Long Heroes Poems
Long Heroes Poems. Below are the most popular long Heroes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Heroes poems by poem length and keyword.
People don't understand,
Nobody can seem to comprehend,
The pain I'm plagued with and must with stand,
Only those who've had such experiences first hand understand,
Your completely clueless clearly,
Otherwise your speech would be sincere sincerely,
Your frustrations and frantic feedback lacks feelings, to be frank,
Wrinkled brows surrounded by an air of disbelief and your eyes blank,
I'm in such pain such anguish such agony,
The pain increasing constantly more and more rapidly,
You dont understand how could you comprehend,
A pain worthy of suicidal pleas,
To beg for a remedy whatever the cost maybe,
A sale to satan condemning my soul for eternity,
The payment a sacrifice I'd pay any currency,
I'd dance with the dead the devils most thoroughbred,
I'd dive the deepest seas to seek my pearl in the oyster beds,
I'd twist and twirl with tornadoes,
I'd pray to the powerful Egyptian pharaohs,
If they could cure me and be my heroes,
I'm in such pain such anguish so much agony,
I'd do anything to be free cross the globe travel the galaxy,
Screaming Abdabs is what we've named it,
The definition extreme screaming sounds a perfect fit,
I lie crying and screaming to the pain I have to submit,
No medicine relieves the pain
Is this life of suffering really humane,
I pray for a miracle from the main man,
That he will end my misery or my lifespan,
The suffering is to much for me and it would be for you,
Narcotics are great when you first start out it’s true,
But they soon the relief will leave you strung out,
Addiction sets in and you can no longer function without,
Its no longer working for me as pain relief should be,
A cruel circle which never ends a record repeating constantly,
You want to delete the track and play a new soundtrack
Hahaha good luck with that,
As it just repeats and your heading straight back,
I'm in pain I'm in anguish repetitive agony,
I'm fighting a war against my own body,
I have finally surrender And i have lost honorably.
Angela is our oldest, she was the prettiest baby imaginable
Her large blue eyes from her Daddy’s side of the family, spoke volumes.
She had a gorgeous face and curls that danced when she toddled.
We thought she was all that and she was.
At nineteen months she became a big sister, and she took it seriously.
Tracy, our second, became her “baby”. She adored her, loved hugging her.
We could not prop her bottle though because Angela would confiscate it
And lie under the crib drinking it with gusto, as she had recently been weaned.
Angela was allergic to everything green, so she preferred inside to outside.
She had weekly allergy shots when she was five; it broke my heart.
She loved school until some big boys she could not identify ambushed her.
It was the first time I let her walk by herself. I held her and sobbed.
When she was seven she got a new baby Sister, Susie. She claimed her.
Telling me one day “You don’t have any idea what this baby means to me.”
She was an avid book reader, had a fantastic sense of humor and a terrific laugh.
Constantly tried to please everyone, which was impossible.
As a preteen she painted her room black and went “Goth” years before anyone else.
I knew it was not a reflection on her soft heart and was unconcerned.
At 16 she was hooked on romance novels, so I took her to a Romance Writers Conference.
We had the best time; and she met her favorite romance writer, Helen Mittermeier,
Helen Mittermeier was gracious and asked Angela what her favorite books were.
Angela could name her heroines, heroes, and tell her the plot of her books.
Helen asked her who her “second favorite author was”.
Angela named someone, and Helen’s entire table of women writers burst out laughing.
Angela’s second favorite author was Helen Mittermeier, using an alias.
They were totally impressed.
Angela went to college and became a designated driver on campus.
No surprise; she always likes nurturing people.
She joined the Air Force when she was in her twenties. I was stunned.
My little powder puff joining the Air Force? What?
She did great; to this day she is a federal employee.
She is a GS16 which is high up.
I have always been proud of my daughter, but my pride was bursting
When she gave the eulogy at my mother’s funeral.
No one could have done a better job.
I am sure my mother was proud too.
On the stony wall laid the handprints of heroes;
Their bloody prints serving as a reminder of the past
Their fight for freedom was a rocky journey
With the air mixed with the scents of blood and gun powder and the little voices of freedom in them
They fought for their country even though victory was lacking on their side.
Their hardwork, courage, determination and faith helped them through their journey
At the end of the day, even if they didn't win,
They knew their efforts had made a great change for their country.
The wall that separated their land and their enemy's land was that stony wall;
The wall where their handprints laid,
Paved way for their country to continue to fight for freedom and to not let their efforts go to the drain.
Say bye-bye to these:
"Hold, please." (Hold what?)
Typewriter Repairman Ads
"Dial this number..." (What's 'dial?')
Down-time... Offline
Compliments (Complaint Departments have swallowed them up).
"Mail me your resume."
Shame, and its cousin, Guilt
Pay Phones and Phone Booths (Sorry, Superman)
Cash (esp. pennies)
"How do you do?" (How do I what?!)
"Chick," "Piece," "Stacked," "Hot Number"
The Debt Ceiling
Brown Suits
Brown Fedoras
White Bread
White Big-City Mayors (in the USA)
Math Facts
Grammar & Grammar Schools
Heroes
Good Samaritans
Public Drinking Fountains (except for dogs and cats)
All but Mega-Gigantic Hospitals
Modesty
Cash Bail
Drug Busts
'Land Lines'
Gasoline-fueled automobiles
Private Health Insurance
Private Doctors
Free Museums
Disturbing the Peace
Roth IRA's (at least, Roth IRA's whose distributions are tax-free)
Peacetime Economies
Gun Laws (The Wild West roars back)
Non-Mixed Use Zoning Laws
Fair Elections (Did we ever really have them?)
Ideals, Idealists, Idealism
The 'Renaissance Man'
Daily Newspapers, Print AND Digital
The 'Weather Channel'
META
Music Majors, Art Majors, Anthropology & Sociology Majors
Cooperation
Cashiers
Receptionists
Cleaning Services
'Straight People'
Teachers
'The Four Freedoms'
Courts (You'll get a ticket and either pay or go to jail...)
Courtroom Lawyers
'Law and Order' Politicians
Non-TV Ministers
Dentures
Non-union University Personnel
Non-gated upper middle class and upper class housing
Neighborhood Watch Groups
Public Schools
Childhood
Non-government Day Care
Nursery School and Kindergarten
Free Public Libraries (You'll pay for those Drag Shows, lol!)
Free-TV
Non-Tip Services
'The Great American Novel'
The Home of the Brave -- Oops! (I mean, of the 'Guardians!')
'Lesbos' and 'Homos' (Can you believe we used those terms?!)
Marital Sex (What for?)
Foreplay (Now it's just "Fore! Here I cum!")
~ Roger Dodger, Over & Out!
The Chicken and the Egg
Woke up fearing the blood sugar
was too low, so I went into the kitchen to get something to eat
found under a platter, a small fried chicken leg
I thought chicken legs were getting smaller and smaller
They must kill the chicken as soon as they get out of the egg
Not a chance for them to be yellow, innocent babies
as painted on the wall in the pre-school visited by a
32-year-old veteran of 8 wars.
It goes without saying that veterans are heroes defending
say, America, from being invaded by all and sundry
But we know the war they fight and often die for is
in the service of warmongers and Israel
wild thrill of the chase
as surroundings catch fire
turns nation to waste
munition's flash we admire
situation growing dire
no promises made
more important things to do
the rules must be obeyed
propaganda skews the view
of who has done what to who
flames leaping higher
unseen future shall survive
in the muck and mire
best apologists will thrive
history gets out alive
courage tempers soul
heroes come and heroes go
some left less than whole
mayhem many know
the cost of fighting the foe
beyond the conflict
smooth narrator turning pages
wounds the news inflict
all wisdom of the sages
unread as battle rages
breeding arrogance
power supporting power
without variance
greed guilds the shining tower
dregs of truth, bitter and sour
so easy to start
war almost free to enter
then comes the hard part
invasion setting tenor
pulling out, the tormentor
on and on it goes
quick beginning with no end
branded by war's throes
bloody quagmire we descend
not just gods which we offend
Sweat through labor's fervent pace.
You pitiful dog,
You minuscule cog,
Lest you vanish off the face
Of the earth without a trace.
Don't dare threaten profit gain
When you don't understand
Why wealth could own the land
For which your fathers died in vain.
That you may see your heroes slain.
If you find you disagree...
Take to the streets,
Face my marching fleets.
Just hold your ground and do not flee.
Your weaknesses are mine to see.
Yet, if the fear has gripped your heart.
Don't act like a jerk.
Just go back to work,
And let me fuel your tortured art,
Before I rip your soul apart.
I saw on the TV yesterday
that you took home the bronze,
a woman who barely qualified,
whose odds were rather long.
You had the skate of your life,
with lutzes and salchows,
congratulations are in order,
this is your moment now.
And you who won the silver,
I understand your pain,
favored heavy to win it all,
but falling short again.
Edged out by a hundredth,
that must be hard to bear,
but what you have done today
is no reason to despair.
We can’t forget the gold now,
or the media’s new golden boy,
so stoked about victory
that his interviews annoy.
He thinks he is the greatest,
and he proclaims as much,
guess the gold went to his head,
the fans are thinking such.
Yet all his spoiled antics,
and the decadence of fame,
makes me think of a medal
that is much better made,
not won for a mere sport,
or racers out of the gate,
won by men who truly have
accomplished something great.
Won by men with no mini-balls
charging down Little Roundtop,
stabbing at a grey horde
through fire, smoke, and shot.
Won amidst a tribal chorus
of shrieking, shrill war cries
when two American peoples
could not bridge the divide.
Won in the muddy trenches
amidst the gas and poison,
and flying through skies above
to find the Lost Battalion.
Won by that Great Generation,
they’re not made like that no more,
men who charged Iwo’s black sand,
and Normandy’s bloody shores.
Won in the forgotten war,
by a sacrifice at Kangdong,
and in the high elephant grass
fighting tyrant Viet Cong.
Earned in mountains and cliffs
of savage Afghanistan,
won by people who exemplify
the true greatness of man.
This medal is so revered
but it needs to be said,
these heroes rarely wear them,
cause most of them are dead.
It may take some courage
to be the best on a ski,
but it takes so much more
to battle for this country.
I think this when I see them,
young bucks claiming prestige,
can’t expect much perspective
since half of them are teens,
and I do not say all of this
because their gold is not deserved,
I say it so our highest praise
goes to medals made of Honor.
In our country’s
calendar of events
September is replete with
pursuits worth enumerating
reminding me to bask in meaningful
involvements, optimizing God-granted strength
midst pressure, propelled by blissful functionality.
With well-being focus…
I learned that September 16-22
is Cerebral Palsy Awareness Week,
thus, my schedule seeks for appropriate
on-line seminars for the sake of our special child.
As to educational endeavours
Sports Heroes Day was celebrated
on the 10th, while all virtual classes for
Academic Year 2021-2022 did start last 13
along festivities like Family Thanksgiving Day.
Then birthdays and anniversaries
of loved ones radiate with greetings...
thus, fellowships abound, although compliance
to social distancing and health protocols is practiced.
Topping these all, September
commences Christmas celebration…
now, here am I preparing for my teaching
engagement, grateful to God for opportunities
to do* my life-building roles, with joy and diligence.
Philippians 4:13 I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.
September 17, 2021
On the open fields across the river
Where the land is parched sallow
The patchy grass in cold quiver
When the freezing icy winds blow!!
The grassy fields have tales to tell,
Of heroes and the many dead,
Of blood, of flesh that painful yell
As they are felled by enemy lead!!
Man against man in evil spite,
Reasons why? They hardly knew!
Religion? politics? Who was right,
Knew not who, and why they slew?
In boats and floats they came ashore,
With boots and hat camouflaged,
Young guns, stayed close to the floor,
Fright On face and veins engorged!
This was a job they were paid to do,
They were trained to kill or be killed,
No time to think or fate to rue,
But get the given tasks fulfilled.
The ruling men had rolled the dice,
And blew the horn for this crime,
Their words were bitter, cold lies
Greed for power, earn more dime!!
The truth is known from eons past,
That no country ever has won a war!
No gain is worth the lives lost,
painful memories and battle scar!
Still battles rage on years on end,
Those ruling men with evil plans!
Not for values, morals to defend,
But to benefit their native clans!
Across the river on desolate land,
where memories hurt, eyes are wet!
Crying hearts await, a helping hand,
But history repeats, no answers yet!!
Since we replay the events past,
Many more tears may yet be shed,
In political rants, the truth is lost,
And for a greedy few, many are dead!
Can we ever end these terrible pains!
And learn to understand the inner soul?
From love and peace there’s much to gain!
Shouldn’t that be Our life’s goal?