Long Horn Poems
Long Horn Poems. Below are the most popular long Horn by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Horn poems by poem length and keyword.
With the end of days upon them
Nears the time of final battle
In the halls of high Valhalla
Asgard senses its death rattle
In the forest crows the rooster
In the sky the sun does darken
In the cave the hound is howling
To these signs the Aesir harken
Heimdall blows the Gjallarhorn
Dark the rainbow bridge is turning
Vivid lightning cleaves Yggdrasil
Then the central tree is burning
Aesir watch in fascination
See volcanoes spew like fountains
See the heavens splitting open
See the oceans climb the mountains
See the continents convulsing
See the forests burn to ashes
See the sons of Mim awaken
In the fatal lightning flashes
As the winds consume the wasteland
From the south Surtr advances
With his minions tearing corpses
Bright his sword and sharp his lances
Aesir then prepare their weapons
Eyes are clear and arms are steady
The Midgard serpent Jörmungandr
Upon the battle plain is ready
With his heavy hammer Mjolnir
Strides the mighty god of thunder
To do battle with the serpent
And to rend the world asunder
June 30, 2014
N.B. This poem is an Epyllion, a brief narrative poem with a romantic or mythological theme. It is written in trochaic tetrameter, like some of the ancient Eddas.
Glossary:
Ragnarök - Final battle and death of the Aesir
Aesir - The Norse gods
Asgard - one of the Nine Worlds and home of the Aesir
Valhalla - a majestic, enormous hall located in Asgard, ruled over by the chief Norse god Odin
Heimdall - A Norse god who blows his horn to signal the beginning of Ragnarök
Gjallarhorn - Heimdall's horn
Midgard- Middle Earth, or the world of humans
Bifröst - the burning rainbow bridge between Midgard and Asgard
Yggdrasil - The sacred Norse central tree that holds the Nine Worlds
Mim - an Asian renowned for his knowledge and wisdom who has been beheaded. Odin carries around Mím's preserved head and it recites secret knowledge and counsel to him.
Surtr- a fire troll with a flaming sword who sets the world on fire.
Jörmungandr- The world serpent or ouroboros that surrounds the earth and grasps his own tail. When he lets go, the world will end. Jörmungandr's arch-enemy is the god Thor.
Thor - The Norse god of thunder
Mjolnir - Thor's hammer and principal weapon
6.
Arlaghs, once more ready to advance,
this could be their final chance,
to turn, for them, the battle fought,
to destroy the mortal, they had sought.
yet now, know this would not be.
mortals would this day be free,
from the darkness across the plain,
blood was shed away, by tears of pain.
The Dark Man helped upon his feet,
this battle scene is now complete,
Turvehr, he is now by his side,
now, there is no place to hide,
Dark Man helped on back of friend,
now he'll fight until the end,
Arlagh's see the Dark Man near,
once again, their Dark hearts no fear,
One final push, once more into the fray,
tears are falling, human's calling,
as the fight runs too its end,
at Alahsar, that fateful day.
The Tigress, tears fall from her eyes,
she softly says her last goodbyes,
for she knows, at the end of this day,
the Dark Man shall have passed away.
Every eye shall have a tear,
the Arlagh's shaking now with fear,
"Walk In The Light,"
final cry, the Dark Man's call,
repeated now by one and all.
Forward for the final time,
Blood does flow, life's sweetest wine,
Utamol, now in final storm,
slashing, hacking, stabbing home.
Arlagh, now hanging his head,
His fate is written, on blade so red,
still, creatures of night battle on,
as they hear Death's mighty horn.
Life is gone, within battle's storm,
yet still, the Arlaghs battle on,
it is the only way they know,
death facing the foe, the way they must go.
The Tigress, fighting on with such skill,
her sword is thirsty for the kill,
her dance is the dance of Death,
those facing her, take their last breath.
Anger burns deep in her soul,
destroying the dark, her only goal,
She does all a warrior can,
she stays near to her Dark man.
The mists of time can't take away,
the horror felt upon this day,
at this time there is no glorious sight,
Arlagh's dispatched to their land of night.
battle over now, all mortals cheer,
except for the one crying sorrow's tear,
no more shall they be together,
Dark Man's dead body sits on Turvehr.
Cheers of victory are slowly muted,
agony of the heart, is better suited,
mortals fall upon their knees,
the Joy within their hearts, does freeze.
Many times the saviour of this dreamland,
he has made his final stand,
the tears of all begin to fall,
the Carynx has blown, one last, mighty call.
To Be Continued..........
A Man of Strength and Courage
(A Man Of Beauty And Respect)
A True Story
Who was he? He called himself the
unknown Poet, my great great great
grandmother's uncle Joe. He lived
a long exciting life, loving one woman
in time of war.
A Martin Trapper he was, an artist of fine
design, a poet in his time, a fine gentle
soul of the universe capturing each
thought writing them down in journals
and poetry.
If you should ask him what he believed
in! he would say; “I believed in God, sounds
of nature, love of mankind, love of words
anything to do with nature is where my
heart roams best.”
He was true to his own beliefs, a man
of heart, determination, a man who
would walk a mile in another man's shoes.
He was the heartbeat of the land, a
true mountain man of the wilderness.
He wore leather, long hair, beard a loving heart
for all animals including the bear, he grew
closer to as he traveled the mountains
year after year doing his Martin trapping
for food. He was a God-fearing man
of courage and strength all his own.
He was truly remarkable, who
fought with George Armstrong Custer
and the men of the 7th Cavalry where
they met their fate and the Sioux on June
25, 1886, at the Battle of the Little Big
Horn'. Uncle Joe was sent to get
reinforcements at the age of fifteen
when he returned, they found them all
mascaraed. Including (George Armstrong
Custer).
Many of his journals, poetry and
sketches were burned in a trailer
fire, but to this day, still remember
at a young age trying to read his poetry
I do remember seeing some of his sketches
he had sketched with pencil by candlelight
in his cabin in the winter in the Canadian
Mountains.
One sketch I remember well was of
a lovely lady dressed in a long gown
with hair piled high upon her head
she looked lovely.
That winter was long and cold and Joe
never returned home from his trapping
the Royal Mounted Police found him dead
next to the creek by his cabin. He died
of starvation.
This is just part of his story my great great
great grandmother told me of her uncle Joe. I
wish she would have told me more about his life.
I want to pass this on to my family so they can keep
passing it down from generation to generation.
Copyright ? DerenaBree( All Rights Reserved). Publishing ? Man of strength and Courage®( All Rights Reserved.)
Chapter..........1..........Part..........2..........3b.
The mounted riders,
they speed forwards,
Turvehr did kick with heaven's power,
his mighty horn tearing and rending,
His eyes,
afire with hates desire,
his coat,
it did shine like the raven's wing,
when kissed by Sol.
He was the destroyer of the evil fire,
to rend,
this was his work this day,
his heart a living flame,
pure hatred was his song,
to kick, toss and tear,
this would be his killing way.
Turvehr was a terror,
a light destroying the dark,
his horn now caked in bloody gore,
hatred ruled the battlefield this day,
great indeed was his majesty,
the glory of a darkened dawn.
Women watching,
cried out with fear,
when e'er an enemy came to near,
for love indeed, this day was born,
for Turvehr,
the king of the Unicorn.
Alahsar still had her gates,
mortal men,
their lives, they did lay down,
numbers falling,
Demons they did crawl,
The end of humanity? Dark hearts filled with hate.
From the gates a mighty moving,
womanhood coming forth with great haste,
Hate-filled eyes and voices of venom,
yelling out thunder as they come forth.
Now, into two groups,
these shield maidens do split,
one group heads for the Dunlaven bridge,
the other group, the fight on Badicha,
still, the foe seemed many more.
the Arlaghs ever to the fore,
a mighty foe begins to push,
the might of dark within each beast,
to hold this foe,
it would take mighty strength,
yet, strength was failing,
the Arlaghs, then, did mighty push.
Then to human dismay,
upon the left flank,
spiders, wolfs and their riders attack,
from the trees they come,
Arlaghs, they also come with this attack,
the cavalry on the left flank,
they are taken by complete surprise,
horses scream in fear as they begin to fall.
riders also crying out, as they die this day,
some shall lie on the bloody plain,
others within the bellies of flesh-eating enemies,
on seeing this, the women warriors hurry forth,
no order had the golden king given,
they had come,
against all orders.
Still, humans stand,
much blood does flow,
man and woman,
power did show,
children watching from on high,
as parents and friends slowly die,
Dark man fighting, vengeance dead,
the Tigress, she is spreading fear,
a bloody day for one and all,
"Blood For Blood," the mortal call.
To Be Continued.
Their is a God.In flesh we will not see his face.However we will see pieces of him in mother natures face. Natures aqua I indulge in, purity of his being and grace .I take a gander at shallow but deep water, and I nearly catch a glimpse of his face. A image we can not trace, looking into water searching for oddities timidly twinkling behind image of self, in mirror of water. Obfuscated by rays of sun complicating images reflected into water and image of water reflected in soul.None can be clearly perceived,that is mystery,that is the hidden God in all, you and me flower and tree, all covered by hazy mist to guard and separate ,what is and what is not to be know.For reasoning beyond comprehensions and perception.The hands of leaves graciously applaud and sings for a kingdom unknown or shown.A land that is inconceivable beyond feeble flesh and bone perhaps a place where every humans faith may or may not be etched in stone,but for certain we don't walk alone. The hands of leaves sings his song with grandiosity. Singing in code alongside hymns of enchanting species on earth. Songs we are told, but never told to be understood for our own good.If other wise we would all be doomed,for instance God blessed us with geniuses and we make weapons of mass destruction. Why should he unveil more mysteries and knowledge? To cause more malice and destruction? Animals and nature, chant songs of spiritual secrets, worldly an beyond secrets.This knowledge the forbidden fruit, only to suit the beings of another realm but still connecting us to it in ways the flesh can bear.If trees,birds and all of nature could talk human languages, mysteries would be no more. What happens when a bright light flashes in front your eyes? Don't you briefly lose sight? what happens when a loud horn blows in your ear doesn't it ring? The same concepts and effects applys with the high volumes and inconceivable power of our God and mysteries that follow. Imagine the the sounds, the sight and the feeling of the life beyond do you think the flesh can bear or withstand such insurmountable grandeur.The wind so much like God its never seen.The wind so much like God its effects are seen, but still remains invisible.The wind carry's breath death things of all volumes and that which feeble flesh cant perceive,I BELIEVE THE WIND IS GOD..... WHAT DO YOU THINK EINSTEIN.....
BY: Elliott Bowe
The Superhero Frog
Once upon a time,there was a frog named
Curious George
he swam in the lily pond and slept in a
hollow log,
It was a very comfortable place for a frog,
He swam and had great fun,
He warmed himself lying in the sun,
But George was often sad,lonely,and scared,
He didn't have any friends because no one
would dare,
Just because he was different, it seemed to
him no on cared.
All the town kids wouldn't play with him,
because of his long green sticky tongue and
his green skin,
Then one day, he heard some loud shouts!
He wondered what all the fuss was about,
He hippty-hopped through a hole in the
fence,
Then he was in grass so dense,
He could just barely see the sky,
This was how he got his name he was
always asking why?
But that was a question for another day,
For right now, he had to be on his way,
He hippity-hopped out on to the sidewalk,
He could hear some people talk,
But he just had to see,
What all the commotion could possibly,
possibly be,
Then he saw a little boy and girl playing ball
in the street,
They were not paying any attention to cars
or trucks they could meet,
An old rickety truck,with wobbly wheels,
bouncing springs, steam pouring from the
radiator spout,
went bouncing and wobbling down the street
with a clatter and bang,
the driver beep his horn happily along to his
song as he sang,
The kids and driver didn't hear the warning
shouts of
LOOK OUT! LOOK OUT!
George saw what was happening and quick
as a flash,
He hippity-hopped to the edge of the
sidewalk in a mad dash,
Then he stuck out his looooooonnnnnnnnng
sticky green tongue
as fffffffffffaaaaaaaaarrrr as he could,
He wrapped it around that boy and girl right
where they stood,
not enough space see my page,part 2 for the
rest of the story...
k river
8/12/14
Our roots run deep into the Philadelphia bells of acoustical waves of your musical melodies, sound in my distant ear, the sailors storm on the wooden ferry I ride, into the depths, of a swamps crossing, saved by the mind, we traveled together with a song in a line, oceans wake we travel across to a hay ride wedding and chowder horns of blessings we dine.
Rings true to the bells of a flashing red nose of St. Nicholas flight we sit and fight occupied by the Christmas Night. Songs we would sing from an Old English Story carried on by our families from generations ago. A musical history of wooden winds along with an Indian Pipe we remember from back then, the long journey of the stalagmites of millions of years you shown to me. Nature we live to see, what's right in front of me, horses we gallop to the lake filled with trout, and into the rivers of the Chattanooga with a stripped root beer of truth in its colors are bound into a saltwater taffy candy entwined.
Built from the foundation, a brick and a pebble, we rise through the years of lessons we learned, the barrel of two guns and logs of fire on a cold night.
A loss so great grief long and hard two people so young and so soon they were gone. Torn apart into a new life and it begins with the truth that lies beneath. From the strength above we pulled through.
Snowy rooftops and a seasons leaf, roaring rapids and a bridge line of cobble, a Water Wheel and Indian Tales in a Grey Stone Prayer of a white candle lit. We move along through it all filled with adventure and love carrying the music within to find ourselves back to the oceans again deep in our hearts. The Tropics we know.
Constructing the intelligence broad waters rise and a house from the 20's you kept alive, hard as it was a paradise you built, home you always were where ever you went.
My heart sank when the news came, I never have thought of a day without you. Brave I was with all that you survived, I made it through, darkness came and they attacked with secrets people never knew, I almost died, but came through because of you.
As years went by then at last comes a son I thought who lives in the memory of you. Lessons we learned will carry on to him too. Bless our lives with many more of you. As I sit here today missing you, all I can do is carry on...and hope to make you proud as I am of you.
An invisible string was created from the beginning of time,
it is wound around my horn, and bound to your heart
Invincible.
Each time your heart beats, you tug at this string,
drawing me closer to you
You are unaware of this, I love you
yet I fear and resist you, dear Lady
Not only have you captivated me, but my fate is in your hands
I am the last Unicorn in existence
Kings and nobles desire me for my horn,
for it can purify poisoned wells
and they know only you have power over me
Sweet virgin, all I ask is
one song to enchant my ears
one glimpse of your precious smile
one kiss from your ruby lips
one whiff from your perfumed dress
...a single stroke from your gentle hands
and I shall dream of you forever
Betray me not please by handing me to the men
Let me lay my horned head on your lap even just once…
then set me free
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
You are Testing me my rear precious unicorn,
every King has offered more than our beauty holds.
Unfold I will hide with you in a placed to protect us from every face.
Avoiding your poisonous horn, in which I fail to feed my soul with your purity.
I will move you from this revolution in which has troubled the monarchy.
Medieval strings of power to catch you~ your the last of your kind.
My Unicorn you are the medicine, the symbol ones seeks to rule darkness.
With passion I hold a belief that your horn can heal illness,
your strength will carry on.
Every time you returned to drink the waters of a no man's paradise,
I reach out to touch your radiance once a year.
Your horn can cure plague, rage, rabies, fever's and more!
Become my host let me wear you in this mystical amulet.
I will wear you as my jewelry while you lay your head on my lap.
My Unicorn of purity, I will never tell the ingredient and secrets we share,
as we got lost in each others stare.
I will ride with you and never betray your existence.
Together we will gather the fresh fruit and CORN~
My precious unicorn my virginity is your dignity.
Bathe with me throughout my immortal long and healthy life.
I'll sing you a song good night.
Ali-corn you are the weight in gold, all emperors, will fall at my feet.
One kiss with my red ruby lips!
I "guarantee" you a gift only we both see.
"If you'll believe in me, I'll believe in you!"
**a collaboration with pd ^_^!
She’s walking past the tombstones,
Just came from her mothers grave.
As she passes the last stone,
her hand graces the top,
A chill shoots down her spine.
The wind is blowing her hair in every direction,
While the leaves dance around her ankles.
Tears are rolling down her cheeks.
She’d just been talking to her mother for hours,
Longer then she ever had before.
She explained to her mother how her life had been tumbling downward,
Her boyfriend for 5 years had just broken up with her,
When she thought he was going to propose.
Her best friend since kindergarten had just embarrassed her,
in front of everyone.
Just to take her spot as Queen of the School.
She hears the train coming.
She’d been looking for an escape,
An escape of her sadness,
Of her embarrassment,
Of her LIFE.
And here is one, just being given to her.
Without even thinking,
She runs onto the tracks,
The engineer slams on the breaks,
Honking the horn all the while.
She grabs her phone out of her pocket,
Begins to text her father.
Just 5 simple words.
that will mean the word to him.
I’m sorry, I love you
She looks up at the stars shinning down on her,
then at the lights on the train.
She just keeps on staring,
Without even thinking,
Her mind goes blank.
The horn is honking,
While she just waits.
Her mind is beautifully empty,
While the train comes closer.
She stares down at the train from above,
While is halts to a stop, just 100 metres away.
Her lifeless body now mingled with the tracks,
Just lays there,
Motionless,
Breathless.
She begins to regret,
what she had just done,.
Her father wouldn’t be able to go on,
Her sister would be scared,
Her mother, if she were alive, would be ashamed.
To take a life, let alone your own,
Is a crime, that can never be undone.
There is no punishment great enough,
To serve justice.
She wishes more then anything to just turn back time,
To just erase what just occurred
To pretend it never happened.
But this is not like a simple fight with a friend,
Or a bad relationship,
This can not be erased.
Death is not that simple.
A bright light comes from above,
A sudden rush of relaxation shoots through her,
Calmness surrounds her.
And then she lets go.
Her soul floats away into the night sky,
And it’s over now.
By Sierra Cowan
Written the Summer of 2009
Should Be Done
If you want to have much fun
Here is what should be done
If you data used is empirical
Write some sounding satirical.
So much for my rhyming. Now
for my formidable blank verse
format.
What should Democratic party do.
They should start having a daily
presentation of negative Trump
ads every day of his existence
while he is in the White House.
Show the Gold Star Family,
handicapped person made fun of
and women grabbed by crotch
as examples of what I mean.
Trump doesn't mind tweeting
out negative comments about
anyone else. He needs to start
receiving some of his own medicine.
What you give out is what you
are supposed to receive back.
If you criticize, condemn and
complain, you should receive
the very same thing in return.
His favorability rating for being
President is at an all time low.
He deserves it and has done
exactly everything to earn it.
As usual, America will have to
suffer from all of his stupidity.
He thinks that all he has to do
is waving his magic wand and
every thing will fit in place in
his staff and support system.
Was it Martin Luther King who
said only fools dream on not
taking any action. Trump is
truly a man of action riling
up everyone.
God is supposed to be saving
the Queen and our new President.
Sure hope we can trust Him to save
the rest of America as well. Some
may be saving for a rainy day but
what about the good ones we all
prefer to have? They may have
disappeared with Trump and are
beyond all recognition. We sure
do hope not How about you?
Can you no longer find any of
them either. Search to your
heart's content> You have
Trump supporters to thank for
putting him to office. Don't
blame me for the pit we are
about to fall into. I would
not have hired a medic to
do my open heart surgery.
That is what you did when
you elected Trump. In America,
we have the freedom to express
our own opinions regardless of
what criticism we may receive.
As far as I am concerned, the
same thing also applies to
Poetry Soup. We have a lot
of great poets who currently
exist within Poetry Soup. My
last thing I have to say and
write is, "God Bless You'll."
Sorry my Southern accent
got in the way.
James Serious Mysterious and
also Thesarious Hilarious Horn
as applicable depending on the
occasion I am writing poem about.