Long Fighter Poems
Long Fighter Poems. Below are the most popular long Fighter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fighter poems by poem length and keyword.
I Love My Life
I love my life , it’s only right.
I struggle and have to fight.
I have not deviated slight.
As needed I work day and night.
I choose my life in joy and rue.
‘Cause I can’t live your life for you.
I’m decisive, hold my view.
No way, I am to bid adieu.
I wish to fly in open sky.
Me, righteous, never to sigh.
I’m satisfied feeling high !
I’m strong minded and hate to cry.
In my ship Me the only crew.
Me lone fighter, really true.
Own aim ! I always pursue.
‘Cause I found out just what to do.
It was FBI Agents, JonBenet Ramsey and Amelia Earhart,
Who almost blew the JKF assassination conspiracy apart.
It was when they were sort after; the lover’s decided to spit,
Amelia Earhart went to Peru and JonBenet Ramsey to Egypt.
Amelia Earhart attempted to get a message to him with huge drawings which was a
pain,
As one looked like a monkey blowing a jet fighter plane.
The CIA said if she came in, she would have immunity in exchange,
But it was too late as she was taken by aliens by landing site called Stonehenge.
JonBenet Ramsey was declared missing in Egypt, after being captured in a photo shoot,
He was last on a pyramid which the Gods used to squeeze their grapefruit.
FRAGILITY OF DREAMS
Once life started with prolonged daydreams of endless possibilities.
Carefree childhood ran on sweet dream dancing on dazzling morn.
Budding youth bearing so many dormant dreams
took proud arrogant steps to sizzling noon of aspiring dream
to glow in glamorous gorgeous gleam.
Life merged in fizzling eve of continuous struggle as lone fighter.
Dusty dusk blending in solitary nugatory night of senile decay.
Yet not in despondence but in fragility of dreams.
05/19/20
'In The Fragility of Dreams' Contest by Silent One
First Place
'All Yours (Feb 10) Contest by Brian Strand
There is a calming sense
When flipping a jaded pence
A bit coin motion
Needing a peaceful mind potion
A pound here
And a beer
Does appear
From the dear
Working the bar
Remembering a war scar
Watching sport
Drinking not enough to spend time in a court
Lighting a smoke
With an innocent choke
Calming down hearing a humorous joke
International football match is on
Artistically illustrating what to do with the bomb
A subtle tap on the shoulder
If ones attitude is getting colder
Right wing, left wing forges forward
Birds in formation stronger and bolder
Attacking one man defending a net
Using a foot as a gunner on a fighter jet
Targeting a defenseless gent
Protecting the land from the aggressor that was sent
He can use hands to catch the ball
Diffusing an invasion punching it over a wall
Creating a corner kick
Staying vigilant waiting for the next trick
At times cards are pulled out
Making everyone scream and shout
Yellow turns to red
Ending the day playing dead
There is a box on the field
Connected a deal
Break the rules in a certain place
Penalties and Punishment differs not showing any grace
Outside the area show the stiff upper lip
Inside prepare to take a hit
Stand there in line
Not able to decline
Imitate the staring down
That happens when an enemy controls the town
While on an attack there could be a whistle
Aborting the shot on goal missile
Offside the flag is lowered
“Retreat retreat enemy are now the controller”
Could be heard
Scattering back waiting for orders to return
Forty five minute clock that continues to run
Until play is done
Broken up into halves
Hopefully the event opens communication paths
It seems the game has no action
Until a royal is distracted
A scoring mission successful in the end
And an advisor interruption needing to defend
Athletic competition is classified as peace
Losers are not deceased
Instead it is an entertaining show
Having nice pace and flow
Crowning a winner
Before both oppositions talking over dinner
So I fell into hell but I lived to tell the tale,
I've got cracks in my shell but cracks will gel,
I disappeared off the radar and richter scale,
and I battled Satan and left his head impaled.
I'm a fighter, a built-in survivor,
warrior wired with a deep inner fire,
burning so bright dark turned to light,
burning so hot that I ceased to fight.
I couldn't let myself give in,
'cus I knew that then I couldn't win,
through all that was happening,
I was never going to collapse in.
I took thed rough with the smooth,
though all the smooth was removed,
held my aim through the pain and the strain,
with never surrender engrained in my brain.
Tropical rain with its lightening frightened me,
but never give in enlightened me logically,
I got to know the enemy and its weakness,
and found a way to attack and beat this.
I went from falling to pieces,
to a world where peace lives,
I beat the beast
and left it deceased.
If you endure the fight you can beat the unbeatable,
tell the world that depression is defeatable!!
In the Somme there was ever only one,
After we walked slowly in vain solidarity,
So to engage with the enemy in a song,
‘Cos for us they had a shocking enmity,
From that point on there was just one,
For we each had to act in determination,
As if we were each the only one’s able,
To defeat the advancing German nation.
I mean, we all knew we were alongside,
Others, our brothers who could fully kill,
But our initial mistake of missing the tide,
When we did not obliterate that Nazi will.
Set us back so much that we did bend,
Endangered the war’s course hopeful,
Put at stake the lives of every one friend,
To rid every fighter of a pride boastful.
The Nazi’s were still ready to eradicate,
Our muscles, minds and hearts of stealth,
No matter how many guns did articulate,
Their noxious spirit and bloody mind health.
But we carved out our presence and right,
Lit our light there in the Somme’s trenches,
When we blew out each Nazi in our fight,
For freedom and life in the Western reaches.
It was each one soldier who won there,
In the Somme, so vital for the direction,
Of that Great War, when all who did care,
Were on the edge for democratisation.
He was a writer, a fighter, an old-timer word rhymer
Always thought free verse was asinine
He was the queerest, the dearest, the tear in your beer-est
and he was one Tolkien over the line
He was archaic, prosaic, euphoric, historic
Made pentagrams optically divine
He was the cheekiest, geekiest, and uniquely freakiest
and he was one Tolkien over the line
He loved cigars and Star Wars, guitars, and sitars
Collages made his artistry torch shine
He was the jivest, high-fivest, young poet alive-est
and he was one Tolkien over the line
It's not much reward to those who are bored
but are afraid of not acting benign
Sometimes you gotta get riled, and go a bit wild
and step one Tolkien over the line
November 14, 2014
GOLDEN REVOLUTION
On THRESHOLD of Revolution,
zeal, vigor follow CONCEPTION
arousing random awareness,
setting up organisation,
consciousness among populace.
Leader comes up to formulate,
plans and programmes to postulate.
DISMAL phase may be PITEOUS.
True leader always at front gate.
BLOOD-STAINED struggle, yet glorious.
Stepping on path, prickly thorny,
Fighter travels distressed journey.
Each foregoes all comforts mundane.
At end glistens ceremony,
When Revolution turns Golden.
10/01/17
Rhyme Time with 5 Contest by Laura Loo.
There were much agony and tears
Painful words entered my ears
Sorrow filled my troubled soul
Yet I knew this was no time to fold
I took three disciples to watch with me,
but they could not; sleep got the best of them
Sweat poured from me like drops of blood
I felt the gloom, but never void of My Father's love
"Father!", I cried. "Please remove this cup so bitter?"
But my Father made me a gallant fighter, not a quitter
I knew that this cup was filled with the sentence of death
Its contents meant a brief separation between me and my Father
So I persisted, "Is there any possibility that I don't drink this cup?
Three times I asked, and three times, my Father said, "No".
Finally, with love for mankind, I surrendered to my Father's will.
My closest friends forsook me, for fear that they too would be killed.
With My Father's love, I drank the bitter cup designed only for me.
With my Father's love, I drank it for her, him, them, and for you.
04052017 PS; Poem Written in April(Not for Contest), Laura Loo I felt God's love embracing me as I wrote this. I pray you also will experience such overwhelming love as you read it.
...Ray had pushed himself to become a kind man,
so he agreed to a few quick questions,
but the reported treated the sit-down
almost as if it were an intervention,
said,”People know you feel your guilt is earned,
but the world is asking, when will you return?”
“I’m not ‘Steel Hands’ anymore,”Ray informed,
“I’m more concerned about helping lost souls.”
But the reported didn’t seem to care,
said,”But what do you think when you are told
that ‘Stinger’ James has declared you a wimp,
you were the champ, what do you say to him?”
Ray shook his head, straightened up in his chair,
said,”I don’t care about that anymore.”
The reporter said,”Does that really matter?
To the world you’re still the fighter who floored
any opponent with a single, hard blow,
that’s all that most people ever will know.”
Ray sent the man away after those words,
his temper had him too angry to speak,
he paced the church aisle for an hour,
nearly wore holes in the floor with his feet.
In his mind he heard some dark, haunting words,
was ‘Steel Hands’ all people would remember?
When he sat with John Lott as the man died,
would that mean nothing to the teaming throng?
Did it mean nothing when he helped Jan Smith
understand why infidelity was wrong?
Was his drive to do better just wasted time?
Then a calming breath pushed through his mind.
His prayers had meant more the John’s family
then the drunk cheers of a stadium crowd,
and seeing Jan marry meant more to him
then a whole entourage braying out loud.
What matter was it if the just saw ‘Steel Hands,’
God would know he chose to be a good man.
The thought made the doubts slowly clear away,
once again he felt certain of his path,
besides, his Moira was cooking up steaks,
and only a fool would dare to miss that.
Let those chumps worry of wars in the ring,
the work he’d chosen was a far greater thing.