Long Historic Poems
Long Historic Poems. Below are the most popular long Historic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Historic poems by poem length and keyword.
Written: July 24, 2024 For Canstance La France Contest
Quote: "the drums of time have ceased
and my fragile soul is a sea of tears" By Constance la France
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Along a scarcely hidden wooded trail
the sun is going to set in the north
with hawks and ancient oaks as companions
wandering in silence, I pursue my quest
the world shines brightest in ivory twilight
lush mossy sticks
to the soothing granite
winged sparrow rushes toward its perch
yet, amid the stillness,
I feel utterly lonesome...
these woodlands contain historic forest
their stems provide a comfortable resting place...
they wrap around me, with such loving fingertips...
when my brain gets flooded
with pessimistic pondering...pondering...
while roaming in quietness, I chase my quest
passion for life is beating in my chest.
yet, I am solely lonesome in this stillness
I meditate quietly in that spot
behold meticulously groomed crawl
among hues and patterns,
calmly lounging...
I am riveted by their charm and ferocity
they opt not to challenge their rights...
neither sigh nor sorrow
under meaningless weights
I acknowledge the blessings upon their humble beings.
still, I am utterly isolated
in this quietness...quietness...
thus, when the tide of negativity
doubts and concerns have crested...
and profound dread
has penetrated me to the bone
following that path
I fulfill my soul's wish.
I am completely alone in this darkness.
Too often
someone stretches the truth until it becomes the lie
and then defends its falsehood for all to hear and believe in
but some wiser ones sense the truth that lay hidden
grab it by its fallacies and turn the tide to see reality,
no denial, no deferment, no deflection, no delusion, no defense,
only a bastille of truth to be reckoned with.
Which direction do you go
holding onto untruths, errors, mistakes, missteps, outright lie
of the braggarts and the bullies, the loudest shouters in the room
or sweep away every lie to see the steps you're taking
to mold and secure the futures for our children, all children
knowing historic lessons of time
that what we leave behind - is us and what we believe in,
truth, justice, the American Way.
Work in Progress
Mauna Loa Volcano & Kilauea Sister Volcano
The political and spiritual symbolism of Mauna Loa’s historic eruption
“We’re seeing new land, new geographical features being born right in front of our eyes, and there is no power — no human power — that can stop it or can deter it,” one Native Hawaiian scholar said.
“The Native people have been saying this isn’t your place to extract and profit from anymore,” said Kaniela Ing, co-founder of Native Hawaiian-focused organization Our Hawaii and a former state legislator. “You don’t have authority to shape our sacred lands.”
The eruption, Ing said, “is Pelehonuamea saying, ‘They’re right. My people are right.’”
The deity Pele, often referred to as “Tutu Pele,” or Grandmother Pele, has been regarded as an ancestor who “creates new land” as hardened, molten lava adds to the surrounding terrain.
— KU’UALOHA HO’OMANAWANUI, AUTHOR OF “VOICES OF FIRE: REWEAVING THE LITERARY LEI OF PELE AND HI’IAKA.”
Mauna Loa, on the island of Hawai’i and alongside the dormant, snowcapped volcano Mauna Kea, is expected to continue erupting for weeks. Thus far, the lava flow has significantly slowed and does not pose a threat to communities, the Hawaii Emergency Management Agency said. However, authorities expect it to eventually reach Daniel K. Inouye Highway, which is less than four miles away, in roughly a week or more.
Sights, that will always arouse
Sights, some we second guess
Sights, that raze your eye brows
Sights, that always have intrest
Sights, like those for sore eyes
Sights, some give you eye strain
Sights, leave you mesmerised
Sights, some we try to retain
Sights like those that are historic
Sights some are so memrorbale
Sights those that are photogenic
Sights some are just sensational
Sights, are not always that pleasent
Sights, can some times be sacry
Sights, some are just so evident
Sights, there's all so much to see
Written 2012 by myself david scott inspierd by
other soup members and own experances
over years following on from now and then
thoughts feelings with you with out you poems
updated a bit better than befo
The Poetry Contest
I'll tell you a tale, I'm sure you'll agree
It'll interest those who write poetry
A poets contest
To find one who's best
To go down in historic anthology.
For the contest a massive hall was found
Poets arrived in droves from miles around
Some flew in by plane
By boat others came
With great expectations of being crowned.
The first prize was a case of finest wine
Poets revised their work so they'd sound fine
Some went weak and freaked
Others loudly shrieked
All coveting the prize - juice of the vine.
First up was a Scot with the name of McNee
He'd supped too much beer 'cos it was cost free
Then his beer he spilt
Wind blew off his kilt
Thus his ‘endowment' the whole world could see.
Next came Pam, like a glam model she dressed
She breathed deeply and out popped her huge breast
With thunderous roar
Guys yelled out for more
With an eyewink she said 'I am the best'.
28th December 2020
Today, I was reminiscing about Independence Day celebrations of yesterday,
And how happy throngs commemorated the day as compared to today.
Corona virus and rowdy mobs have seized our orderly domain;
I'm left wondering! Will the Fourth of July ever be the same again?
I recall home-town parades with John Deere tractors and prancing horses;
Marching men and women in uniform representing our armed forces;
Will this year, unruly rabble riot and treat Old Glory with disdain?
I'm left wondering! Will the Fourth of July ever be the same again?
I recall flags displayed along Main Street undulating in the air;
And spirited Sousa tunes played by the high school band with flair;
I recall picnics in the park and backyard barbeques with friends and kin;
I'm left wondering! Will the Fourth of July ever be the same again?
I recall concerts by the Philharmonic Orchestra in Memorial Park;
And the magnificent fireworks later when daylight turned to dark;
Will this year, misguided goons topple historic monuments they consider vain?
I'm left wondering! Will the Fourth of July ever be the same again?
I have many fond memories of The Fourth in my nearly nine decades,
Teaching my kids the significance of the day and marching in parades.
I pray the courage of The Founders will not have been spent in vain.
I'm left wondering! Will the Fourth of July ever be the same again?
Bob Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
What am I ....and Who!?
that this eternal flame will not go out...and stay OUT!?
the unadulterated everlasting blaze
flows from these
my poetic finger tips
in spirons of orange and red and blue ...flames of you
this river of our conflagration
scars the OUR
runs down my tresses
charts pathways ...forms canyons
incinerates and shapes
torches and carves...the psychic ALL walls
Canyons....of mercury and steely mir
a heroine, a hero ...and hell
why ??
Yesterday...was so innocent and so was I
if not for resting a palm upon a chair
...a club stool in a little dark historic bar filled with small white lights and sweetest memories
...psychedelic indeed... a blood scent!
I rested my hand only for a moment...but hearing your angry words
of loss...as you turned on me
the river broke free of the damn
and the door mat in the hall where you first stood
started laughing
I should have known there were toxic remembrances lurking on surfaces there
the sticky atoms of recall ...I should have stayed away!
purest tears sprung instantly unbidden
and deepest sadness dressed me in blue
swept away by atomites
and dripping with this immortal rainbow
I am falling fall ing
staining
the page of the universe
but for just another day
The strong wind blows wildly today
As masses of green trees sway
Just like the flames burning cities
In our country atrocities
Attacked within, anger explodes
With violence, our country implodes
Business destroyed, our flag burned
Violence spreads where hatred is churned
Police cars in flames, stations gone
Chaos in front of white house lawn
Graffiti left everywhere
Vile words written without a care
Churches, courts and historic sites
No law and order, flashing lights
Wreckage in multiple places
Torn down cities, crying faces
Justice twisted into revenge
By thousands who want to avenge
The strong wind blows wildly today
Turning our country into dismay
It is hard to recognize now
An attack we can’t stop, somehow
As the wind blows, I wonder why
Healing takes so long, when we try
Heidi Sands
5/31/20
Capital Growing valuables,
liquid and solid infrastructural,
are also sacred AnthroElder artifacts for
Future cooperative co-investment,
health preferring multicultural control
over thoughtlessly biased
ego left hemisphere privileged
AnthroSupremacist competitions
with other
lesser beings
competitively anxious
about sufficiency of Earth's healthy systemic limits
on perpetual economic
anti-ecologically dissonant
Over-development
of remaining
positively deviant
multiculturally resilient health care systems
giving and polyculturally receiving
back to pre-historic timeless time
regenerating win/win cooperative
EarthMatriarchal
domestically nonhistoric
everyday sensory-neural experiences
of resilient bliss
seldom captured inside historically sanctified
patriotic national identity development
Non left-hemisphere dominant
yet felt Warm Wet Wombing
WorldWide Webbing
interdependently reweaving Stories of
Climate health potential
through Cooperative Rule GoldStandards
for multiculturally AnthroCentric optimization
of resilient health,
as left-hemisphere appreciated
and robustly co-invested
in right-hemisphere eco-political
interdependently inclusive
Democratic wealth
looks and feels quite different
than StraightWhitePrivilegedPatriarchalism
Business as WestBrain EmpireBuilding Usual
YangPower v YintegralEnlightenment,
RightWing discameral imbalance;
Threat to climates of resilient Health
right here and now
in globally interdependent
healthy communication history,
Whose messaging could you discern
interweaving trust
and mistrust
and active distrust
From which sources
and resources
do you listen?
and draw
and most intelligently
Bicamerally design
for cooperative,
Liberal liberating love
for mutual co-investment
in multicultural wealth
political win/win healthy
empowering enlightened resonance,
emergent green democratic resilience,
Non-violently cooperative
socio-economic capital growing valuables,
liquid yintegral and solid yang infrastructural,
are also sacred AnthroElder artifacts for
Future extended family's
cooperative economic health
ecological wealth
in cooperative ecopolitical investments.
The Medusa
I painted a picture of a tranquil bay, a red boathouse
rowing boat, golden pebbles in shallow water
naturally, the sky was blue, the mountain afar hazy.
A noise upstairs, the woman rearranging furniture
doesn’t go out and gets bored, breaking the dream.
When she was done, I looked at the painting again
it had changed; the boathouse had holes in the roof
the mountain was too close, gloomy and snowy
In the sea, a medusa, with tentacles reaching
70 years back in time when the aside was spoken
lasted into the future.
The sting of the medusa had a woman’s face, stung.
When the aim of the bite had gone, the hurt had not
putrid through the ages, a wound that does not heal.
The upset said: “we can no longer tolerate this slight
against us.” We are a proud nation.”
No one knew what the remark was about, it had been
vindictive, and a demand for a historic apology was issued.
Sabre rattling, ambassadors left armies at borders
war broke out.