Long Foe Poems
Long Foe Poems. Below are the most popular long Foe by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Foe poems by poem length and keyword.
Let me tell you about Morpheus ...
Morpheus is a fictional Marvel character ...
his real name Robert Markham ... he was once human
born in New York City ... a normal guy except
he was suffering from an unknown viral infection
so he went to Dr. Peter Alraune Jr.
for a consultation and hopefully treatment
~ Dr. Peter Alraune was an expert in genetic disorders
Robert was suffering from an inability to sleep
or dream ... the doctor offered him an experimental drug ~
the drug changed segments of Robert's DNA and his appearance
and made him highly destructive with no need to sleep
he had a huge accumulation of physic energy
and mutated into a crazed for revenge freakish grotesque creature
he could influence other peoples minds while they slept
forcing them to do his bidding, even murder ...
he named himself after the Greek God of Sleep
~ he focused his hate on Dr. Peter Arlaune
finding out that he could control him to do things
Moon Knight tried to save the doctor by fighting Morpheus
but the doctor sacrificed himself, dying
he had considered himself responsible ~
now, Morpheus wants revenge on Moon Knight and his friends
even Moon's ... on and off girlfriend Marlene Arlaune
his lover and secretary and sister of RIP Dr. Peter
Morpheus can control people with illusions
and hallucinations while they sleep and sleep walk
sometimes, the visions are simple ... like snakes
sometimes more 'hideous' and complex
and they recall nothing on awaking
~ it is believed that Moon Knight defeated Morpheus
but no body has ever been found
and though he was a monster ... I feel sorry for him
after all, he was only seeking help
... so the question ... is Morpheus really dead ?
or just waiting ... ~
_____________________
December 01, 2022
Poetry/Bio/Foe of Moon Knight - Morpheus
Copyright Protected, ID 12-1505-856-01
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Moon Knight Friend or Foe 3
sponsor, Robert James Liguori, Judged 12/15/2022
First Place
O my life! What a beautiful disaster it has become!
For the doses of my sunny days and starry nights grew numb,
And the sweet caress of my existence has partly succumbed.
It paralyzed me—as though my foresight had been overcome
By whispers creeping into my mind like an intruder's hum.
If I could depose the noisy image of my tomorrow,
Would it bring me silent war or peace amid the undertow?
How could I unfetter the finitude of my own window?
For my soul could barely perceive the playful tongue of a foe,
Or a friend's delightful persona behind an ugly show.
Yet I lament that the world has made its own foolish nickname
When filtered righteousness and glamorous deceit have enflamed.
On whom should I lean when moral transgressions take on their name?
Or should I wish to fly to the Heavens far from where I came?
For illusions seem true—and truth can be an elusive game.
There is a fine line between a friend and a foe,
One careless step – and fractures take their toll.
A fragile thread by unseen tensions spun,
One step too far – and what was whole undone.
So often formed with little strain,
Yet just as fast dissolve in pain.
What once felt easy, light, and strong,
Can turn to silence, cold and wrong.
What blooms in trust may rot without a sound
For trust once cracked is rarely ever found.
For bonds are built through patient art,
With love and kindness at their heart.
Yet when mistakes and tensions crawl,
Those pillars crack — and shadows fall.
Thus guard the line no eyes are trained to see,
For foes are often friends we used to be.
A friend or foe
A friend or foe.
Tina was organizing her stuff. She was supposed to meet with the professor exactly two minutes ago. She drafted her outline of the content to be discussed precisely. Now she needs to merge with her timing before it is too late.
The cell phone vibrated with the usual ringtone. An unknown number.
“Are you Reza’s mom?”
“Yes.”
“This is his teacher, calling from the school.”
“ Yeah, please tell me…”
“Reza is deteriorating with his performance. We would like to meet both parents to discuss his progress. Since you are not available locally, do you think you will attend a virtual session?”
“Sure. I will be happy to.”
“Please, let me know a suitable time when it is possible.”
“Sure…um, let me talk to his father.”
Tina tried to get Minhaz. Three consecutive times. With a long pause of ongoing ringtones, no response.
A separated couple has too many loosely based dysfunctionality, in fixing priorities, in fixing purpose of meaning, when to talk and how to talk.
Tina was struggling before… Tina is struggling with the aftermath too.
“Sorry, missed your call. Anything urgent? Please text me.”
Tina is truly annoyed. She is now getting really late for meeting her professor. A meeting about the trend of pedagogy in language acquisition and about the crisis in the young generation. A meeting bearing much importance for her future motivation.
She tried to be precise.
He tried to be precise too.
“I do not feel any need of yours to be present. It is better to attend an on-site meet-up. I will be there. That should be enough."
“Reza is lacking something….either motivation, or focus, do you not understand? Let me be there.”
“ I understand. You don’t.”
He finished his sentence with a coldness.
“Pedagogy of language acquisition and crisis in language loss.”
Tina's title of the deliverable.
She needed to make up for the wasted time.
She needed to make up to make her presentable as well.
Not all tears are too personal to decipher.
Between a friend or foe.
Oh, no revengeful girl,
don't step on my toe...
thinking it won't hurt;
weren't you a precious pearl?
Oh no, you go from friend to foe,
digging up unnecessary dirt!
Stop going around in mad circles,
you can try to hide every truth;
no, the cleverest scheme is not worth
stirring up the water with pebbles!
Oh, no I have spoiled you enough,
it's time to be really tough;
change gear and speed,
don't show your greed!
If this guy denies you everything
is because you fake all feeling;
oh, no, odds have been in your favor,
oh, no, lying changes all flavor!
Oh, no, no, don't step on my toe,
oh, no, you go from friend to foe;
oh, yeah, treasure our friendship,
oh, yeah save this sinking ship!
Oh, mighty death,
You, the undisputed ruler of the underworld,
Tell me, I implore you,
Are you my friend or my foe?
Are you the dark angel or the angel of light?
Should I fear you, or should I rejoice at your sight?
During my long life, I know,
We have crossed paths a good number of times.
There were moments that face-to-face we came, and at other times,
Like a serpent, you were lurking unseen in the grass of my fears.
As a mortal, undoubtedly to you, I belong, but still, my question lingers:
When the time comes, am I bound your prisoner to be or
Your guest of honor?*
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© Demetrios Trifiatis
12 July 2023
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* Getting older, one realizes more and more his mortality as
he sees his friends passing away one after the other and
feeling in his heart his death approaching!
At moments like that, he tries to find answers to
questions that, as a young person, had never asked.
-
Here is my little Trilogy concerning death!
The first part of my Trilogy on death.
You came to me
As an enemy
Feared, Dark, Revered
Steering me toward uncertainty
Avoiding, annoying, destroying
Trust in men
Pricking me to hate
The desire within
Just when I determined
To make my escape
You clung to my words
And wadded up my hate
You threw, withdrew, renewed
The tender love breaking open
Mounted your white steed
And took to loping
~through lavender lily fields~
I cast aside
All restraint
Mounted my paint
Galloping through open gates
We rode upon
Unexplored land
Discovering hearts
Devoted to understand
It rained, stained, made it plain
Love has flowered here
Then, the sun arose
Bringing shadow to fear
Vagrant, thief
Out, get out....humiliated
I gathered my soul about me
And ran into the night
Caring not if death took me
...away...no hope, no love...no fight
I cried out in colossal grief
Love, you are my enemy
I will not look for you again
You only discovered how to leave
Me, lost in the heart of intimacy
Where I can find the arrows of men
Your sufferings, all alone
To your rescue, a loan
Instantly, a seed you've sown
Finally, you smell nice in your cologne
and now, they say him we own
Their hats, each takes off for you
Like a gullible ewe,
Thou attend to the needs of not just a few
In the mad rush to help all in queue,
Their jealous minds have you no cue
A pit, they dug and covered with a mat
In the night, they dash out like a bat
and in the morning discuss where you sat
In the midst of cats, an innocent rat
Playing not outside its flat
Certainly, the one you love you know
The one who loves you? No!
Sometimes the one you love, a foe
In your creator, you glow
and reap what you sow
The bowmen stepped up to the line
with a twinkle in his eye;
he knocked a feathered arrow,
and set a single shaft to fly.
The paper gnomes in pendulous sleeves
about painted maidens lurked;
the bowman knocked his arrow and,
aimed for the gnome silly shirt.
A puny gnome of paper fell,
pierced through his pendulous part.
the maiden squealed in mortal fear
as the bold archer missed her heart.
The bowman launched a final flurry,
of the finely feather shafts;
and many, many, portly gnomes,
were felled, with arrows in their sashes.
And, so the field of battle cleared,
of fearsome foe that sunny day,
with every ignoble gnome,
set to rotting in the rye hay.
The moral here is quite plain,
for all whose joy seems sparse;
the fool who insults an archer
will find an arrow in his ****.
I chased hope like a star fading in the gray,
its light soft as promises and sharp as chains.
I knelt at its altar, trembling,
asking for its touch to heal me,
but it scorched instead.
Hope, you say, is a friend,
but it is a foe in disguise,
demanding, ever demanding—
each promise a contract in invisible ink
that binds tighter the more you give.
I called for its grace in the dark,
but in return, it pointed fingers at my failures,
whispered blame in my ear
like the voice of a false god—
always distant, always just beyond reach.
I reached out and reached again,
but it danced out of grasp,
taunting, its hand an illusion,
its face a blur.
I sought it, bled for it,
and found nothing but an empty sky,
a horizon that only deepened the night.
There is no salvation in this game.
Only the illusion of salvation.
Hope has no face but the one you create—
and when it fails,
you wear its broken mask.