Long Citadel Poems
Long Citadel Poems. Below are the most popular long Citadel by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Citadel poems by poem length and keyword.
I hail thee ruins of Indus Vale!
With scented rhyme, with scented gale
Come on from world of mortal dead!
O come and lively wind inhale!
More ancient than the pyramids
That rule on ancient Egypt land
Thy wild wild eyes, with thy soft lids
They gazed on shimmering Indus sand
I will inhale thy breath in breath
O harken me from vale of death
(11)
I mount uphill, Thy citadel
And stood for hours Stony still
I saw minarets there in row
They fail and bow, all in thy woe
O stupa speak! from yonder peak!
Thy all worshippers where they go
In fog , in sun, while needles run
Thou standing lone in midst of woe!
I haven't seen a single soul
They faded all in mist and snow
Oh lonesome temple don't be sad
They will come and I vow they will
In evening smiles , my heart beguiles
Thy silver meads lay several miles
Thy rich forests of days of yore
Thy ancient seals and gods and kings
O life stop thou, O time come back
In courts I hear the bell that rings
Oh let me breathe, let me for while
Oh fortune for once for me smile
(111)
O lower town, Why thou breakdown
Thy aging speed , may thou slow down
Thy tourists standing by thy sides
All talking of the Times and tides
Thy rooms and wards, o nature yard
All tied devotees thine with cord
They want to dwell in heart of thine
They come and stand and for thee pine
O may phantoms of bygone time
Tell stories them in tune and rhyme
With help and love of Eden Lord
Whose seraphs are thy meadows guard
( ...)
O whistling toys, of girls and boys
In graves of stone why heave thou sighs
O happy ruins with face so fair
From thousand centuries slept thou there
Forgotten by the madding race
Then thou begot a heart sincere
Who wake thee from thy beauty sleep?
From fathoms deep wherest thou live
Wherest thou sob and moan and weep!
I pay homage to Cunningham
Who found thee there in seven three
Then came thy lover Daya Ram
Who thee from heaps of mud set free
Thy lips of ice, why not rejoice
Thou gaze this world with wild wild eyes
(...)
Thy fowls thy sheep, lie half asleep
In meadow green in forest deep
Thousands and thousands years passed by
My far off sky , he smiled he weep
When from thy beauteous Indus plains
The robbers carried thy remains
Thy ancient bricks, all gems of past
Continued
Found the G.E.C.K and a genius super mutant named Fawkes
It's the lone wanderer, were their truly any doubts
On his way back, the enclave stun him cold
It's the lone wanderer, they must truly be bold
He wakes up to the face of the man that murdered his father and his dream
The lone wanders promises to severe the head from this fiend
They made a mistake and set him free
He lets off some steam and goes on a killing spree
Hoping to find the fiend, instead he finds a computer
It claimed to be president Eden, the leader of the future
The lone wanderer couldn't believe the stupidity
It gave him the F.E.V virus and claimed it was the best for humanity
The lone wanderer then remembers he found a self-destruct code
He told president Eden he was a whole
Laughing while he activates It's self-destruct mode
Running and gunning to his P.I.P boy radio
Listening to 'Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy' to fit the scenario
Turning Enclave soldiers into mashed potatoes
By the time he escaped the count down hit zero,
The lone wanderer stood in the background looking like a hero
Reunited with the genius super mutant Fawkes
They now have matching toys to take back to the house
Deciding to stick together for a noble cause,
They return to the Citadel after unloading a few hundred shots
The Brother Hood Of Steel commended them and gave them a round of applause
Time now to suit up and release a giant robot
'Now we take back the purifier!', Cried Sarah Lyons
'Take everything you can because only Enclave shall be dying'
The lone wanderer refuses their power armor and instead pulls out his Gatling gun
Him and Fawkes bump guns and are already for some fun
They rush through the gate behind the giant robot shooting a vertibird out of the sky
Running through the carnage seeing Talon mercs pass by
Barging through the front door of Jefferson's memorial
Spraying Enclave soldiers in a effortless tutorial
Beams from vengeance making clean incisions
Rapid is its fire with precise precision
Even if the lone wanderer had no vision
Fawkes and him could easily wipe out colonel Autumn's entire division
Now approaches colonel Autumn's final hour,
Without hesitation the lone wanderer draws his sword with power
Striking colonel Autumn dead and sour
Before his head rolls into the water,
The lone wanderer convinces Fawkes to play a little soccer
Energy found its way through the rigorous
rigamarole of trial and error of those persistent
like the Wright Brothers, the Curies, or Thomas
Edison, and others. The close failures were consistent.
At the time, based on their hypothesis
that it will benefit all living-kind existent.
Yet they were all clueless to the vigorous
negativity that their inventions will be hell-bent.
The electric chair, countless deaths by accidental
electrocution, then the military plane that dropped
the atomic bombs, first on Hiroshima's citadel
by using devices onboard for their best opt
to maximize deaths. Also, Nagasaki being critical.
The Atomic bombs were both propped
with radioactive properties that were essential.
Ergo, good and bad are clarified when mopped.
Since the beginning of human history,
entropy played a significant part
that affected borderlines, racial sophistry
another open flesh wound of the heart
as fanatism occupied and warped the symmetry
of religion and segregates, faiths impart
brained the clueless first via chemistry
until Tsar Bomba took the chart.
The atmospheric conditions are codependent
with temperature. Barometric condition affects
weather and health that are both consistent
as one trails a single value that projects
air quality being as effective and existent
ergo, temperature gauges the fall and rise as subjects
and cannot separate themselves as self-dependents
so they're not polarized, but affectionate objects.
A preposterous venture to entertain as the last phase
of the Three Laws. The First and Second Laws were
easily fathomed, yet the Third, like dots in a maze
became blank when they didn't link keeping the stir
as the only constant having left my mind in a haze
being kerfuffle and not stifled, the informed concur
casting doubts as temperature measures my mind strays
returns a better me. I deduced 'twas by an amateur.
First Law: Energy cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed or transferred (conservation of energy).
Second Law: Entropy, a measure of disorder, always increases in a closed system.
Third Law: As the temperature of a system approaches absolute zero, the entropy of the system approaches a constant minimum.
I chose "NFC", Not For Contest, due to my drawn conclusion, sadly truth became the judge.
My Beloved,
My fervent Solemn passion
My LOVE bound to you
My Darling, I am entirely thine
As kindling in pure Formidable flame
My Beloved, My precious love
My better self,
If the moment of Immortality
Unveil to exist between us
I shalt whisper your Beloved name
As phantom of delight
Riveting as melodious
As mating birds
My Beloved,
My fervent Solemn passion,
Your elegance and beauty
As begotten rapturous vibrant
ebullient portrait of LOVE
As blissful birth of precious
glittering mother of pearl
Invigorating to purify
my tumultuous untamed heart
My Immortal Angel,
My Dearest LOVE
My Joyful Darling
My eyes, worships Your Eyes
In pure adoration
My eyes can NO longer
hide my addiction
My Immortal Beloved
The LOVE of sublimity,
Should I not let my eyes
become lit, before YOUR eyes
As my heart’s pupil of febrile eyes
Dives in your endless ocean
of LOVE to be drowned in ecstasy
My Beloved,
My fervent Solemn passion
My hunger has become a fain of fasting
My Darling,
Your Lips, a provocative budding beauty
which Loves to flaunts itself
shalt be my eternal
Adoring site of pilgrimage,
As my tender lips, as nourishing
As endless waves of ocean
can not resist rushing to wet
to rescue YOUR thirst of ecstasy
My Beloved,
My fervent Solemn passion,
Faithfullest heart,
My Love bound to you, As we stem
As rose garden of Elysium
As sweet scent of LOVE
Emanating from the blossoms
As our tender hands entangled
with Majestic Red Robe Of LOVE
As Our eyes wed
For moment of eternal serenity
to cast our Hearts net in endless
ocean of sublime ecstasy
to capture our own image of ONENESS
My Immortal Beloved
Sanctuary of Love, My Darling,
I am entirely Thine,
I clasp the hand of Love
As I clasp my body
As fortitude of Love
Against YOUR body,
The Citadel of Heaven,
As my lips penetrates the silence
to whisper tenderly in Thy Beloved ears;
I LOVE THEE,
As My hearts infinite tender majesty
Shalt illuminate the Devine promise of bliss
As it echoes in eternity,
As my heart decorate the tent of LOVE
My Beloved, My fervent
My Solemn passion,
My Darling, My precious one,
My soul exclaimed in delight jubilation
My Beloved LOVE
As I am fain to see THEE
in the Bethel of LOVE,
For Eternity
Forever Thine
Forever Ours
In the shadow of the night, when the wind weaves endless spells,
There you stand, eternal rock, at war with time itself.
The night, with its new moon voice, whispers to you its secrets,
And you, living stone, clench your soul in the citadel of mystery.
Dawn brings you serenades from the infinite, hails you undefeated,
Watching as the universe regains its voice,
In the dialogue of the wind, in the celestial solstices,
You hide your soul, a relic, in a smile stolen from unbound times.
From the depths, the past measures you with ash-filled gazes,
Holding within memories sealed in ancestral oblivion,
You remember how you unleashed dreams, letting the music of your heart reign,
And you rest your forehead in the palm of eternity, dressing in the garment of silence.
Listening to the whisper of the cold seasons,
Your fingers open the frozen chest of your ancient pain.
Your soul, caught between two worlds, in crystalline silence,
Counts your heart's steps on the thin path of time,
Turning your gaze upon yourself, seeking in the mirror of the present,
Examining your eyes, lost among the leaves of time.
The wind interweaves its song with your being,
You are the rock in the face of the storm, the stone in the temple of the night,
Dawn kisses your existence with promises of strength,
You are the power, carved in the heart of the world.
With your hand, you capture the wind, hold onto the rock of fate,
Turn yearning into beads of dew,
Seal the pain in the stone heart, crown it with oblivion,
Embrace the infinite, bind your soul to the sky,
Tie spring to your footsteps, lighting your path,
And you walk the road of life, weaving a song of freedom with your smile.
In the magic of the night, you rise, an unyielding rock,
In the embrace of silence, you are an unsolved sphinx,
And as dawn spills its light, you take on its courageous song,
Living statue, in a story where each step becomes mystical.
The wind becomes your companion, lighting the candles of hope,
You hide in stone an eternal fire, a trap for forgetting.
In your hands, you mold eternity,
And your heart, a tall tree, embraces the sky in rare harmony.
Thus, on the paths of life, fearless, with spring beneath your bare feet,
You step to the rhythm of an everlasting song, in a world where every moment is magical.
The largest part of this abandoned warehouse
for creative dilemma is still in the ash medium
from you reach.
Though you’ve part of this morning haze that won’t go unrecognized.
Now that we’ve finally managed to right away ahead of our views across the bridge, it seems that elsewhere you’ve made every effort to prove yourself with your wrongly right-minded people, an iota of one-dimensional news data will be at all our throats.
We taste our sweat.
I must leave you now.
Suddenly, I feel better.
That’s why you’re still a business man & that’s been at least 20 years.
You remember how they were treated with such suspicion of the rage surged up inside
& we can’t surmise what happened.
You know something about this result that surpassed my expectations.
This is a surplus land, a flash & one of those immaculate English smiles on the beetle-browed face.
That cultural shock we’ve had, we’ve covered from the rest of us
we’re determined never to surrender, we’ve plenty of those surges as well. This is just behind the beefy man. This is not a Russian-American exchange project.
It’s far too far from your surly waitress who’s bathing today at your place. I see it under surveillance
but the sewers burst again for the second time this season.
But you’re still the man who’s as slim as a teenager in old clothes
I can’t be very well leaving all the terms out. This is all there
with a lot of lines on the forehead. I maintain your coiffure for good. Remember you’re still a conscientious objector in a uniform, a colony of citadel, breathing, you get comeuppance at the end of the play. This isn’t too happy, if I may add. Kind of tired, you know?
...The heathen knew not of his approach
until his men exploded out of the hills.
The foe tried to give fight, but siege-lines broke
as Prince Larren pilled up the kills,
they were not a true match for his will.
Chaos descended, the battle now a route,
in the milling madness, Larren was singled out.
Cut off from his fellows, ten heathens advanced,
Larren knew he had no decent prospects.
He leapt on his horse, fled to a near hill,
where he prepared for whatever came next,
but by now the heathern horde was wrecked.
The ten who had followed, all now lay dead,
for the first time that day, Larren cleared his head.
Half the horde lay lifeless down on the field,
the other half fled across a river
that sat by the citadel, their western border,
its waters roiled, churned, and shivered
with the melt-off of a long winter.
Most who went in vanished under the waves,
few made it across to live another day.
Larren turned then, and he faced the hills,
racing thoughts running through his mind,
the battle was won, the kingdom was safe,
he decided then that it was his time
to claim a life far from the royal grind.
He rode into the forest, galloping clear,
it had to be done, though his brother would tear.
He found the old road that he knew so well,
and stopped by a cliff, high above a stream.
His stripped off his armor, tossed it away,
the water swallowing the metal’s gleam,
it fell away like a vanishing dream.
Should any find it they would come to think
that they’re great Prince Larren had drowned in the drink.
He continued on until he found the house,
his sons busy at play in the front.
He saw Seras walk out, her belly swollen,
large enough to account for six months,
at the mere sight of him she was stunned.
He tied up his horse, walked up to her side,
swept her into his arms as she started to cry.
“You shouldn’t be here, your wide will be mad,”
she said as she clung to him tight.
Said he,“She was Larren’s wife, but Larren is ‘dead.’
The man here has but one family and wife,
gold and riches aren’t worth that sort of strife.
From now on I am Burren, a plain forester,
since you can’t be a princess, I’ll be a prince no more...”
CONCLUDES IN PART IV
...In the capital a great feast was thrown
to welcome Larren back from the frontier.
Minstrels sang songs of his victories,
while they ate venison and drank beer,
the whole city thronged with good cheer.
But Larren was subdued in the feasting hall,
his betrothed sat across from him, haughty and tall.
Her name was Berice, a princess of the south,
quiet pretty but not the kindest around.
Her tongue was sharp, her manner aloof,
both in bed chambers and tournament grounds,
Sse saw this marriage as a great step down.
But Larren had a duty, and they were wed,
and went, cold and distant, to the marital bed.
Though the king praised this noble pairing,
and so did his great heir, the crown prince,
Larren found his wife a drain on his soul,
and hard to bear, ever for short stints,
of true affection, she showed not a hint.
She took to his bed only at fertile times,
to bear him an heir, with no love in her eyes.
To make matters worse, by the first month’s end
Great King Rael was beginning to flag.
A fever set in, yellow came to his eyes,
and his breath in great rasps did drag,
Larren spent weeks by the bedside of his dad.
When he passed on, Crown Prince Duhran rose,
he made Larren chief general, the bane of his foes.
Five months passed, and Larren’s misery grew,
no accolades or awards could assuage
the loneliness he felt, the true lack of love
sometimes drove him quite close to rage,
he began to look older than his age.
His brother, the king, said,”Take a mistress,”
Larren couldn’t say he’d already had the best…
Then a new foe arose in the far west,
encouraged by the death of King Rael.
They besieged the citadel Larren had held,
and committed crimes that were beyond the pale,
rape and slavery were their grisly tales.
Duhran sent Larren with all of the troops
to smash the heathen invaders for good.
Larren arrived, somewhat glad to be gone,
back doing something he knew quite well.
Gladder still was her to be free of his wife,
Though to others this truth would not tell,
not when battle raged at the citadel.
Once on the scene her surveyed the siege,
then lined up his troops, and charged to their relief…
CONTINUES IN PART III
Einstein Rolls the Dice
the paparazzi were all over Einstein
after he said make sure where the rope leads
before you kick over the chair
he wrote his own scripts now
Further Adventures in Archaeo-astronomy
tonight the constellation Vertigo
a place of no equilibrium
a hell of uterine contractions
even though his head was elfin
a little bone crushing ceremony
and you are out on bail
in an adorable subjective objective ruse
the beginning of a tale of envy and betrayal
you think science is pretty don't you
I didn't mean to hurt anyone went the 911 call
they finally brought him down with magnets
the meters were going purple
only minutes away from a fatal lap dance
that could blacken the portals of infinity
wizard artists awakened from a long sleep
out of the closet for the thousandth time
an army of derelict stockbrokers tried to stop them
but the obsidian blade plunged like a fang
and 73 virgin inflatable sex dolls
made obnoxious leaking air sounds
until all that was left was a talking skull
divulging sacrilege and anathema
flip the law of averages
and you are in the citadel
paradise being a system of payoffs
if existence has a face we're it
on the other side of the lens
the light is tricky in there
images fall feebly on the screen
but you can't have art without surprise
Al's life was now a gravitational anomaly
no plot no narrative no story
he was ready to sack a city
his Igor hissed let's asteroid the planet
but the mouse pad Ouija opened a channel
to the vortex of utter charm
and he stamped and splashed singing
through the sewers of humiliation
wearing his going to hell pants
with only a mother's love for protection
and thanks to the exponential growth rate
of his informative deformities
managed to lose all his pencils
somewhere between hand and ledger
unleashing pandemonium in all its ardor
being that his hands were missing fingers
most of them actually
lost in a departmental budget cut
left him all thumbs
it was a close shave but Earth was saved
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
There he stands outstretched arms that offer relief
Causing our weary hearts to yearn and strive for a little more.
Always a little more.
The glittering jewels of his bedazzled fingers ignite passions
Deeply buried within the recesses of our byzantine nature.
As He totters, tentatively, temptingly
Just within the grasp of our sight,
Just beyond the grasp of our fingers,
Try as we might.
With bandy legs he totters before us, leading that we may follow.
But how can one, being of sound mind, consummately adhere to the trail
Of one so detached from reality that he may be mocked as the village drunk?
This is the very worst of the evils and despair that has accosted our race
From the great perils of Jason and his golden fleece
Down to the travails of Igodo and his band.
Despair and excruciating agony assail the mind and body;
Despair encloses the mind in the daunting cage of its grasp
While agony racks the body to the height of despondency
Where you feel you definitely can feel no more and then you feel some more.
It is at this opportune moment that the worst begins;
The aching heart.
This metaphorical citadel of feelings and emotions begins a tumultuous overflow
Churning out bite after bite of sweet memory from the memory card of the body.
This is when he appears on the horizon, taking your tortured hands
And whispering words of optimism - barren optimism.
Knowledge is the apex of despair.
Looking up from the dark pits of anguish into the dim and waning
Light of hope that fills your fading sight and illuminates the heart.
The knowledge that there is no means of escape, no broom upon
Which one can fly to the blue moonlight like the famous wizards of
J. K. Rowling. This is truly what ties us down, what bellies our courage
And undermines our strength.
This however, does not advocate for the castigation of the bandy legged drunkard
He is the adrenaline that keeps us going
The stimulant that revitalizes our body and disincarcerates the mind
His faltering footsteps, the only life line to which we cling
That we might not lose ourselves to the maelstrom of horrors in this life.
Hope, our bandy legged tottering drunk.