Long European Poems

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


Premium Member The Pride of the Bhoys

Known they are as the Lisbon Lions
But  of  the West of Scotland were they scions.
Etched in history is their name
Because of that  1967 game.

Immortality upon them is endowed
As they made their fans so proud.
But as the years do move on
So are we left with fewer sons.

One such by the name of McBride
Recently passed  to the other side.
A centreforward of great repute
He could score with head or either foot.

Such a joy was he to watch
It made you so  proud to be Scotch.
Yet all his roots dated back to Eire
Than which land none is fairer.

As a boy he grew up in Govan
Where the once proud Rangers' writ did run
However,because of their sectarian divide
He could not be signed by his  local side.

He plied his trade skilfully and well
As every team he played for can proudly tell
He showed goalscoring was his great art
 And his teamwork played a major part

When he finally joined them  in the East End
He was destined to become a true legend
His goals set him in a world apart
And he played for Celtic with all his heart.

Although he played not in the European final
His contribution till Christmas that season was vital
With goals galore and impressive teamwork
He was a model player who would never shirk.

And so the crowning glory of his team
Without his contribution would not have been
As a man who never lost the common touch
He remains in our memories  loved so much.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Bio poem

Bio,
mature, sincere, loving, and respectful, 
Son of Brijnandan Prasad and Muni Devi, 
Lover of natural beauty, beautiful wife, beautiful children and grandchildren, 
Have deep loneliness for heavenly departed wife, find solace in the beauty of nature, passion for helping less fortunate people, 
Apparently, no one fears me, May be burglars who don’t dare to victimize me, May be scammers who try to cheat me every day. 
Love to travel and see European Countries & African Safary in native countries, Art and painting shows, My relatives in India, 
Castro Valley, California, 
Narain 


Seeing my daughters, son, their spouses give me the sweetest beat,
Grandchildren bring joy and cheer to my aging heart, so neat,
Nothing more precious than those who are my own in this life,
Good friends overshadow earthly possessions, easing strife.
© Jay Narain  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Bio

The Chieftains Wrath

Once i lived with an uncle in a sleepy coastal town
who had a very beautiful house help from upcountry
now my male cousin Kiki desired to have a relationship
with our beautiful house help who was very lovely

One day Kiki arrives home alone he tries his advances 
she flatly rejects him he then tries harder than its allowed
with no success.. later that night he is summoned by my uncle
Kiki tries best to defend himself....but is severely reprimanded

Now my Chieftain uncle is given to punishment and for Kiki
our Kiki is ordered to spend the night in the Chicken house..
not the European pet chickens these are real African chicken
complete with a rooster who scratches Kiki mercilessly

Come morning Kiki is full of scratches but he has learnt his lesson
he apologizes like his life depends on it  and high tails out of the house
Safari my chieftains uncle we all love him but is know to be really hard
when it comes to meting out punishment and our Kiki had it coming




Lewis Nyaga
mambo ya pwani
Form: Narrative

My Destiny of My Heart Through the Light

Hello mate with the smile of a sweet peach, how may I help you angel.  
She had a smile that would calm the savage breast of the beast before an attack.  
Her teeth of pearly white and small dimples in her cute cheeks, how I long to kiss those soft cheeks.  
A pretty smile that deserves a soft kiss upon her lips. 
A natural nude color of her lips, they need no lip stain; however, the lip stain would add more to you in a form of a compliment.  
Seeing your feet every morning before you got ready for work, white and of red polish.  
How I longed to embrace your sweet form and draw in your pleasant scent. 
Your hair is beautifully blond and medium length.  
Your eyes are a pool of water in Cinque Terre. 
They draw me into a smile.  
Your voice calms my soul.  
May I say to you, I love knowing you.
A troubadour in my heart. 
A troubadour in your heart.  
I hope to God you are ok my soul mate.  
I hope you succeed.
I may be able to catch a glimpse of you on a Sunday at our mutual location.  
Only then can I say thank you.  
Only then can I hold your hand and embrace you as my sister in the eyes of the Messiah.  
Only then can I greet you in my European way.  
To you I would like to say, “in another time our hands were together in white and black.” 
 Praise to Allah for us meeting; maybe someday our paths will cross again.  
Possibly you may become a part of my heart; however, only Yahweh will place you into a lower role than that of a wife.  
I will still say I love you.  
A dynasty of events has become our destiny, Miss D.  Grazie mi bella ragazza di Bianca. 
 La mia angela di capelli di biondi. 
 Bachiami.
Form: Prose

Chunken Funkel #4

shuffle out 90 degree angle walking blankly between two straight lines come together jump forward onto a harassed sexually more than mentally play mat who’s turned English in structure & outlook suddenly she has a strong dislike or hostility for me 

I shake fear step off some big people their faces cutesy cartoon made by animation walking like ducks I find irritating not funny at all it seems their not trying to be the one or the other get jealous of the skilful animation techniques the animator had used in their production fear & jealously gone 

dress up as a fellow of the West Germanic tribes actually feel special in dress up not like a fool at all stall sells dress up clothes has gone back in time 5th century AD horrible stole the clothed settlers in Britain tried to stop them hence some scars to heal in a plain blunt rude way in old English a language plain white Protestant complaining about reek of the clothes I can’t smell reek or smell my reek I know my reek smothers the clothes’ reek just wink he steams with ire turns into an appetiser in an Italian dish

waterless water fountain I’m brushing off clothes stinky units of length on level with 10-10 metre purpose of measuring wavelengths people I wish away they stay about some cruel coarse some behave like they’re special with the best voluntary movement with the best two legs like they’ve been born with the most special sense organs There’s no such person you’re physical needs are tricking you I whisper to them ignore me of course don’t even stop I bleat tearlessly 

I’m in the close by extension to the central building quite colourful addition have a conversation with a south European plant with liquorice-flavoured seeds about dates on which an occasion for example an honouring wedding happened summertime 1994 until he has to go to union’s annual conference planned to last one year I remind him need to feed on their paper subscriptions in order to finish his life cycle he nods I know 

watching agape a brown hardcover book no title give birth to itself every minute play hearts with a joint connecting a leg & foot I educate him the bit of the leg just above the foot wants to make known to the public proclaim fog announces the birth of tea towels he believes me I keep losing but no I’m not bitter yawn thrice should be considered a skill


Premium Member The Lady Roach

Hitler's final attack on quote unquote 
undesirable humans from the bile's of slave 
ships prison camps European complete 
infestation thee German female cock roach 
feasting on poor captured humans and their 
belongings during world war two carried to 
America in the cracks boxes on boats 
going for tea I turned on my kitchen light
 
what an ugly sight she stood there long 
dark itchy hairy legs lips lined with flesh 
pink liner she awaits a light in order to 
scatter through any crack to slide into 
homes windowpanes paneling door frames 
once in side she scurries inside cupboards 
closet prancing through old clothing one 
in her nature she releases a powerful yellow 

stench staining walls and furniture finally
the hairs on her legs make a god awful 
sound alerting her the owners are coming
prowling in the darkness she hides inside 
pages and pages books old letters photos 
receipts leaving black dusty feces spreading 
fecal matter carrying hundreds of eggs on 
her back her selfish nature allows her to 

actually breed alone without a spouse a 
mate multiplying within the darkness of 
Lucifer’s lair night crawlers leaving disease 
and carney in her wake feasting in left 
over scum crumbs damp wet old wood 
someone screams look the time it takes 
to open book splat swat frightening all the 
guess truly horrifying to see exhilarating to 
just smash or watch her run back up a tree
Form: Grook

Butterflies of Every Shade

May the butterflies of this world return to us once more 
when the spring provides her heat we will no longer hide
Eastern winds of far away lands flying in unknown shores 
their cellophane wings of light need to return and chide 
 
Once they adorned our many flowers here in Canada 
now they are a memory of yesterday's summer gaze 
I cling to the hope that tomorrow I won't need algebra 
to count the flutter of their wings, like yonder days 

I'll know them by the colors of their flight and groove 
that April has arrived with her rainy cascade   
all the trees will suspire as they soften their moves  
garnished once again, with butterflies of every shade

I know that when the season wakes we are going to see 
Monarchs, European skippers, and frosted elfin too 
as the warmer shades and colors meld into the sea 
we will begin to spot the pupas, and butterflies anew.

Contest Name: Your best quatrain
Form: Quatrain

The Great Betrayal

The Great Betrayal (festive speech)

May 9 is a great day for Russia worth remembering
World War 2 would have lasted longer and cost more lives
had not Russia participated
Hitler hated Russia with passion when he went to war 
committed a big part of his army to vanquish this landmass
But he was not the only one who eyed Russia with hatred and
envied its usual riches; not only Napoleon ruined his army 
when taking on the great country, but the Swedish Vikings too  
tried to take land but, as always, lost.
So, who are the Russians? They are not Europeans, although part
of the country is a part of Europe with a language that does not
come under the influence of the Germanic or Roman languages
After years of suffering from the utter poverty and need; of the Tzar 
the regime brought, there was a revolution; unfortunately for the
people, the new rulers were a bloody one ,but carried cohesion
and under communism became a stronger nation, to the chagrin 
of European states like France and Germany.
Today Russia is a semi-democratic state led by Putin and his men
at war with the USA and NATO because Russia had once again
been disrespected and lied to.
This day is vital for the well-being of Russia, we wish them well into 
the future. LONG LIVE RUSSIA!
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

Merciful Deceased Mother Father Twill See Thee Anon

Merciful Deceased Mother - Father T'will See Thee Anon

Atheism underscores bedrock
schema Holy Toledo
encompassing mine secular humanistic credo
simultaneously tricking elusive illusion, sans
supernal radiant quintessence

blasting damn ming the torpedo
didst alight kindle linkedin skepticism,
asper this son kissed faith no more,
(nor e'er didst I believe)
with irrefutably blinding albedo.

Though both parents
predecessors theology, included prayer
purportedly distilled within
Eastern European Jewry, where
without bonafied definite
certainty doubts to square
lee dismiss, this mortal

forced to conjecture dare
ring declaratively, while
sitting in thinking chair
(bet my bottom dollar to air)
course, I take leap of faith here
me forebears most likely
modus operandi did adhere

practiced, skewed, premised 
Semitic virtue and vice
towed toward theistic obeisance suffice
hath to claim parochial paradigms mice
self attests little doubt,

(no matter scant rice
sized grain genealogical details posit,
one granule pepper, or
other old World spice)

supposed speculative precepts
akin to bing as loose as lice
sen shuss behavior
precepts prevails precise

lee predicated on
(at the minimum Reformed) price
less cherished Jewish, 
traditions as device
ordering existence, (perhaps Judeo Christian)

principled tenets to whit
and mention above sit
chew waited at down
chronological arc soon to quit
final chapter of life, though

near ninety year old papa will visit
death be not proud realm
after he doth exhaust limit
of his mortal tenure, I admit
he gives nary a fig, 

his meager profit
will not be deeded to any church,
and this sole son 
expects (dentured teeth to grit
tight and eyes teary)

to reed only commendable
comments asper his obit,
where spirit of Harriet Harris fuses
with that of Boyce Harris as one unit
Tarry yon forever!

Premium Member WI-FI WARLOCK

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He wears Bluetooth like a crown,  
taps *sigils into glowing glass~  
his spells are updates,  
his *familiars pixelated.  

The old grimoires gather dust  
beside a stack of dead chargers,  
while he murmurs incantations  
to routers gone rogue.  

His tower isn’t stone,  
but a studio apartment  
where the microwave hums  
in harmonic resonance  
with his coffee machine’s demonic gurgle.  

He doesn’t turn men into newts~  
just cancels their subscriptions,  
hexes their algorithms,  
and once, drunk on mead  
(ordered via same-day delivery),  
he made every printer in his building  
spit out nothing but  
YOU HAVE BEEN CURSED.  
PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER.  

The neighbors don’t complain.  
They just assume  
it’s another outage. 
 
*A sigil is a type of symbol used in magic. The term usually refers to a pictorial signature of a spirit. In modern usage, especially in the context of chaos magic, a sigil refers to a symbolic representation of the practitioner's desired outcome. 

Familiars are supernatural entities or spirits in European folklore, often depicted as small animals, that assist witches and cunning folk in their magical practices. They were believed to provide protection and guidance, and could be seen as either benevolent or malevolent depending on their association.(Source: Wikipedia.com

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