Long Fated Poems
Long Fated Poems. Below are the most popular long Fated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fated poems by poem length and keyword.
Now gather around, ye lusty lads, a tale I'll tell to thee
Of jealous Gods, monsters and ill-fated men who sailed the sea.
My tale is set in hoary times when fickle fate was by divine decree.
Then men were men who faced all odds, much sturdier than you or me.
It was the time when the Trozans fell, King Priam's pride was turned to dust,
Odysseus' ruse of Trozan Horse, made him of the God's accursed;
For Apollo's faith was crushed by heel of Grecian fleet,
And rape and pillage, with lust and greed, was rampant on the street
But fair Odysseus, with wanton fill, mindful of the weep and wail
With his Grecian hordes and a dozen ships to Ithaca did set sail
With hope-filled heart, with fair Penelope and Telemachus in mind
His course to fair Ithaca was charted and well and truly defined.
But fate, I did say, was most fickle-minded, and had deviously contrived
A fate which would try their grit and test how they fought, and survived.
And so the ships driven willy-nilly by the North Westers and South Easters
Drove them by predetermined chance to the Land of the Lotus Eaters.
The Lotus Eaters were a race which the world forgot in their drugged state
With food of the Nelumbo, of a species time forgot, but did their hunger sate,
And drugged their minds to exclusion of world, to family, and other cares.
Odysseus , abstinent was he,, dragged them back on board, with crew unawares.
Thence post-haste did the ships set sail and sighted fair isle with fatted cattle,
Fair game for stocking provisions, but first a Titan Cyclops they had to battle.
Odysseus, full of guile knew that force would lead to hapless naught,
So crept he in, midst cattle din, and there sleeping Polyphemus sought.
And there as the Cyclops soundly slept, blinded his eye, which was but one.
Polyphemus, Titan, unbeknownst to Odysseus, was Poseidon's beloved son.
With prideful boast Ithacan King, in derision his name did daringly decree.
Wild with rage, and dreadful pain, did Polyphemus call his father from the sea.
Deeply hurt at deceit and guile by which the Grecians blinded his offspring,
Poseidon did curse and said, " May stormy seas and whirly winds calamity bring"
So tossed about were the dozen ships, windblown and tossed on heaving seas.
With heavy heart and tired limb went they to Aeolus, the Wind God there to please.
~11 Jun 2016~
...It was just after such a cry
that she turned her sad face to him,
said,”It’s not written that you’d come…
What power lets you come within?”
Enktantas just advanced slowly,
a battered sword high on his belt,
“A voice told me to come find you,
where it came from, I cannot tell.
“I don’t even know why I come here,
no silence could I ever find,
I hoped if I could track you down
the madness would drain from my mind.
“But tell me, goddess, why you cry?
Why would a goddess feel so sad?
I thought tears were for us mortals,
whatever could make you feel bad?”
The goddess blinked away her tears,
and looked down on the mortal man,
said, “I have cried since I was made,
I'm Destiny, and by it damned.
“You mortals were blessed with some choice,
if just the illusion of it,
but I am bound by this great scroll,
and my feelings can’t defeat this.
“What I read here is what must be,
I say names and men go to death,
even if I feel it is wrong
the words still leap out with each breath.
“So many babies innocent,
beloved folks who deserved more,
even fellow gods fated to die,
while sparing those rightly deplored.
“For all of time I’ve done this task,
so have my daughters by my side,”
she said,”But you were not written…
it is you who must make me die!”
Enktantas jolted in real shock,
and stumbled about for his words,
“I-I do not mean to hurt you,
To kill a goddess? That’s just absurd!”
But Ananke just shook her head,
said,”I don’t think that is the case.
To be here without it being told…
To be excused by the strands of fate?
“This has never happened before,
maybe this is the first real choice,
sent by a power beyond fate…
I think that’s the goal of this ‘voice.’
“And even if it’s something else,
at this point I no longer care,
deaths of millions are on my soul,
I’m in pain from that much despair.
“So take that sword stained red with blood,
and please strike me square on my breast,
if I am wrong nothing changes,
if right then I’ll finally have death.”
Enktantas frowned and bit his lip,
the mere thought to him seemed insane,
But a goddess had commanded him,
and so evident was her pain...
He pulled the sword out from his belt,
put the tip right over her heart,
“Forgive me,”he said in advanced,
then plunged forward with the sword, hard...
CONCLUDES IN PART III.
In magical verses weave your fated heart's request,
With metaphors holding the shy choir of light abreast,
When hearts corroded by hatred in barrenness rest,
And chains of thought whip gently the gentle flight's zest.
If you are to regain control once more,
When friends of yesteryear were but a lore,
Whose drab garments through time emphatically wore,
But forgiveness you've secreted from its core.
And if in hope you can stand upright,
Not raising armor before the liar’s project slight,
When rage whispers edicts as if to indict,
Melt it in calm, with spirit bright.
Show the world whole your portrait fair,
No masks, no regret, laid bare,
And if you dream of deep breaks in despair,
May you not become in others' lives a dismal seer.
When eternity throws its cold shadow in your corner's crease,
You should gaze with eyes that do not buckle under time’s caprice.
Every living moment in time's palm surely will not cease,
On the heart's scale, they demand to be released.
If you can listen when the truth is spoken,
Alien and shifted in a world that's been broken,
And to persist through the common lies outspoken,
To find faith beneath the frothy spray's token.
If you dare face decay’s embrace without dread,
Avoiding the gilded pleasure's feigned spread,
And in autumn whispers feel your stern fall ahead,
In the poverty of a sky that once display had fed.
Risk carrying on the die heavy, precious pearls,
Wager all that you've got for a fleeting twirl,
And then, whoever you are, learn not to hurl hopes like chaff,
Your failures become a path leading to something more sacred, more daft.
Endure, in a feeble body, remorse and persistence,
Wearing a smile as a shield, melting the tormenting ice of existence.
Cherish the moment that remains in unending instance,
With a soul lined in armor's silent resistance.
If you can fill the silences in empty spaces,
When shattered times speak with yesterday's faces,
Replenish them with fresh sparks among the disgraces,
Then you will build from seconds, unbroken traces.
And the Earth shall through you be magnified,
And all that writhes in its infinite tide,
And in this great shaken, you'll uncover as scribed,
That you're a whole man, not just a soul that's been pried,
Not part of the herd whose times have dried,
But master of the strength from your own dream derived.
Any foodie on the brink
Of getting moody thinks
Of the dear dairy panacea
The culinary kinks
The cultural links
Gourmet high jinx
Of no.. not Cullen skink
CHEESE
As drinks clink then sink
Where the nods & the winks
Go to the food of the Gods
The stuff that really really stinks
CHEESE
A noble global endeavour
Arty farty dolcelatte party
Comte & cheddar
Smutty nutty double header
CHEESE
Palette caged by a rare
Cave aged Gruyere
Who can forget..appetite whet
Heat light stand manned..expands..
Milky glue or is it silky Moo Goo
Fanned..hands pulling strands
Eat not..planned fondue
Best damned bet
Always get a Raclette
CHEESE
Prouder of Gouda
Or louder Parmesan fan
Even when its powder?
Tilting to the built in love
For Stilton.. never wilting
Hard the calling card
Or more a Roquefort sort
Taught soft held aloft
French can’t bench moulds
Aristocratic blue vein
Dramatic wench holds court
Emphatic stench & stain
CHEESE
Whatever floats your boat
Maybe Goat gets your vote
Or those in the know
Gloat..chose sheep & Manchego
CHEESE
Young or well hung
Given time in the cellar
But won’t sneer at Paneer
Mozzarella can be stellar
Even give a damn
About dear Madame Edam
CHEESE
If you're of that whining ilk
Got that dining disease
Opining it’s just mouldy milk
Having a dig..you big tease…
Well won’t try to appease
CHEESE
Wary of the not rated
Scary squirting lube
You squeeze with ease
Flirting fairy out of a tube
Ill fated.. pre grated or
Diced into a nice cube
CHEESE?
Or drastic vices
Plastic elastic slices
Could go for Dairy Lea
Fell under the Babybel spell
Or pray tell maybe
Its Le Vache qui Rit
CHEESE?
Always a winning wheeze
Ideal at the beginning
Or end of a meal
No ratty ways of thinning
Natty diets lose to fatty riots
Choose ways of sinning
A ruse to amuse..
MORE CHEESE PLEASE
He says grinning
P.S If eating cheese before bed
Gives you a crappy nightmare
So what if you have fed
On cheese in these dreams
No scrappy schemes in your head
Led to days with rays of sunbeams
Teams of happy memes instead
Well it seems only fair
Author’s Introduction - A word about Minot’s Ledge Lighthouse:
The Minot’s Ledge lighthouse, built 1850, lying off the southeastern chop of
Boston Bay, was the first lighthouse built in the U. S. that was not protected by
exposure to the fury of ocean storms. It was, then unfinished, in the shape of an
egg-shell painted red and supported by iron pillars. The first keeper, Isaac
Dunham, quit after 10 months citing how unsafe the structure was (swaying 2
feet in each direction in a storm). His fears were well founded, for in April 1851, a
colossal storm struck the New England coast. The lighthouse was toppled and
swept away, and the two attendants, Joseph Antoine and Joseph Wilson, were
killed.
The following day only a few bent pilings were found on the rock. This tragedy set
the standard for the construction of more solid structures using granite blocks for
greater support and a new light was built by June, 1860.
To this day, legend has it, that in dark and stormy weather, sailors hear a voice
coming from Minot’s Light crying in Portuguese (the nationality of one of the
deceased keepers – Joseph Antoine) – “Stay away!”
The Ill-Fated Lighthouse
The towering light that threw
Its friendly beams afar
Over the foaming waves,
The sailor’s guiding star,
Is quench’d – and darkness glooms
Where late it bless’d his sight,
As homeward bound he came
In the dark hour of night.
The thundering surges swept
Over the rocky bed,
From which the lighthouse rear’d
Aloft its flaming head.
And lo! They bore away
In that mad fearful hour,
The work that man had made –
The tempest’s rightful dower
And yet a richer freight
The heaving billows bore,
Than wreck of perished Light!
For tossing to the shore
The drench’d and lifeless forms
Of youthful dead there were,
Two brave and manly hearts
That sadly perish’d there!
Farewell ye faithful ones!
Your memory shall live,
While feeling hearts remain,
Pity’s sweet drops to give,
Or any to recount
The terrors of that night,
When the drear sea engulf’d
The hapless beacon light.
And you, ye rushing waves!
Sweep – foaming, sweep along,
And ever as ye go,
Lift high your noisy song;
For thou, remorseless sea!
Maketh all things thine own!
Then send aloft your tune,
And madly thunder on.
My father had been out of work for way too long.
At night, I often heard him and mom weep
Food was scant, but love was strong.
As was that hunger pain when I lay to sleep.
My little brother was too young to understand.
Still a babe in arms, he brought our only smiles.
I loved to play with him and hold his tiny hand.
It seemed to take away the hurt from life trials.
Then, one-day dad came home all excited.
He was talking so fast, grinning from ear to ear.
He said that our future was well fated.
That we were in for adventure was clear.
It was that new ocean liner, the Titanic.
Dad had been hired for the maiden voyage.
We were going along as his sidekick.
A family destined for American homage.
In just five days we boarded that ship.
Immigrating was a dream come true.
Accommodations would be a hardship.
But it was worth opportunities…new.
Dad worked as a scullion in the restaurant.
We were housed on the lower deck.
It was a very crowded lodgment.
We stayed together until the shipwreck.
Sirens were screeching people screaming.
We could not find dad anywhere.
Was he locked up as a cageling?
Could it be true; was he trapped down there?
Lifeboats were being lowered.
Mom held my brother, crying.
Dad must be somewhere cloistered.
We all feared a dreadful dying.
Someone put me in a lifeboat.
I reached for mom as it descended.
The Titanic was still afloat.
But my family separated.
The water was freezing.
I had forgotten my coat.
People crying, sniffling, and sneezing.
The lifeboat soon became an iceboat.
Within a few hours, death began.
Shivering, I crawled beneath two corpses.
A young girl destined to live without her clan.
Hidden from polar breezes.
That was the last time I saw my mother.
My mind holds the image clearly.
She, calling for dad, was cuddling brother.
Oh, how I loved my family dearly.
When rescuers finally arrived.
I was the only one alive in the lifeboat.
Beneath those bodies, I survived.
Then, I was wrapped in a warm coat.
I never did see America.
I was sent to an orphanage back home.
Life had dealt a great trauma.
Forever had sunken in the ocean's foam.
© April 9, 2012
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
Written for Poetry Soup Member Contest: My heart will go on and on.... Free Poetry
Sponsor Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver
Cobalt storms; not azure skies,
predict changing seasons.
Vague ambiance of lies,
waltz with fated reasons.
So tug upon the corners,
try to veil the smile.
Gather all ye mourners,
weep for her awhile.
He knows that she flows,
rivers channel deep.
But ocean's floor below,
caress his troubled sleep.
Golden pair; wounded dreams,
silently entreat.
Moments slide between the screams,
stranded in the heat.
She can't draw inside the lines,
of howling winds deranged.
And up ahead; ominous signs,
the highway looks so strange.
But he can hold her brave will;
in his hands so tenderly,
not even strong enough to still,
his mind she cannot free.
He is the lust to breathe and fly;
his wings stay unused,
within her voice; an angel's sigh,
but the melody, confused.
When questions birth insanity,
saline begs for more.
But he can only hear and see,
the vision behind the door.
And he will toss; and he will turn,
until his eyes are bright.
But in the loss of orgasmic burn,
the other sighs in the night.
He cannot wait; the world is open,
quiet, he leaves the bed.
Heart is faith; pulse is broken,
but his soul must be fed.
With trembling hands; he gasps to feel,
her curves and body light.
Silken strands and he must kneel,
to deliver here tonight.
He hears soft cries; for all too soon,
the other is in pain.
As his soul dies; behind the moon,
denying need again.
Have you ever had to choose,
one over the other?
And you knew that you would lose,
giving up one lover?
Life is a composition,
he strives to hear the source.
He must create; orchestrate,
passion is the force.
When you read this piece of art,
you may think me wrong.
But I've heard the rhythm of this young man's heart,
and the music keeps him strong.
As he grows closer to his wife,
it's the stuff dreams are made of.
But from now til the end of his life,
he's alive in guitar love..
TRAUMA BAY
Of true evil, I’d had barely a peek
But this day would be an education
A full immersion in the fetid reek
The foul depths of his soul’s violation.
Indescribable draining sensation,
It leveled its shoulder, knocked out my wind
Stop spinning room, dig deep, began again.
Although miles away we were from the crime
We felt the direct impact on our hearts
His trigger pulls pierced many souls each time,
Bodies punctured, shrouded, lives torn in parts.
Shock waves broke spirits, families apart.
It was his ghoulish realm made manifest,
Backwards kingdom of delusion, unrest.
CHAOS
United by our common urgency
The fair-skinned devil in our own backyard
Morphed into citywide emergency
A distress call radiated outward
The nation slowly turned its eyes southward
Our easiest, natural reaction
Find the inner sword, and gird for action
JANE 1
A loving deed, rare and touching to all
Warm, kindly neighbor from across the street
Taking her friend, the senator to call
Sweetness like yours, I would cherish to meet
Just not with your blood pouring on my feet.
Half whisper, half gasp, you told me your name
“Ma'am, we’ll take good care of you.” Heart aflame.
JANE 2
A still form on the gurney, lying there
Soul dangling on the thinnest thread of life
Crusted crimson stain in her ruffled hair
The same height, same build, same age as my wife
Eviscerate me, invisible knife
CAT scan on the screen revealed the damage
Twisted anatomy, bullet ravaged
HEROISM
Between heroism and everyday strides
A simple matter that we were prepared
The gulf, in reality, not so wide
The tools and skills we wielded, not so rare,
A thousand heroes happened to be there.
Yet together we formed a solid wall
Resolute warriors answered the call
But of heroism, one thing we did learn
Between appearance and reality
The public laurels that a few did earn
Oft unaligned with actuality
How image misconstrues causality
Media promulgated story lines
Have so many false agendas behind
The convenient plot lines of journalists
Tales of what has supposedly been
So little to do with real turns and twists
Tangential resemblance to the blue screen
The actual truth of all I have seen
Yet all the falsehood cannot steal the pride
The fated day's true heroes hold inside
4/5/16
Serenity – From Fall to Freedom
A Ballad of a fearless teenage girl takes on a dare at a dangerous skate park, soaring through the air before a devastating fall changes her life forever. Years later, now a young woman bound to a wheelchair, she finds herself caught between two worlds—the harsh reality of her injury and the limitless expanse of her imagination. As city lights fade into stardust, she drifts into a realm where she can move freely, unburdened by gravity, her spirit untethered. In this cosmic sanctuary, she floats beyond sorrow, releasing the ghosts of her past.
Yet, even in reality, she refuses to be defined by loss. Strengthened by love and resilience, she carves a new path forward proving that true freedom comes not from movement, but from the boundless power of the mind.
But where will her journey lead?
Lyrics
Note: You can also follow the lyrics by clicking on the CC (closed caption) on the video itself above or on my YouTube Channel)
In the sanctuary of sacred thoughts,
once more beyond the flickering line
where city lights bleed into starry skies
steel birds soar on winds sublime
Is it fated or forged by will alone,
choral voices sing
and sing to her alone
Serenity - Serenity
in an air of reprieve.
reality melts away,
where once deceived
She floats—
adrift in cosmic skies,
releasing ghosts
swift as they arise
To weigh her down - no jaded eyes.
a brand new world of stardust smiles
Awash in colours names defy.
celestial cosmos of limitless sight
Will you grant her one more wish
eyes closed tight?
Sanction fantasy and reality's converge in flight?
Serenity - Serenity
In an air of reprieve.
reality melts away,
where once deceived
She floats—
adrift in cosmic skies,
releasing ghosts
swift as they arise
To weigh her down - no jaded eyes.
a brand new world of stardust smiles
She floats—
adrift in cosmic skies,
releasing ghosts
swift as they arise
To weigh her down - no jaded eyes.
a brand new world of stardust smiles
Awash in colours names defy.
celestial cosmos of limitless sight
Will you grant her one more wish?
eyes closed tight?
Sanction fantasy and reality's converge in flight?
Serenity – Serenity, Serenity, Serenity, Serenity
‘Water’ seems a fitting title
of this rhyme on something vital
for the beings we take care of
and the others we’re aware of.
Life on Earth depends on water,
whether human or sea otter,
fish or fowl, whatever creatures
having some subsistence features.
Water may have been existent
in archaic ages distant
long before we tend to think—
even water that we drink.
Yet when in our galactic history
it was formed has been a mystery…
The researchers have debated
as to if it could be stated
that this liquid can be dated
back to when it’s been related
there was a disk of gas and dust
and molecules that were a must
for water that originated
when our ‘system’ was created
(namely, ‘solar’, where we’re fated)…
Or might it be more antiquated?!
Could we trace to outer space
the genesis that took place
of the water in our glass?
If indeed this came to pass,
it would open up new queries,
not to mention E.T. theories…
But that’s within the jurisdiction
of those who compose science fiction.
Many scientists have avowed
that from the Sun’s parental cloud
of interstellar dust and gas,
from which our star derived its mass,
water, well, to be precise,
water in the form of ice
was inherited there and then,
in that olden where and when…
Some astronomers theorize
that what we may not realize
is up to half the H2O
within the oceans that we know
right here on Planet Earth could be,
yes, older than the Sun we see
illuminating from on high,
in daylight’s path across the sky,
our frets and frolics down below,
where heedlessly we come and go…
Water and life go hand in hand,
from briny deep to wooded land.
In the mariner’s rhyming tale,
all the winds at sea did fail,
and the sailors lives were lost—
the idle ship was merely tossed
as if on a painted ocean,
painted ship, devoid of motion.
There was water ‘every where’,
Coleridge says, except that there
was none to quench their parching thirst;
so the voyage seemed doubly cursed.
Water is such precious stuff!
Do we value it enough?
Oh, may there never come a time
(as in that famous rhyming rime)
when as to water here on Earth—
where mortals meet their death and birth—
we too will ever need to think
that there is not a drop to drink!
~ Harley White