she disappeared without trace
04th August 2021
Imagism Poetry Contest
Sponsor Emile Pinet
?•?LIKE TUPAC LIKE MOHBAD?•?
Pain persists; Mysterious exit.
Tupac & Mohbad's demise calls for justice.
Tupac reigns in death & we await his rise,
Mohbad's the first superstar buried twice.
Juxtapose their life & departures.
Death became their untimely captors.
1996, Tupac died, but Mohbad was born.
Pac's born-day is June & Mohbad also came on.
September claimed both Tupac & Mohbad.
Marlian records suddenly became contraband.
Tupac & Mohbad bids farewell age 27.
May their soul be received in heaven
Both shook the streets with credibility, even...
Pac's legendary folklore gaggles our throats much more.
And his songs give crazy vibes galore.
Mohbad's new worldwide status
births his fame & global applause.
Everything they said in their lyrics came to pass,
Songs and cry of justice are sang by their fans.
Mohbad said, "bami doju ti awon ti mo text ti won reply mi
(help me disgrace those I texted that didn’t reply me).
Tupac dons the robe of ghetto gospel,
preached street survival & street hustle.
Mohbad is a disguised street prophet,
his songs, the street & media can relate.
Tupac, in his lyrics, said, "Me against the world."
Mohbad's cry was ignored until he had no word.
Both saw death before it came around.
They raised alarm but death held them bound.
Their death knell was muted by our ears,
tho they sang & amplified their brave fears.
In tribute, radio stations open it door.
Tupac's bandana & "W" gesture became a symbol.
Mohbad said, "Ki okunkun yin parada toripe imole tin nbo."
That is, "Let all your darkness disappear
cos the LIGHT IS COMING & will appear."
It's happening cos Naija is shedding off darkness
to bring to light the mystery behind his demise.
Tupac claims he's Makavelli & Thug Angel.
Mohbad calls himself IMOLE, lighted Angel.
Hope there's a heaven for a THUG in flight?
IMOLE!IMOLE!! Let there be Light!!!
?•?VICK MANUEL POETRY?•?
{VMP}
FORM: Rhymes.
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