Long Columbus Poems
Long Columbus Poems. Below are the most popular long Columbus by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Columbus poems by poem length and keyword.
Contest: The Power of Fiction
Sponsor: Natasha Scaagg
Written: 091026 2:35PMCST
I am not a fan of novels, but there
Are two that arrested, held, and compelled
Me to ride along and feel the thoughts and
emotions that the writer portrayed in the book.
One novel was about the French Revolution.
This second novel was about the westward
movement. It painted the portrait of the settlers
And their bold treak across what would become
America. It was dangerous and all consuming.
I could feel their determination to succeed.
I could sense within my own heart that
They felt that failure was not an option;
Not just because of them and their cause,
But for the generations that were to follow.
Their story was filled with intrigue and hope.
Their story was also my story; one of just
enough success to keep them moving forward.
Foes like weather, landscape, and indians were
Plentiful. Courage was the only friend that
I saw and felt inside of those trail blazers.
It's as if the newly discovered world
That Columbus saw was not large
Enough for the new settlers from Europe.
So, they sought survival and a new life by
Heading west, seeking new settlements in a
Foreign land; a land that could be hell; Or it
Could be heaven, depending on who survived
And how. This quest drove them Clear across
To the Pacific Ocean.
But as I continued to read, I felt the pain;
The pain as if a never ending story of
Sickness, death, diseases, and wars.
They were constantly plagued with
Church corruption, Government overkill.
Romance and interpersonal relationships.
I felt the emotions in choices of evil.
I felt the pain of mankind's inabilities,
Not to see eye to eye, but to coexist.
Many are the worries of the heart
But love calms it down
There comes a time when the heart bleeds
It worries greater than the ocean tides
A journey that begins with worries
Takes the heart to a village of trauma
All it problems comes like ferries
Only if it chooses the drama
But what can you say about the heart?
An image of it always represented by love
If you choose to work this track
You must love and give it your all
The heart is where emotions build
Be it stories of lovely glories
It may give it's sign as a shield
Many battles have been fought in joy and sorrows
We should take care of the heart
Sing it a hymn and a lullaby
Get drunk with joy as an addiction
This is all the heart needs as days goes bye.
I was the one among us
Who had my fate sealed in Columbus
When my girlfriend announced she was with child
Not yet legal as a drinker
I was buying diapers for a stinker
While my friends were still sowing their oats wild
I pulled myself up by the ears
Graduated in three years
And started working in an office nine to five
With my peers still drunk and stupid
I was paying the price to Cupid
Doing what it took to just survive
Instead of hiking ‘round Europe
I was measuring formula syrup
Knowing there were things I could do never more
I kept pushing the baby stroller
Each year growing five years older
Having forgotten the dreams I had before
When I felt sorry for my life’s lot
I looked in the eyes of my little tot
And saw such trust and love upon her face
It was right then and there
That I finally became aware
My journey had led me to the right place
I no longer missed the life I had
Just being a Daddy made me glad
The sacrifices I had to make I easily did
And as the years passed us by
I thanked the gods up in the sky
For blessing me as a young man with a kid
In a dream, beneath Columbus' watchful gaze,
Where the capitol’s dome with the blue heavens waltz,
Strolling alongside the Governor, in harmonious ways,
Our footsteps chanced upon the city's hidden vaults.
Dusk beckoned, a murmur urging us to roam,
Cleveland, my home, through the fantasy did thread,
First adrift, then guided by heart back home,
A train missed, the voyage's lament, a path of dread.
Another locomotive, with heartbeats encased in metal's hold,
My briefcase and luggage, on the platform abandoned in the frost,
A conductor’s poetic words, let go of your baggage, be bold,
Tales of life's loads, and the art of releasing what's lost.
Halted, the train on destiny's meticulously drawn line,
A voyage through life, where loss and blessing entwine,
At every halt, a lesson, an opportunity to align,
Where dreams and reality, over time, combine.
Methinks all antediluvian Love was
Whiter than snows atop higher tors;
And with more troth dudes did kiss
Purer maidens for pleasanter bliss.
I deem Art shortly after Noah’s Ark
To have been of better-spun spark;
And bards of far more sublime quill
Did indite with stouter metered skill.
Niftier lines which Columbus hymned,
On virgin voyages to terrains deemed
By soil-tilling mortals uninhabited yet;
Such ditties do dim both fear and fret.
Tighter Calvary Faith as Bunyans
Prisoners fell in Hades' vile plans,
Wet-toweling martyrs' spirits bold,
Felt saltier with truer saints of old.
Daintier Oratory and Polemics alike
Did with indeed finer Lincolns spike;
Notches less finessed minions today,
Such steadily sorrier contrasts betray.
Byzantium
In August, the heat tastes of dust and desperation
the despot feels that soon a time will change
the power is but in the eyes of the general
The sun senses a mounting revolt, is prepared
will show no mercy but absorb the world in its inner core
where we can burn forever.
August is tired too, he the General gave them a lovely spring
and now the riff-raff is turning against him
The mighty oak tree whispers to the lesser trees about sedition
talks about democracy.
Stubbornly the sun hangs on, till battle clouds like warships
appear at the horizon.
His reign drowns in torrential rain downpour that will
destroy his life´s work.
You see it in the old movies,
when Indians come into play,
somebody calls them,”savages,”
and it seems to fry people’s brains.
They flip out, demand censorship,
know nothing of real history,
can’t empathize with either side,
to see how that all came to be.
It’s obvious that most regret
how things happened in these past times,
and they’re not wrong to regret that,
it isn’t that hard to go find
broken treaties and agreements,
politicians playing their games,
most wish that things had gone better,
but history never can change.
Yet this does not change stubborn fact,
and looking back it is well seen
that some things the Indians did
were barbarous to the extreme.
Ritual torture was practiced
on captives by most of the tribes,
and done long before Columbus
ever had the new world in sight.
Like burning people at the stake,
or things that were much more foul,
like tying intestines to trees,
forcing souls to self-disembowel.
Making people run the gauntlet,
to be beaten by hard-swung staffs,
make it through and you might be safe,
if you didn’t…well, that was that.
Now by any modern standards
this is savage, that much is fact,
but honestly, were they alone
when you take the time to look back?
Europe had its iron maidens,
and the rack in medieval days,
and the Turks once were infamous
for leaving many captives flayed.
The Japanese in World War II
treated captives like they were trash,
Britain used to ‘blow out the guns,’
for your sake, please, don’t look up that.
Islamists rape and mutilate
in ways that would leave you disturbed,
and savage Chinese socialists
do awful things to the Uighurs.
But somehow, in this PC age,
we give the Indians a pass,
try to forget what they once did,
this really does strike me as bad.
No people should be above sin,
we see our mistakes from our scars,
to stay at peace none can forget,
must understand all that we are.
It’s important the we know this,
noble savage myths do no good,
especially since we’d forget
if there was a way that we could.
This evil lurks in all mankind,
and it should leave us all non-plussed,
Were the Indians savages? Yes…
but no more than the rest of us.
JAY TOWNSEND JOHNSON HENRY AKA JOY Y JONES THIS IDENTITY THIEF BEGAN STEALING MY IDENTITY AFTER HER TWISTED AFFAIR WITH MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND AND PETER GARGANO THE ABUSE ESCALATED AFTER THIS IDENTITY THEFT ARRIVED WITH HER JAMAICAN GUNMAN TO END MY LIFE HOME INVASIONS THREATS I FINALLY SUFFERED A TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY FROM A CAR BOMB IGNITING IN MY FACE THIS WAS WHEN SHE REALLY BECAME OBSESSED WITH MY MARRAIGE COMMITING HOME INVASIONS RIPPING MARRAIGE CERTIFICATES SHOT RECORDS PASSPORTS OBITUARIES OF DECEASED LOVED ONES I FINALLY DIVORCED MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND AND REMARRIED TO MY SURPRISE MY STALKER BEGAN HOME INVASIONS AGAIN IT WASN'T LONG BEFORE SHE BEGAN ACTUALLY FALSIFYING MARRIAGE CERTIFICATES OF A DECEASED WOMAN FROM THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN ORDER TO DINE WITH PETER GARGANO WITH THE KNIGHTS OF COLUMBUS AN UNHOLY HORROR UPON DECEASED CATHOLICS MY FAMILY SURVIVED HER IDENTITY THEFT FALSIFYING DOCUMENTS J2 ACN HELPING ILLEGAL IMMIGRANTS TO RECIEVE ILLEGAL CITIZENSHIP WORK VISA SCHOOL VISA IN AMERICA BY FALSIFYING MARRIAGE CERTIFICATES OF DECEASED PERSONS ITS TRULY HORRIFYING GETTING MARRIED IN THE CATHOLIC CHURCH THIS FRAUD AGAINST THE DECEASED RIGHT NEXT DOOR THE OFFICE OF IMMIGRATION WHERE THE FALSIFIED DOCUMENTS CAN BE FAXED THROUGH AMSCOT TOOTSIE ROLL DRIVES PERSONS OF POWER SELLING MARRAIGE CERTIFICATES OF THE DECEASED TO JAMAICAN IMMIGRANTS MEXICAN IMMIGRANTS TOTAL DISREGARD TO ACTUAL DEATH CERTIFICATES SADLY MANY OTHER NATIONALITIES IMMIGRANTS BUYING SELLING TRADING CATHOLIC MARRAIGE CERTIFICATES OF THE DECEASED OBITUARIES I FEEL TRULY BLESSED MY HUSBAND AND I DECLINED TO EVEN BE MARRIED IN THE CATHOLIC CHURCH WE CHOSE TRUTH JUSTICE AND PEACE IN THE COURT HOUSE PROTECTED FROM IDENTITY FRAUD AT THE CHURCH WHERE GARGANO CONTROLLED COMPLETE WRATH FAKING HIS DEATH HACKING INTO OBITUARIES I APPLAUD TRUMP ON THIS ISSUE MY FAMILY SURVIVED SEVERE IDENTITY FROM FROM JAMAICAN MEXICAN IMMIGRANTS
GOD BLESS AMERICA
Shrilling seagulls spreading broad wings
are bound for another flight into infinity;
unlikely us who perceive fear and adversity,
they know how to conquer boundaries:
and as soon as daybreak begins, they don't wait
but venture further than hazy horizons
with a straight line that guides navigators
on their trail until they vanish from limited sight.
Was Columbus or Vespucci more fearless than bold seagulls?
Didn't they defy storms and pushed forward to match their grit?
Their zest for discovery never threw them into irrational wit;
they goal was to project a vison and turn it into daydreams.
Had there been voluptuous women to weaken their quest,
there would have been none to behold other than deep regret;
and unlikely us who fall for shallow desires and accomplish little:
we ignore seagulls and navigators that are brave and yet fragile.
I remember the day I was invited
By the guys from "El Conejo" Ranch in Columbus, Ohio (USA)
To participate in the thousand and one orgasms
That a certain Erin, a resident whore, was going to receive
Who was very hot
So that I could reach the bar that was at nine hundred
Achieved by a different whore.
I wanted to prepare myself and go well
Like a real man
That's why I invited a couple of friends
To the "Zafiro" motel-brothel in Burgos
So they could give their opinion on me
If I was in good shape.
They both slept with whores
I couldn't please mine
Nor dishonor her dishonored a thousand times over.
She laughed at my
And stuck her tongue out at me.
As I told her while I was trying to her
That I was going to Ohio, Columbus (USA)
To have sex with a renowned whore
She burst out laughing, mocking me, saying:
-But where are you going, you simpleton
With this mini trebuchet, this little slingshot
This sperm-launcher
To besiege a Mount of Venus
Of a used whore?
Your is like Greek fire
That sets the besieged ablaze
And only shoots white balls of sperm
That break into a thousand pieces
When they hit the lips.
I'm telling you the truth:
-Forget about going to Ohio, Columbus (USA)
Because you're not going to pass the test
Because you're not the right size.
But you can come see me whenever you want
Because my enjoys you
And I won't charge you more than the cost of a drink.
If I didn't start crying
It's because my two friends came over
Seeing me already dressed
With the face of a defeated and submissive man.
Seeing me in such a sad state, they asked me:
-But how did it go?
-Badly, I answered.
I decided not to go to Ohio
Because I'm not good enough to sleep with
A beautiful and renowned whore.
Look at my little trebuchet, my little trebuchet
That serves as my witness
And this whore I've been with
With her eyes has been witness
That I'm not good enough
And she's the one who convinced me.
In the coldness of the moment
My two friends shuddered
Starting to cry with me
Because my little trebuchet sad and faded
Couldn't water flowers or lilies
And much less a renowned pussy.
Meanwhile, in the background
The whore I'd been with was smiling
Because she'd tasted the scent of the bud
Without having swallowed it.