Long Hero Poems
Long Hero Poems. Below are the most popular long Hero by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hero poems by poem length and keyword.
Martin Luther King this man stood tall
held by his deep convictions so real
having known of God's sovereign hand
this his hour has God's seal
But opposition operates much
in defiance against all, that's true
believing in his heart all he said
standing firm so his convictions grew
This man had no short-sighted vision
in his memorable speech, 'I have a dream'
he believed one day to see destiny
coming equally for all to redeem
But the gun would take him down
he would not see his appointed day
now 50 years on how far has it come?
colour all over the world still holds sway
Will we indeed ever see true equality?
as man's sinfulness blinds them to be true
nothing's changed since Eden's garden itself
all men are but fools not knowing what to do!
WHEN A MAN LOVES A WOMAN
At first, he, smells her sweet perfume, eyes curves,
long bashful lashes, smiling eyes, red lips.
He, falls so hard for her – unsteady nerves,
and moves to grasp the sun, the moon – he flips!
On knee - he bows, proposes on a whim.
He will find, life is hard – he screams, they clash.
Each storm, he tethers faults – the light grows dim,
but then he questions mind - has he been rash?
She’s so fun and he laughs at her smart joke,
adores the wrinkles on her face – they smile.
His heart beats strong, beneath his shattered cloak.
old man’d do all for her - his domicile.
He was drawn, at youth, to her beauty fair.
Autumn’s aged wisdom, breathes, of love’s affair.
~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~
WHEN A WOMAN LOVES A MAN
Her muscled hero, working strong, and cute.
He lifts her high, with just one hand, in use.
With windswept hair, a toothy smile – to boot,
he makes her an offer she can’t refuse.
A ring of solid gold, at first they thrive.
Invasion of stiff habits - trying, rude!
Aglow his balding head, his hair deprive!
She opens eyes, asks self - why dost thou brood?
After all he is human, she proclaims.
He takes out trash, mows lawn, provides, is kind.
He’s always by my side, thus she reclaims.
He is the best! None better she will find.
And strength is found, in given years of life.
Blind eyes, love opens wide. She, smiles – his wife!
12/7/2016
Two English Sonnets Contest/Sponsor – Mark Massey
Dear Terry Goodkind,
You gave so many heroes to me,
But I know that in my mind
You will be always a hero for me!
Your wise novels have opened my eyes
And shown me how much I can realize;
I’ve never read such things before,
You are my hero therefore!
You are the hero who showed me
How pure and devoted love could be,
How hard it is to find the truth from time to time
And keep our mind open all the time!
Wizard’s rules that you were able to create
Are full of wisdom; they are so great!
Now I live by those rules all the time
And try not to break them anytime!
I didn’t like reading until you;
Now I love it and say, “Thank you!”
Your stories are so interesting and clever,
So I can read them again and again ever!
I definitely know
This hero will never die at all
While his novels live
In somebody’s mind and soul!
In memory of Terry Goodkind
November 19, 2020
He wears a woolen hat as his halo
A multi coloured sleeping bag his coat.
He sits upon a concrete throne
Staring up at passing folk.
Yet his cloak of poverty hides him clearly from their view.
While others see him as something
they have picked up on their shoe.
But he’s a real person,Just like you and me
he as great knowledge from his teachers,Of what history as to teach.
yet lacks the killer instinct
as profit is all that really counts
and success is only measured
by what money in your wallet,and not the goodness in your soul.
Could that man sat on the pavement
with an heart that’s truly pure
be the only prophet this world
should be looking for.
On The Tail Winds of Dreams…
(Apropos Strong Men…)
The day stops. Night begins.
The cocooned dream hangs lazily
On the leaf to time. The veiled goddess
Justice remains oblivious; her skewed scales mimicking
A faked balance. The dream dreams back at us
a Mona Lisa smile teasing the realities of our beings:
zip-lining through winds of change:
Blowing over cob webbed roads we once marched down.
Old warriors sing silent songs (a mute chorus)
Pondering the deed yet undone; the children wander
But can not remember Zion; and we can not teach experience:
(Neither defeat nor victory.)
Though the tree of hope sheds her falling leaves,
In the spring tide of resurrection, they shall overcome;
And the cocooned womb shall birth forth a new freedom
No longer veiled in allegory; a plumb line shall be in our midst.
(Shall we question the Word? Who dares?)
The dream beacons. If memory could speak, I would cry;
Stone sheds no tears. Let Lincoln sit in his motionless chair;
As for me, I shall rise and cross many more meandering rivers:
The spirit of Martin and Malcolm being the wind in my sail.
(“And The Strong Men Just Keep Coming On…”)
Gathered amongst the privileged ones
And born into a trust fund life,
There was born to an arranged couple
A child they named Sebastian Oliver.
And though father and mother
Jockeyed for front page recognition,
And sisters fared well in high society
No amount invited this Sebastian Oliver.
The Cardinal red teemed with trophies
And glamor, his thoughts went to right and wrong
He vowed to break the cord,
And fight the war never spoken of.
This boy, Sebastian Oliver.
And it was on this one night solemn,
In the rainy cold, that this entitled boy,
Made his stand for righteousness,
This young Sebastian Oliver.
The Avenue of glitter, he ambled down,
a sight so gross to his eyes,
Turned his wits adverse,
This no one, Sebastian Oliver.
For in the fall evening, classmates all,
Surrounded a young man of color,
with curled lips of hate
In front of Sebastian Oliver.
Not of this world, but born into it,
To thwart the Devil's children, did
Human inalienable rights, exercise.
This young man, Sebastian Oliver.
And so with blood and rage,
as they trampled underfoot
a lightning struck those doers,
This man: Sebastian Oliver.
"Halt the hatred, you who despise peace
for I am here to take up arms,
For the weak and threatened,"
thus spoke the strong Sebastian Oliver.
And the story goes, that he saved one life
that night, but in truth was much more:
for they whose atrocities were exposed,
came to see the strength of Sebastian Oliver.
He died that night, after all the blood
And horror waned...
But lives on, martyred for love
Was this hero
Sebastian Oliver.
All human lives matter.
They met in street rallies,
fighting for justice and change.
All pain and glory they shared,
handcuffed to the same chain,
whipped with the same police spray,
facing the same hanging judge,
taking the same heroic plea:
Not guilty. We stand against
greed, racism, war, and inequality.
We stand for humanity, one earth,
one identity.
But they were sent to separate jails,
did not diminish their love's scale.
Then they decided to get married
and finally got what they need
a night together, the warden's courtesy
which could have lasted for eternity.
But he was tortured and quietly buried;
she was unaware and constantly worried,
had a child she raised with her in prison,
taught him how to keep his composition.
The government fell and rebels got them freed;
both were super happy indeed, yet sad
when they learned of evil deed.
My love I swear to never forget
all that our sweet love beget.
Rest in peace my hero, my love,
my everlasting dove.
Look into the camera the mighty space man said.
Jon’s Cat was hypnotized, clobbered in the head.
We are taking over, honey, the alien said with a chuckle.
Jon’s Cat was mad. He wanted to give the guy his knuckle.
Take us to your leader the head of the rebels demanded.
Jon’s Cat understood, but he would not do as commanded.
His human was his hero, and he wanted to keep him out of harm.
So he bluffed, and he bamboozled, and he waylaid them with charm.
He finessed, and he fidgeted, and he fiercely fixed them hard and good.
He did what any wise, smart, wonderful, adoring, Kibble-loving cat would.
He led them away from his owner, down the hill to the Alien Catchers Pound.
Next he knew, Space Catchers had netted them. They were on the ground.
He was declared the hero, named Grand Marshall of Thanksgiving Parade.
He took Jon with him. They celebrated with sips of warm pink lemonade.
It’s the sixteenth arrest you’ve made, Jon said. What is your secret, Cy?
Jon’s Cat could not tell him, but he worked undercover for the Cat F.B.I.
She craves the Likes
With those comments so much
It’s proof there are some souls
She’s been able to touch
So she writes in the morning
well into the night
Trying to find that magic
to reveal her inner light
Yes poetry is her drug
a place that seems so real
Her world without borders
where she’s able to feel
Not restricted by society
in this place she’s a Queen
A flower of the desert
or a hero from a movie scene
Sensual and adventurous
No limitations for her
A temptress extraordinaire
able to make strong men purr
No impossible mountain
all of them she can climb
She can even be a villain
for a moment in time
Every story she shares
is a pearl from her mind
Do not pass by to quickly
there are treasures to find
So as you read her words
offer her some thoughts
For this word worthy habit
is a garden, of Forget-Me-Nots
Really, really got my head messed up in Iraq, but
eventually I got a Medal of Bravery for killing people-
(Veterans are soon forgotten.) Searching for help
on line, a revolution group put twisted ideas in my head, and
let me find a use for my soldier skills and a purpose for my life,
Until then my entire existence in civilized society had been meaningless,
then, I heard the sublime message to kill-
It didn't take long to legally gather up some big guns, then
on a bright summer day, I went on a rogue killing spree, where
no one is left standing,. All is quiet for a moment then I am killed too.
____________________________
January 11, 2017
Acrostic
Inspired by the contest, You Say You Want A Revolution