Long Chief Poems

Long Chief Poems. Below are the most popular long Chief by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chief poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Ragnarok: the Storm

With the end of days upon them
Nears the time of final battle
In the halls of high Valhalla
Asgard senses its death rattle

In the forest crows the rooster 
In the sky the sun does darken
In the cave the hound is howling
To these signs the Aesir harken

Heimdall blows the Gjallarhorn
Dark the rainbow bridge is turning
Vivid lightning cleaves Yggdrasil
Then the central tree is burning

Aesir watch in fascination
See volcanoes spew like fountains
See the heavens splitting open
See the oceans climb the mountains

See the continents convulsing
See the forests burn to ashes
See the sons of Mim awaken
In the fatal lightning flashes

As the winds consume the wasteland
From the south Surtr advances
With his minions tearing corpses
Bright his sword and sharp his lances

Aesir then prepare their weapons
Eyes are clear and arms are steady
The Midgard serpent Jörmungandr
Upon the battle plain is ready

With his heavy hammer Mjolnir
Strides the mighty god of thunder
To do battle with the serpent
And to rend the world asunder

June 30, 2014

N.B. This poem is an Epyllion, a brief narrative poem with a romantic or mythological theme. It is written in trochaic tetrameter, like some of the ancient Eddas.


Glossary:
Ragnarök - Final battle and death of the Aesir
Aesir - The Norse gods
Asgard - one of the Nine Worlds and home of the Aesir
Valhalla - a majestic, enormous hall located in Asgard, ruled over by the chief Norse god Odin
Heimdall - A Norse god who blows his horn to signal the beginning of Ragnarök
Gjallarhorn - Heimdall's horn
Midgard- Middle Earth, or the world of humans
Bifröst - the burning rainbow bridge between Midgard and Asgard
Yggdrasil - The sacred Norse central tree that holds the Nine Worlds
Mim - an Asian renowned for his knowledge and wisdom who has been beheaded. Odin carries around Mím's preserved head and it recites secret knowledge and counsel to him.
Surtr- a fire troll with a flaming sword who sets the world on fire.
Jörmungandr- The world serpent or ouroboros that surrounds the earth and grasps his own tail. When he lets go, the world will end. Jörmungandr's arch-enemy is the god Thor.
Thor - The Norse god of thunder
Mjolnir  - Thor's hammer and principal weapon
© Roy Jerden  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Epyllion


Wagontire Oregon For Poem a Thon

April 6 Wagontire, Oregon 
1973

In 1973, I went on a road trip 
With my father

We left Berkeley to go to Yakima
Where my father had a summer cabin

He was a college professor
And had July and August off 

And we spent the summers
Every summer from 1968 to 1978 

Our whole dysfunctional family
Our annual road trip to hell and back 
As we did not get along at all 

We decided to drive through Eastern Oregon
Just my father and me
Just for the hell of it

The rest of the family was already there 

My father and I shared a travel lust
One of the few things we shared 

This was one of our best trips
We got along 
Which was unusual 

Normally our relationship
Was fraught 
As we were so different 

We left Klamath Falls 
A real nothing burg in those days

And headed east along highway 395
As we entered the desert of eastern Oregon
We entered a different world

High mountain dessert
Almost no one on the road 

Then we saw the sign
Wagontire Oregon 
100 miles ahead

99 miles ahead
98 miles ahead

We counted down the signs 
Miles after miles
As we drove into the gathering dusk

We speculated that Wagontire
Must be a giant truck stop
In the middle of no where

We pulled into the town
Nothing there but a gas station
Motel and café

We decided to stop
Last gas for 100 miles 
According to the highway signs

In the morning
We chatted with the owner

He was the sheriff, the fire chief
The owner of the motel, gas station
The only business in town

And the only place open 
For one hundred miles

I noticed a highway sign outside
Welcome to Wagontire, Oregon
Population 2 ½ humans 10 dogs, 50.000 sheep

I asked the Sherriff
Say who is the ½ human?

My idiot son!

And we left.
200 miles later 
We finally left Eastern Oregon

2016

In 2016 my wife and I drove through Eastern Oregon
As part of our epic cross country trip
10,000 miles
31 states in three months

On the way from Medford to Yellowstone
We drove along highway 395 

The signs for Wagontire was gone
And we drove through the town

The motel was abandoned
Nothing there at all

And that sign was gone too 

I said I suppose the idiot son
Never took over the business

And we speculated about Wagontire
And all other nothing burgs 
We drove through that summer

Heart of Trump’s America 
True fly over country
© Jake Aller  Create an image from this poem.

Camp E-How-Kee

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By
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Camp E-How-Kee.
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Camp E-How-Kee
as a child
had it's dark side as well.

Paul Butler is doing life
for robbery
i know.
He was black and seemed
like a nice kid back then,
he was the token
in our small group of whites
with him it numbered ten.

Fat Jack..Jack Thomas
died
in Florida state prison.

George Walker abused by
his father,
Sexually, psychologically and
physically life a living hell.
kicked in the face by Chief Snell.
He may have weighted
seventy pounds soaking wet
five foot one perhaps.
While Chief Snell,
wearing size thirteen and standing
six foot eleven in bare socks.
Kicked him in his face one early morn.

George in and out prison as well
perhaps by now, 'maybe dead.
He had courage.

Robert Sykes, whom wet the bed
every night.
Lord only knows,
the demons and monsters,
inside of his head.
The abuse that he suffered at home
was his fault we all now know
but a child as well.

is he alive..Amen.

The boy with the epileptic seizures
so bad
I remember his name..
as Dwayne Robinson..he shook and he
screamed all night..
putting the pillow over his head.

While the counselor poured buckets
of cold water on him.
Screaming be quite.
where was 'God'..then..

Must I go on..yes I will.
All of us between eleven and twelve.
Maybe one was thirteen..
mighty frontiersman were we.

Angels, were we heavens know, 'no.
being allowed to use axes
and draw knives
we kept pocket knives to do our work.

And Wally Otting was like Frank...
Michael Berro...
none thinking back then were like I..
When it got to bad
I would take most away in the middle
of the night to escape..
what we thought we escaped when it was
we left our homes.

Most would not listen and then get caught
I always made it back home fifty miles
of eating berries or nothing at all..
just to be sent back again.

Delila after dark..this was then...
you were a tender Ronnie and
I was a boy of twelve..with no
moss or beard..
and my parts even then were coveted
by others as well..

This is my confession for them..
Donna Black...H.C.S.D.
Doing this to us was what..........and
where is Gary Anderson?

What could a child, 'i have done back then
but i tried, as
One group of five made up of tens.
Form: Bio

A Mountain Man's Tale, Part Vii

VII.
Reid’s eyes widened with the realization,
she was with child? How long had she known?
His mind reeled and more men gathered outside,
by this time his cover had been long blown.

He glanced down upon red Wolf struggling,
then at the woman who haunted his dreams,
forced to chose between revenge or his love,
just minutes ago so simple it seemed.

He glanced at Mink, and she looked back at him,
said, “If you will spare him, I will go with you.
Take me and our child far from this place,
just please do not do what you came to do.”

Red Wolf argured back, speaking in Cheyenne,
traded words with both his daughter and wife,
then Mink said,”He says he will let me go,
that I bring shame to his lodge and his life.

“He says we should both ride away quickly,
that if we do so he’ll delay the chase.
He says a whore daughter is bad enough,
but bearing your son makes me a disgrace.”

Tears streamed down her face as she said the words,
her mother joined in with an acid tounge,
Reid felt something break through his burning rage,
asked, “Do you truly carry my little one?”

When Mink nodded, he pushed Red Wolf forwards,
keeping his knife at the neck of the chief,
the whole band stayed back as they walked through the camp,
Mink ran ahead and two horses did seek.

She mounted first, Reid pushed Red Wolf away,
leapt on a horse and away they did sprint,
the two kept riding for hours that night,
pushing their mounts through second and third winds.

Red Wolf, it seemed, kept his word to the two,
no pursuit was launched by the Cheyenne braves,
but Reid knew now he could never go home,
he had failed to get revenge for the raid.

In the end he took her to the white world,
back to the people he’d not known since youth,
and I see from your looks that you have doubts,
but what I’m telling you is the plain truth.

I know because my father told it to me,
of how he came to Kansas with his squaw,
I was not that child, I came later,
Mink made Gray Fox ten times over a pa.

He doesn’t talk about it all that much,
most of the details mother told to me,
but when he does, a look comes to his eyes,
a look that’s haunting too all who might see.

It’s not that he regrets moving out here,
he’s lived a life that is worthy and full,
but sometimes I think, when he gets like that,
he regrets not slaying that damn Red Wolf.
Form: Epic

President Trump International Fire Chief

Our dear leader
Our favorite President
President Trump
Once again

Interjected himself
Into areas that he knows nothing about
Making a fool of himself 
In the process

Why does he do this?
Time after time
Talking nonsense
It is because

He is the smartest man
In the universe
Knows more than anyone else
And so he feels

He has to comment
On everything
Under the sun
And then some more

Even when he 
Does not know 
What he is talking about
So painful to watch such a fool

Mark Twain had sage advice
If you want people to think 
You are a fool
Open your mouth 
and remove all doubt

In the midst 
Of the devastating Paris Norte Dame Fire
He tweeted 

“So horrible to watch the massive fire 
at Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris,”

“Perhaps flying water tankers 
could be used to put it out. 
Must act quickly!”

Later, Mr. Obvious noted, 

They’re having a terrible, 
terrible fire,” 

Mr Trump later told reporters. 

“It looks like it’s burning to the ground.”

The French were not amused
By the unwanted advice
By the fire fighter in chief 

France’s civil defense agency, 
Sécurité Civile, tweeted — 
once in French 
and once in English 
— less than two hours after Mr Trump 

sent his tweet 
and appeared 
to directly respond to the US president.

“Helicopter or aeroplane, 
the weight of the water 
and the intensity of the drop 
at low altitude 

could indeed weaken 
the structure of Notre Dame 
and result in collateral damage 
to the buildings in the vicinity,” 

the agency wrote in French.
And despite never posting updates in English, 
the agency then sent out a second tweet.

Hundreds of firemen of the Paris Fire Brigade are doing everything they can to bring the terrible #NotreDame fire under control. All means are being used, except for water-bombing aircrafts which, if used, could lead to the collapse of the entire structure of the cathedral.
— Sécurité Civile Fr (@SecCivileFrance) April 15, 2019

And the French provided
This helpful advice 
To the Fire Fighter in chief

When California burned 
you did not seem to be a fire expert.
 Please, shut up. 
It is a tragic moment 
for the cultural heritage of humanity.
 
april 17 poem for April Month of Poetry Challenge see Writers Digest, All Poetry and my blog, https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com for the rest
© Jake Aller  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Concrete


Pleasant Spring Like Day January 12th, 2020

Pleasant spring like day January 12th, 2020

Courtesy climate change
(think global warming),
I would never wish to exchange
unseasonable temperature
way out of range
far to balmy, undoubtedly
ole man winter
weather did shortchange.

Once thermometer readings rise
even smidgen one moost not minimize
Earth way out of balance,
I haint gonna catastrophize
as bajillion acres plus

one after another ocean dries
even the skeptic cannot turn
blind eye and believe contrary lies
when every species practically extinct
and self proclaimed éminence grise

doth trumpet and stubbornly tries
to claim plethora unearthed resources
as sudden goldmine
against wages of sin
former traitor joe redeemers actualize

to catalyze nth industrial revolution
teaching as heresy
ecocentric, which material basket
of deplorables power mongers bowdlerize

Concurrence toward meteorological
trend most all people agree
toward adapting, experiencing,
and witnessing increase -

fair in height degree
bestowed upon Thomas Newcomen,
Richard Arkwright, Samuel Crompton,
Edmund Cartwright
and James Watt first Industrial

Revolution conferred as honoree
appellation not necessarily
in retrospect donned as noble pedigree,
now hundred of years

later downside we see
of belching, coughing,
disorging... yes siree
foul, (née deadly)
cancerous, gaseous, noxious... pollutants.

Decreased dissension 
grudgingly did abate
unclouded protests trumpet
Trump to abdicate
irrefutable proof generates
activist voices to accumulate
linkedin over Green Party 
blessedly to administrate

hoop fully figurative tide
will turn and aerate
political atmosphere whereby
progressive minds will affiliate
otherwise business as usual,
cuz spewing deadly particulate
will only aggravate
dire straits, where series

of unfortunate events will airdate
prophetic apocalyptic fate
especially if nonprogressive
stodgy commander in chief re-elected
flush with bigotry and hate
increased chance (chants) ripe state
for revolution avast swath
of population to amalgamate,

and overthrow anachronistic government
absolute zero survival unless dramatic
nondestructive strategy eschewed
to supplant exploitation and mandate
radical transformation, which dramatic
shift off grid if lucky requisite
Earth friendly manufacturing
can possibly ameliorate.

South of the United States Border

South Of The (United States) Border...
(Reigns A Welter Of Disorder)

Caravans comprising multitudinous
     peoples plodded a steady course
analogous to iron filings drawn by
     strong magnetic force
gravitational pull generated

     by North America
     an irresistible source,
which tug felt
     nearly all the way round
     webbed wide world beckoning

     for waves of humanity
figuratively donned as spawning fish,
toward which currently dimming
     beacon of democracy flickr
     Trump might extinguish

though tis quite heart
     breaking to experience
vicariously as one collective soul,
     these desperate folks
ambitious to seek asylum,

     (and eventual citizenship),
     while this "FAKE" president
     invents many a...holy SMOKES
outrageous, nefarious, and malicious
     dagger o type cruel barbed wire

accusing, condemning, and emasculating,
     (I could continue),
     but ye dear reader would tire
unless individuals 
     affected by xenophobia

     countenance same stance
     as Commander in Chief,
     or contrariwise some
     like minded 
     thinkers, rack coon sitter
the migrant situation dire,

     would effectively serve me
     as preaching to
     the Unitarian choir,
yet any sensate 
     person must admit
tis quite upsetting, lamenting,

     and agonizing to witness
     hordes of persons treated like
     some pestilential 
     eyesore dagnabbit,
yes this chap can
     endlessly spout flibbertigibbet,

though thee crux of my opinion,
     inspires a poem express
     sing supportive emotions
     particularly acknowledging,
     how these masses (thousands)

     of vulnerable individuals
show true grit,
nonetheless yours truly,
     would be hard pressed
     for an immediate

     humane solution to corral
this extensive kit
and caboodle, though this generic guy
with a poetic knack
shakes his noggin

watching armed flack
delivered from border patrol agents/
United States military, lack
restraint, and who outright attack
trespassers at point

     blank range that pack,
a deadly (Judge Judy ish
     huss) punch smack
king young ones
     upside the head forcing

everyone to backtrack
to their homeland of
     persecution by crack
headed gang members, which thugs
     violently land a deadly whack!
Form: Ballad

Send Mephistophelian Madman Back To Stone Age

Impossible mission, nonetheless
eschatological, diabolical, critical...
dire straits betokens armageddon.

Come Tuesday, November 3, 2020
mandatory voting obligation to oust
horrible malevolent commander in chief.

Spanish and English writing on border wall
bespeaks impending apocalyptic windfall
weapons of mass destruction concomitant ashfall
brinkmanship ticks doomsday clock, hence the call
muster civilians and military troops coup to marshall
tuckered bands overthrowing pathological 
megalomaniac haint your
homegrown garden variety apprenticed screwball,

Née commandeer of human abuses free world oh God
this exclamation ejaculated yours truly house atheist
runs ruinously, reprehensibly, rampantly roughshod
scaring out bejesus within winkin blinkin and nod
land of powdermilk biscuits and raw bits promises
to become ground zero predicated boneheaded clod.

Atrocious, cantankerous, egregious,
grievous, ignominious... dispensing
most every venerated, ushered, touted,
sacred, revered, pronouncing
progressive amendments dead
on arrival blithely shredding to tatters

hard won reforms since Fred
Flintstone days of yore shelving
codied, ratified, sanctified... shed
jeweled important legislation,
plus Russian musk cows to wed
Putin on the ritz.

Blasphemous, cantankerous, deleterious...
execrable folly... doth seed
subsequently begetting and breed
anarchy, chaos, hell, plus helps
foment pernicious, ominous,
noxious, malodorous... misdeed

pitting one against another creed
internecine warfare, where liveried
troops don and trumpet 
(auld) alternative energy
fighting gear powering, i.e. ac/dc freed
one or more dirty deed

done dirt cheap reducing at lightspeed,
the hard fought/won democratic
inalienable rights purportedly guaranteed
by United States constitution,
(though oft times bias, i.e. reed

anti semitism, charade, facade...) heed
trample equality, morality, universality...
making mockery (attested bleed
courtesy flagrant historical extant bigotry,
chicanery, depravity... greed).

Hence, I step off figurative soapbox
dodging any lobbed missiles or rocks
no surprise bullied by same jocks,
who tormented me during high school
probably tattooed, pierced, and bald of locks
unlike yours truly, he sports self
as aging pencil neck geek
wearing non matching shoes and socks.

Before the Gates of Alahsar - Original Version - 5

5.

Utamol takes his bloody fill,
tasting life's wine, never still,
Dark Man in majestic motion,
hate-filled passion, his chief emotion.
War played in an ancient way,
a horror too all, who fight this day,
yet all who escape this misery,
shall ever call this carnage glory.

The battle, not lost, yet not won,
Dark Man and Tigress fighting on,
all mortals hard into the fray,
Turvehr fights on in majesty.
life so simple, shall it be gone?
will all this death, be worth a song?
the day that mortals did not surrender,
before the gates of Alahsar.

Now a change has come about,
the enemy halted, there comes a shout,
"Look out! our golden arrows come,"
the Goddess Athena.s fire begun.
A rain of golden death on the bloody plain,
ne'er see its like ever again,
two mighty hero's, Dark and Gold, 
fashioned from eternal warrior mold.

Athena races, golden chariot alive with light,
a wonder of great glory too mortal sight,
Athena and her minions, they come on the run,
with blood-letting in mind, they gladly come.
Charging in upon the left, Arlaghs fall before the wheel.
Sword of truth, Oh, splendid, shining steel,
in the hands of the sun's divinity,
the Goddess Athena gains her glory this day.

Beasts a-plenty, break and run,
Utamol, now having fun,
gains great glory, Heaven knows,
blade of vengeance, blood-like rose.
Dark Man holding light the blade,
dead and dying before them laid,
never finding peace, living or dead,
love's wondrous plain, now bloody red.

Still. Arlagh does not run,
fighting on, till life is done,
Athena shining, in her own, inner light,
warrior of Gods, up for the fight.
push, push, ever onward,
always carry battle forward,
battle sounding forever loud,
dead and dying together, battle's sorrowful crowd.

On the flanks, still archer's fire,
striking home with hate's desire,
Fight goes on and all fight brave,
blood the mortar, bodies the pave.
On and on, the hate goes on,
surely there shall be a song,
of all that happened this mighty day,
Before The Gates Of Alahsar, so far away.

Then an arrow comes in fast,
the Dark Man, he is struck at last,
arrow sinks deep in his chest,
shall this be his final test?
Arlaghs, no more in retreat, 
stopping now on balls of feet,
Dark Man now upon his knee,
the Tigress', sad eyes they see.

To Be Continued............
Form: Epic

Just In Case You Wondered

Just in case you wondered...

Yours truly, (i.e. I) quickly
became hypnagogic afore
subsequently segueing soundly
into autohypnosis booklore,
while binge reading courtesy

regarding aptitude chore
treasure trove books galore
five dollars as many
paginated fictitious stories ('bout deplore
hubble basket cases) fit into authorized bag
infernal challenge sifting evermore

alum skid more or less
bending and reaching skyhigh
toe tilly (ejaculating
what the heel) footsore
compromising writing, rather heretofore
indulging insatiable knowledge

(surpassing narcotic fix),
the world wide web hide ignore
engrossed various and sundry
enchanting, kickstarting, and revelling - bonjour
dear reader buzzfeeding...

Till chief hankering
(regarding appeasing passionate
word loving aficionado,
albeit temporarily ceased
(think intellectual fancy feast)

getting imagination (mine) linkedin
outspeeding lightning greased
experiencing cerebral capacity increased
virtual make believe
terra incognita leased.

insatiable jabberwocky yen
countless hours elapsed when
inconvenient wont head sleep
wracked courtesy (bowling) ten

pins nabbed mettlesome ambulation
often found me - hen (pecked) hex pen
sieve dishabille scattered brained brute
somnambulant analogous awake burning ken
kindled smoldering cognitive tinder even...

Chilly cooling off, where
temporal lobed hiatus taken
beefing portfolio in effort to scare
back poetic proclivity despite near
severe withdrawal symptoms
reacquainting novelty here
with effort to jog capacity
to craft poem quite aware...

Unsuspecting readers breathed
sigh of relief interim joker I went absent
posting trademark gobbledygook,
now unnamed fool rushes in,
where angels fear to tread - nay cent

return of native son unequivocally, pinterestingly
digitally... afore written dive versification
brandishing said as unsung literary event
psalm time sacrilegious Jew bull gent
bringing entertainment intent
to thee anonymous

analogously, humorously, and parenthetically
lamely affecting (i.e. poorly emulating)
Shakespearean belles lettres,
perhaps coronavirus pathogen
t'will cut me down, whereby

microbial size Clark Kent,
whoops twas Lois Lane I meant
to empower one meek and obedient
primate even during
but, and, or conjunctive
rutting season quiescent.

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