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.


Premium Member Ghosts of Gettysburg

This sacred soil that once resounded with the musket's rattle,
Imbued with mingled blood of Blue and Gray spilt in brutal battle,
Now stands serene with only whisperings of the restless ghosts,
Of gallant men who sacrificed their all among the frenzied hosts.

Are those the sighs of vagabond souls heard with each subtle breeze,
As zephyrs rustle the dancing leaves of stalwart, guardian trees?
Is that the winter's wind that shrieks about Round Top Hill,
Or the screams of dying troopers, their fatal destiny to fulfill?

Are those the moans of men left to die, their laurels won,
Or the boles of ancient pines groaning 'neath the searing sun?
The wind wafts tall grasses that on The Wheatfield grow;
Could this be waves of spectral infantry, advancing row by row?

Lightning flashes and thunder echoes across the rolling sectors,
Reminiscent of once roaring cannon, now long-silent specters.
The battle was o'er with the repulse of daring General Pickett;
Thousands of souls lay dead on bloody field and tangled thicket.

Lincoln's powerful address yet echoes o'er that hallowed clay,
To honor heroes, no matter the color of cloth they wore that day.
Do their fretful spirits yet roam, wondering if they died in vain?
Rest in peace dear souls - because of you this nation rose again!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired 
© All Rights Reserved

Placed No. 4 the Fraser/Devonshire "Dazzle Us With History" Contest - Jan 2011
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member September Pursuits

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

The Age of Bully Boys

Welcome
to the age of the bully boys
 pulling little girls curls and stealing others toys
 unraveling the flag as it unfurls of a nation divided
 shouting louder and defiant babblery so misguided
 posturing without intelligible commentary
 while the rights and needs of the people are ancillary
 cut and bleeding like on open heart's coronary;

a time of liars and deniers, deflectors and excusers
 speculation on heroes, the winners and the losers
 a pause of common sense and courtesy adversary
 a forgotten loss of once-great American constabulary;

 an excuse for mistakes made by behooves
 by the shakers and the non-political movers
 the baby boomers of the sixties dream once a plenty
 now, without memory of the changes of the century;

tell me what you'll say
 when comes your children's day
 and the question they will ask
 where did you stand in the past?

Did you stand for freedom or walk the party lines
 tell what purposeful intrigue did you find?
 was it only the loudest voice, the elephant in the room
 taking honesty and silence permitting America to doom?

Step aside bully boys, American dreams are still here
 and the people's voice grows louder, every day more clear
 justice, freedom and equality for all
 make a choice, it's your last call.
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.

Part Ofour Country's History

I see your scars that time can't erase
 I hear the cries of a forgotten race
 The suffering and death that was felt by you
 The story that till now had been hidden from view
 They called you savages with no belief in God
 But how could these pious men have done what they did
 And still believe in God
 Women and children slaughtered as though they were wild game
 A country calling these men heroes we know them by name
 It's not too late for all to see
 It's time to write history with the truth for all to see
 We look for no honor or glory
 Just the right to tell the true story
 A story of a people who were proud and free
 And our true part in our country's history
Form:

Premium Member People of demise, with an undeserved fate, like a defeated dream

People of demise, with an undeserved fate, like a defeated dream,
With dead dinosaurs, my eternity embroidered by extended time.
May new beings be born from the manure of life, all at once,
Identifiable in the ecology of the world, sometimes alive-alive.
The emotion of the sun, an immense mirror in which we lose ourselves,
I, the animalistic poet, reflecting God in verses that burn.
Blinding us in all things, our gazes are strange shards,
My words deceitful, vinous, full of bubble-poems, oceans.
Feeding hungry thoughts, wrapped in vain hopes,
For I have died formally, before my time, in empty days.
To the venal criminals, secretly scolding life's partners,
Covering the sunken graves under the impenetrable rain.
Under the rain's immensity, measurable, we catch ourselves in a dance,
The supposed heroes, pure sources of lightning, with pale color,
Bringing from the horizon the languid light, the extinguished dusk,
The humanity in me and in him, balancing the dawns in dreams.
Beloved, the night tilts the balance of dawns that intoxicate us,
In the paradox of life, where light and darkness get drunk.
© Dan Enache  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Why I Love Writing Poetry

Why I Love Writing Poetry?

Did I mean why I love writing poems?
Nevertheless, I love writing poems or poetry:
To simply have fun, make others happy,
Inspire and defend others; to fan the flames
Of fairness, and to seek justice, fairness for the weak,
The innocents, the underprivileged, and the sick;
I can go on and on until I lose consciousness.
I love expressing myself with elegance and neatness.
Ordinary jerks always make fun of the Poets, that's not new;
And the Poets know darn well how to take care of them too.
Poets have thick skin; they are Heroes without fears.
They struggle, fight, write, raise hell and wipe their tears.
Sorry, if I am going astray, that's what I do best,
Sometimes, like any human being, I like to make a mess.
That's why I love writing essays, poems or poetry:
To simply have fun, and to make others happy.
At the same time, I want others to criticize, and castigate.
I make my own decisions, and can determine my own fate.
Poets have thick skin, and by nature have no fears.
Please swallow your frown, your smile, and wipe your tears.

Hebert Logerie Monday, January 26, 2015
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member 17 Gray Street - Port of Spain

              
As sheriff chasin’ on the run
                    I shot at outlaw and injun 
with my colt Pony Boy cap gun
                   my badge pinned to my chest.
When a neighbour I’d hear and see
                climbin’ up a big mango tree
bawlin’ “jack spanias bitin’ me!”
                       swarmin’ around the nest

He ran into my fender guard
  as the wheels spun a loud spoke card
ridin’ my bike in Nanan’s yard
                      and soon his knee did gape.
So I pullin’ its string in flight
     flew instead my prized Batman kite
and watched it fly at a great height
                       in my Bat mask and cape

In floodin’ storm canals we’d lay
                racin’ popsicle sticks all day
then crawl under the house to play
                     where we’d forbidden sneak.
Or leapin’ in a mighty bound
           but not makin’ a ghostly sound
hidden somewhere I can’t be found
                        playin’ hide and go seek

On the battlefield that I led
          my toy soldiers killed Nazis dead
along with every Jap and Red
                             till tender age of eight.
Silks and riders I’ll not forget
         when my brother and I would bet
on our hand-wound horse racin’ set
                  windin’ up the home straight

The girls all arms and legs pumpin’
played hopscotch and skip rope jumpin’
as the boys were crazy bumpin’
                               crashin’ my pedal car.
But we kids did roam and skylark
            till in the far distance we’d hark
Monica callin’ in the dark
                      “come, wherever you are!”

I cheered as a wicket would fall
                    heroes over The Oval wall
like Carew, Sobers, Lloyd, and Hall
                 from grandad’s house upstairs.
But my greatest heroes bar none
      whom I love and whom I champion
gave me dear life and called me son
                   all through their livin’ years


               Written: May 1996
Form: Lyric

In a Land of Concocted Dreams

Slowly our pride fades away
Like a smoke entwined with the air
Rots and decaying dreams
Sends waves of pity upon our soul.

We were drafted like soldiers-
Into the four walls of a classroom
Watching as our destiny was being decided by a system filled with avarice.

Oh! I would like to be a teacher
Or simply be a doctor.
I would like to be a lawyer
Or simply a farmer.

So we learnt the abc
And meant to see what failing could be.
Up the chain we moved
As time moved along with our being.

Then as we grew, reality wagged its tail at us.
And struggle called a bluff of our person.
How do we move along?
What if all we laboured for went wrong?

In this land the veil was lifted from our faces
As we watch the same system
Which has been the sole determiner of our fate
And our dreams became steam of vapour as we-
Take over the baton from where our parents left,
Running a race which we knew not the number of laps left.

We pledged our allegiance
To serve this great nation,
And give from our ration-
Those whom we can help survive this oppression.

As daylight turns night
And days matured into years
We watch as souls drift to a world beyond
And dreams die before the call of dawn.
We watch as our friends leave the shores of their fatherland-
And drop their allegiance for alien ones.

Now that we have grown
And ready to reap all we have sown,
Only to learn that all we laboured for really wasn't our own.
We have to serve a system
Filled with corrupt leaders
We were locked-up in class all these years
Only to be subdued with fear.

In a land of concocted dreams
Is just where we have been all along,
Singing ourselves sullen song
Watching thieves became heroes
And innocent men languish in jail.

In a land of concocted dreams
Hopelessness is just a plague
Ready to consume all elements of hope.
Chaos, murder and tribalism  ransack our being
Stealing and oppression is an everyday thing.
sad
Form: Narrative

Premium Member President's Day

~President's Day~
(Rhyming couplet)


Today in the USA we honor two great men 
They both did wonderful deeds for our country, Amen. 

George Washington, is our founder father, 
Lincoln abolished slavery among brother. 

These two great men had very good intentions, 
They gave their all and meant to relieve tensions. 

They both believed in their hearts what was best, 
And fought for what was right and passed their test. 

In my heart I do really admire these two great men, 
They believed in something and acted on that back then. 

History praises and sees them as heroes today, 
They were great men, and get my respect in  every way. 



Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2010



February.15.2016
Form: Couplet

Offenseless

Surrender your ill feeling
Exchange it for due healing
Years have seen you offended
And they hoarded all that God intended
In position, provision and power.
That you grumble at the hour
And all the dreams and perks unforthcoming
Rage and unease in your heart are swarming
It makes your chest to heavy to bear
And if a cloak, too heavy to wear

With such a soul borne stain
Wouldn't power only swell the pain
Wouldn't treasure trample even the sacred
Praise for calibre would go to rebellion instead
And in the wake of heroes of wars
Will be the mourning of scores
So has God in love and wisdom
Refrained many from the spoils of the Kingdom
To save them and to save others
Lest even the staunchest faith withers

Every heart rests on His scales
And let it come to pass that after many fails
That I soonest lay down every burden
And cease to be lost amongst the brethren
Sanctify myself into a vessel of honour
Fear and trembling be salvation's working manner
Pressing on like those that God made great.
That I may grow in stature and in state
In time, in step and in tune
So I and destiny can commune

K. Muitherero.
Form: Rhyme

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