Long Dungeons Poems
Long Dungeons Poems. Below are the most popular long Dungeons by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dungeons poems by poem length and keyword.
“Life ephemeral, death inevitable
Soul eternal, so dear heart, be free from fear”
Loving hearts entwined, tenderly holding hands in seeming eternity
A flicker in space, gong of death, rudely interrupting delusion reverie
Within the lucid dream, attachments first forged, then stolen by time
Knowing life as it is, though recognising transience, we are in denial
Plunged into dark dungeons of despondent despair our heart bleeds
Sunken vibrations of deep loneliness and anguish shrouds our being
We then shift perspective, looking inwards from the domain of silence
Recognising we all are God essence, eternal boundless bliss and light
In ambedo trance
Myriad images bemuse
Stupor veils the truth
Death akin to changing clothes
No one comes and no one goes
20-October-2021
Let's Mix It Up Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
(couplet, imagism, tanka)
The Fall of The Winter King
He had risen to power
fueled by a vicious and ruthless determination
to reclaim a lost throne.
His tactics had stunned the unsuspecting,
laid barren the fields,
blanketed the forest,
silenced the sounds of life itself.
A dictator, seeking no counsel,
accepting no offers of surrender,
driven by the desire to destroy
the kingdom that had usurped his throne.
Rumors spread of a daring bud – sprouting -
a tune hummed by the imprisoned trees
adrift on the whipping winds of war
in defiance of the heartless king.
A call to arms sounded
by the most gentle, the most delicate.
The first acts of open rebellion,
The resounding crack of the ice jamb
the aching roar of the river’s rage
surging over its banks
awakening those still held captive.
Slowly the insurrection took root
buds gathered in hidden clusters,
trees quietly bloomed
muffling the screeching gales,
offering safety to bands of rebels.
Flocks of warblers met -
feathered archers - hurling their
darting arrows against the glare
of a cold king’s horror.
Sweet grasses spread across
the brown, despoiled fields -
a verdant gauntlet tossed in the face of dread.
Flowers crept from thawing dungeons
waving their colors,
swarms of banished pollinators
followed the call to duty.
The ebb and flow of battle -
frosted retreats,
clandestine sunrise maneuvers.
The resurgence of heart,
the growing hope of warmth.
As memory of the chilled repression
faded preparation was made
to receive the beauty and bounty
of a new and peaceful King.
John G. Lawless
1/11/2015
For SKAT’s Winter’s End – Poetry Contest
I took a long drive down to Harbinger Row
Where the grass is all dead and the flowers won't grow
Where the people and their pets are now long gone
And an icy cold wind whispers till the dawn
On certain nights you can hear the spirits cry
Under a pale-blue moon or a blood-red sky
They suffer and anguish for all that they've lost
Their hearts have run cold like a cold Winters frost
Their souls are so twisted, dark, vile and deep
Where the air has grown foul and the dead never sleep
Devoid of all light, all mercy, all love
They spit out their anger on the living above
Now standing alone beneath a blood-red sky
A figure in the distance soon caught my eye
He came into focus but then disappeared
But I still felt his presence as his spirit neared
He spoke to me then in a voice soft and low
What brings you down here where the flowers won't grow
Is it fortune or fame or knowledge you seek
What brings you down here from the land of the weak
You'll find no diamonds, gems, or ingots of gold
All you'll find today Boy are hearts that run cold
And of all the dead hearts, mine's the coldest of all
You can hear my shrill cry when the coldest nights fall
The fortune or fame or knowledge you sought
Your pitiful journey down here was for naught
For now that you're here, you never can go
Forever you'll dwell where the flowers won't grow
Your spirit is mine and mine all alone
Your body, your flesh, your blood and your bone
No sunlight or mercy or love will you know
You'll suffer in anguish in darkness below
Now I'm shackled, I'm weak, I'm ten dungeons deep
My bones crackle and creak and I can't fall asleep
But the dead never sleep cuz there's nothing to dream
I could hear his voice laugh as I heard my voice scream
So if you travel down here but you don't know why
Under the pale-blue moon or the blood-red sky
Just another lost soul with no place to go
Where the grass is all dead and the flowers won't grow
Glaring the eyes,
through a fern leaf endeavor
Of a dragon who flies
to the ends of this never
With fire for breath
and skin rough and shackled
Afloat of this death
long a path, echoes cackled
And I with my blade
wield a strength not to waver
Through sunlight and shade
for the fair maiden’s favor
This evil unreal,
chains her honor to frighten
bound in iron and steel
in a grip, endless tighten
In dungeons to dwell
past the evergreen mirror
Enchanted of spell
as the mist fades now clearer
Rusted bars honed to keep
her weeping heart sorrowed
In shame painted deep
with words stealthy borrowed
But I shall stand strong,
charging into the fire
To right every wrong
and protect my desire
Now face to face
with this monster like being
When fear it does chase
at the villagers fleeing
I stab at its heart
the blood quickly flowing
Loud screams rip apart
it’s weakness is showing
Now to slice off its head
with my sword ever flying
In moans of the dead
as this dragon is dying
My princess, my one
take my hand, we must hurry
This challenge is done
down the path we now scurry
Till far from this place
with skies ever bluer
I gaze on her face
could her eyes shine much truer
Her lips find my own
her love she is sending
We walk off alone
to our own happy ending
My soul is drenched with the tears of sorrow,
Joy and happiness torn from my heart...
Sadness has a hold of me.
I thought love would never leave,
But weakness dominates me, causing sin to announce itself boldly my presence.
Screams of pain echo from the dungeons,
As doubt lashes my heart with the whip of ungodliness.
My love is drown in the seas of lust,
My spirit, weak and tormented.
How deep have I planted the seed of failure in my soul?
I see hopelessness on the horizon,
As darkness starts to set in.
The fires of hell have taken root,
The gnashing of teeth I hear are my own.
Oh faithful friend, loneliness,
Whom I have embraced many a time, I beseech thee,
Let me be.
That comfort may snuggle up with sympathy.
My sin is more than I can bare...
And it seems I have lost all hope..........
© 2000
The screaming stopped
At the top of the stairs
Winding down into the darkness below
We the children shivered in fear
As bombs rained down like thunderous clouds
We were told, "you are safe my child"
How can we be safe?
When mother and father walk above?
How can life go on?
When there is no life at all?
The smoke has cleared
We rise like the dead from the dungeons below
Some of us weep in mothers arm
Some of us weep, for we have no mothers at all
We all weep for there is no happiness
Yet the screaming has stopped
I am just a small child
I shake in fear
As I stare at those around me
They seem as me, small and afraid
But I shiver in dark thoughts as I wonder
Who of them
Will grow up
And make the bombs rain yet again
Who of them
Will make us all feel the pain
Why must sins like arrows fly?
Into the child’s heart
So that future generations
Die before birth
I am simply a child
Who asks you, why?
I crossed the Mediterranean like those millions.
I am still held captive in their nightmares.
Some say I originate from a continent
that resembles an open-air dump.
I build myself within the concentration camps
that the West has exploited since the slave trade.
They hate my Africanity
but they are addicted to the riches of my ancestors' soil.
I fed on the trash cans of misery
so as not to prostitute myself on Western sidewalks.
These heirs of slave traders bombard Africa
in the name of democracy, human rights,
and Abrahamic obediences.
I am persecuted on every continent,
always a suspect to these insatiable cannibals.
I did not come to assimilate or integrate:
I have already been colonized, Frenchified, and Christianized.
If you do not love me, do not be a hypocrite to my face.
I will make you taste the horrors of Négritude
that I have carried for millennia.
I no longer prostrate myself before their God,
their saints, or their prophets.
I do not believe in their humanism
nor in their universalism.
I fight the negrophobia of imperialism every day.
They call me a parasite,
as if the centuries-old savage looting of Africa
were a mere utopia.
My people were trapped in the dungeons
of their Code Noir.
Before criticizing these scavengers,
I attended the school of the Republic
of the slave-trading Enlightenment.
I gleaned the diplomas of their alienation.
I will never be ashamed of being a pagan Sub-Saharan
who has read the Bible, the Quran, and the Torah.
I will never trust these preachers of hate
who sing the praises of liberty,
equality, and fraternity
over oceans of innocent blood.
My people are dehumanized
because they are still disunited.
I see imposters
desecrating Pan-Africanism
the moment they are tied
to Western pauperization.
I will never respect the borders
born from the balkanization
of the cradle of humanity.
My allegiance goes to Africa and not to the colonial outposts
of the Eldest Daughter of the Church.
I think of Africa every day
since I left that continent.
I wish for the revolutionary energy of the Sahel
To spread across all of Africa.
I dream that all the banana republics
of Françafrique
Transform into sanctuaries
of Pan-Africanism.
I have a toddler who loves to play
Pretend – imaginary friend, make-believe
She pierces my heart with her adventures
Into the fantasy land of dinosaurs,
Dungeons and dragons, long lost voyages
With pirates and princes – feeling
Invincible, indestructible, unshakable
Like she has the tiger by the tail
And is sure to always win in the end
I’m still in college and this toddler of mine
She gives me a healthy dose of jeopardy
To help me see the thrills in this life
Now I try to do my homework,
While she colors, paints or plays
With a wad of Play dough in hues
Of vivid and brilliant scarlet or sapphire
I was doing homework one morning
As she colored there by my feet
And I decided she needed a sippy cup
Of cranberry juice to sufficiently be
Prepared for her day of fictitious ideas
As I finished up my homework
And headed out to the kitchen
I noticed her pterodactyl there beside her
When I came back from the kitchen
Handing her the sippy cup with the juice
She smiled and handed me a torn up paper
The homework I’d just prepared that day
As she giggled, “pterodactyl ate it, Mommy”
In spite of my shaking head, I laughed
And began to rewrite the page that
A flaming pterodactyl had eaten
...and then a flaming pterodactyl ate my homework Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John lawless
January 19, 2021
I'm a pro-cyclist, and I despise people with flab
So it hurts that my folks don't walk, they'd rather take a cab.
I describe my races at the dinner table, but all they do
Is nod politely and say, "pass the stew"!
I took my nephew Chad cycling, such a pain:
As soon as we hit Salton hill, he began to complain
He asked why I couldn't leave him alone before his PC
Playing video games with his friend Tim McGee
He hadn't finished dungeons, a dragon he didn't yet slay,
How could some dumb trees compete with a world where heroes play?”
I said to my dubious nephew, "you got to get the blood to flow.
"You’ll find in sweat and aching limbs a truth that few will know,
Fresh air and nature beat any pixel combination
Look around you, take a breath, you'll feel a true elation.
We passed decomposing roadkill, Chad grimaced at the stink
But then a dark car passed, I gave the driver a wink
It was Chad's friend's dad, we had made a conspiracy
Chad would have a surprise; we'd meet Tim McGee.
Chad was about to quit but then his cell phone played Maroon Five.
He pulled it out, it was his friend, I hoped this trip could revive
Tim said he was waiting at Dunkin Doughnuts on Salton Hill crest
Chad brightened up, hit the pedals, sailed up the steep road west.
Chad outrode the wind, like a lion on the chase.
I couldn't keep up with him, how could I save face?
I was humiliated, in my mind I was the pro
I guess hard truths in life make a man grow.
We got to Dunkin Doughnuts, with a view way up high
I was wheezing and straining, and I wanted to cry
There was Tim and Chad sharing Cinnamon Sugar Surprise
Chad was just getting started; he wanted a burger and fries.
I had spent years eating arugula and sprouts
Organic fruit, and probiotics, and all those intense workouts
But I was beaten by Chad, who spends life before a screen
I've hung up my bike, life isn't just tough, it's also downright mean.
Caught in the maelstrom
A world of darkness and misery
for bewildered and tortured souls
A world where howling winds
reside in vortexes of black holes
A world where hope is just a word
whispered in a soft murmur
A world where psychotic episodes
revel at hopes murder
A world where even light can't penetrate
the dungeons of the imagination
Where friendships and hope are wrecked
on crashing waves of desperation
How can one survive in this hostile world
where hope is hopelessly caught in the maelstrom?
Pray to the God who can resurrect hope
and shelter you from miseries hailstorm!
John Derek Hamilton
August 25,2016