Long Insignia Poems
Long Insignia Poems. Below are the most popular long Insignia by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Insignia poems by poem length and keyword.
Written: April 24, 2024
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Tread of life
a strand of hair
disassociation
desolation devastation
floribunda flapdoodle
constantly hearing
Voices...
whispering
screaming,
spread their
ivory wings,
fly
in velveteen
sky
Constantly...
berating,
damaging
disparaging
mentally...
unseen torment
pretending
drowning in
unfillable chasm
Trauma...
suppressing
swallowing
existence
dripping with shadows...
When casting spells
seeking peace
amid war
turn off TVs
keep radios hushed
lure of
loathy
illusion
draped in earthy
petrichor shade
splendidly
sculpted from
stardust
bereft of insignia or emblem...
Opus headline
in magnetic bowl
shredded
with a spark
burned in full
anoint ash
on forehead
As Peace Symbol
Then
with a broken gun
on windowsill
east-facing muzzle
align seven shots
heart-shaped trigger guard
shadows shouldn't touch
Then
stir three dove wings
into hot milk
must be flawless
add three plastic
army men
whirlwind
madness
let it cool down &
stir with
olive branch
Dump sharp knife out
sun-facing blade
back spell your name
five times
then step inside &
close the door
etched in
immortal art
of humanity.
Legend Of The Black Dove
(Part 4) "The Imposter"
When the dust had settled in the pit, there was a movement
As the Black Dove had fortunately fallen between the pinnacles.
However, Jack Wild was not so lucky as he impaled himself upon
One of these obelisks. The Dove took a running jump and found
Himself atop of the pit, he ran over to rescue the other
Trapped men. Fate had been kind to his friend Rex Murphy,
While the other three men were hurt and needed medical attention.
The Dove and Murphy carry out the men to the Golden Coach,
Which took them back to Southerly. The local doctor managed to
Patch them up enough to be taken back to the local jail in Dover.
It was time to return the coach, so Rex Murphy and the
Black dove started back for Dover. By that time the Black Dove was
Satisfied that he had finally tracked down the men who had
Murdered his friends. He lay down (leant against the seat-back)
In the coach for a rest. The coach was approaching Dover when
Murphy notices a group of Men by the road. He stopped to investigate.
As it turned out they Had been robbed by a masked man wearing a
purple waistcoat with a Black Dove insignia on it. He had shot and
killed two people before stealing their horses. Three passengers climb
aboard the coach. As they continue their journey to Dover. The imposter
and his five Assailants, who had been lying in wait, emerged from behind
the rocks. They where heavily armed and the leader disguised as
the Black Dove Bade Murphy and his passengers to step out of the coach.
In the Meantime the real Black Dove who was inside the coach, climbed
Out of the window, sneaked around the coach and leaped to the
Top of the rock. He picked out the Leader, then jumped off the rock
Onto the horse grabbing the imposter and sending the horse into panic.
The horse gallops off with the two men wrestling with each other.
The horse raced around the place near the swamp were the horse
Sinks into quicksand. The two Doves were also trapped in the fast
Sinking quicksand as they continue to struggle, Both finally sinking
Out of sight......
Is this the end of the Black Dove and his imposter ?
Will any one succeed in rescuing them in time ?
Find out in the next exciting part...."Adventures On The High Seas"
Posted 1st of each month.
Written: 1st April 2013
Dedicated to the Officers and crew of
USS Columbia (SSN 771)
Goodbye Sun
We are welcomed by men in
immaculate whites
Through a hatch
we descend a steep ladder
into "The Last Slider"
From a narrow corridor we enter
into the brain and nerves
of this vessel-
To my untrained eye the confusion
of cables overhead is bewildering
This black ship of stealth
tracks the world outside,
silently invisible itself
Rows of monitors, sonar devices
high powered periscopes
all with a myriad of buttons to push-
A marvel of technology -
yet men are the heart and soul
of this great ship
They are Submariners
They say goodbye to the sun
for months on end
Week after harrowing week they spend
day after day on grinding drills
where the only thrill is their daily meals
Systematic, methodical
They are human- in a ship of war
but a ship that exists for freedom
The Officers guide us through each section
The ship at rest has released them
from an endless commitment but
with a practiced eye
they are still attuned to every detail
Commanders almost prescient
so in step with every procedure
they can sense malfunction in their sleep
I notice the commitment to excellence
I note the pride behind the
preparations for our inspection
Blue curtains with the ships insignia
are drawn on bunk beds
Shiny copper engine parts, clean bright paint
reflects the values of those who
keep their vessel, ship-shape
Now I stand in the nose where the
weapons rest
The metal tubes look benign
for all the power they contain
Ironically in rows, directly above,
the crew's bunks are located-
in tiers of three -even sleep
is regimented
Photos of family are the only
human touch in
this dark, black, whale
of a vessel
The sense of duty for each individual
seems overwhelming
There is a spirit of complete trust
between them
This is a world for honorable men
"Victory is Silence"
I try to imagine daily living
the self-containment
the steely discipline
the choosing to go forward in the face of
uncertainty
Precision and man - morphing
The pact between Submariners is
absolute.
They move as one.
BRIAN'S CHOICE K,any form,any theme
Contest Judged: 5/19/2020 12:08:00 AM
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
3rd Place
Coming of the Magi
Matthew 2.1-12
Verse 1: “After Jesus was born in Bethlehem...Judea,
During the reign of King Herod, magi came [Yeshua],
From the east to Jerusalem. 2 They asked: [aroma],
‘Where is the newborn king of the Jews? [paranoia].
We’ve seen his star in the east, and we’ve [hernia],
Come to honor him.’ 3 When King Herod [gonna],
Heard this, he was troubled, and everyone [won’t ya],
In Jerusalem was troubled with him [trauma (Athena)].
4 He gathered all the chief priests and the legal [torah],
Experts and asked them where the Christ was [Amonia],
To be born [stroma]. 5 They said ‘In Bethlehem [krona],
Of Judea, for this is what the prophet wrote, [Adonia]:
6 “You, Bethlehem, land of Judah, by no means, [aqua],
Are you the least among the rulers of Judah [enterica],
Because from you will come one who governs [insignia],
Who will shepherd my people Israel [loud n’ proud aura]”.
7 Then Herod secretly called for the magi and [drama],
Found out from them the time when the star [corona],
Had first appeared [prima]. 8 He sent them [begonia],
To Bethlehem, saying, “Go [n’] search carefully [beg ya]:
For the child. When you’ve found him, report [nihil mora],
To me so that I too may go and honor him.” Paronama].
9 When they heard the king, they went; and, [proxima],
Look, the star they had seen in the east went [comptonia] -
Ahead of them until it stood over the place [concordia],
Where the child was. 10 When they saw the star [folia],
They were filled with joy. 11 They entered the house [coxa],
And saw the child with Mary his mother [Collutorium gutta].
Falling to their knees, they honored him [phenomena].
Then they opened their treasure chests and [poma],
Presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense [aroma],
And myrr. Because they were warned in a dream, [gala] -
Not to return to Herod [inca], they went back to [ok plasma],
Their own country by another route [elegantia (got ya!}].
I believe this is Matt 2.1-12, and know that you will lambda,
Because this trauma dealt with by the magi, was brahma.
Common English Bible used.
the field is given a name
battles are about where they disappear
the ones that walk away
don't know where the hell they are
after the mayhem
peace continues destroying barns
birds peck at exploded eye sockets
take what they see to feather nests in hollow trees
insignia and belt buckles
are hunted to extinction
sold into usury
mists shuffle a daze of time
the rattling roll calls of magpies and jackdaws
echo the click-clacking of jawbones
executing orders and counter orders
the officers that stumbled forward or away
go quietly mad or marry well
later
shell stumped foot foragers tell their slogging tales
then find newly cracked rockers
to slip away on
between the hour before dawn and midday
the violence died away in smoke
muddle and disorder
no land was lost or won nothing ended or begun
only this smoldering
cannon blasted field surrendering its nowhere acres
eventually milk cows and goats are purchased
to he hell into butter
dead horses are brought back
as glue and sacks of fertilizer
the stubborn ghosts of mules bray
on the night before remembrance day
thus now in the kilter and unwinding of years
the unnamed are plowed in or out
framed in visitor centers
the long hauled about laid to primal grist
the fallen slain recalled again
to quicken vintage tractors
the bearded and beardless site-marked and told
by the grave tongued rangers
who speak for the listening gone
and the whole much pounded shebang
grid referenced
as the muzzled earth still heaves up
its lead riddled bones
service roads are built over tufts of d-n-a
spent shells and frayed lapels catalogued
filed away
then the blue and grey left to fight
their own way home
while another day breaks its promise
A rhetorical question finds me asking
(to no one in particular) why I recall
the names of grade school teachers
approximately fifty years ago (whose
names listed below), when the need
to retrieve necessary information due
ring examinations (less time ago)
often found me seized with sudden
inability to remember any vital ants
sirs (even including my name), thus
grudgingly handing over blank test paper
analogously surrendering a vital
document gracing terms of defeat
into the scaly claws (zen nay), sans
first to sixth grade Precambrian relic
(Missus Batson, Missus Rittenhouse,
Missus Wells, Mister Stout,
Missus Shaner, or Miss Rinderle).
Invariably majority of first thru
sixth grade accorded accredited
ancient authenticated creatures.
They freely exercised diabolical
churlish beastial animalistic zeal
us yakking, wickedly unprintable
upon (unprincipled urchin) at
receiving end of fiendishly grue
some hellish instructions. Assign
ments buttressed with ultimatums
harkening back to Jurassic period
earlier in dawning primate con
sciousness. Lesson material kindled
with justifiable license in league
with garnered insignia. Heft
to bring pupils to heal predicated
via warp and weft woven wonder
fully. Wrought writs welcomed
whips with warranty whenever
recalcitrant ruffian refused
respecting reptilian rubric repre
sentative rattling (The Idler Wheel
Is Wiser Than the Driver of
the Screw and Whipping Cords
Will Serve You More Than Ropes
Will Ever Do), which loosely
rendered regularly warbled
wishy washy verse curmudgeons
freedom granted to interpret
as one decrepit, hawkish insignia
certified one beaming Eve and/
or stud deed brute soffit. Education
often relied on the weekly reader,
and letters to and/or from Aunt
Emma. Nefarious mean linkedin
kickstarter jawboning torturous
treatment tolerated, asper imps
of the pervert, mutant Ninja
Turtles duty bound antsy
youthful yokel yodelers
weathering ululating sing-song
and quintessential precepts.
when into scaly claws, sans first
to sixth grade Precambrian relic
(Missus Batson, Missus Rittenhouse,
Missus Wells, Mister Stout, Missus Shaner,
or Miss Rinderle).
Invariably the majority
of elementary grades didst accord
accredited ancient authenticated creatures bored
(with exception of sixth)
freely exercised diabolical chord
churlish beastial animalistic
zealous yakking, wickedly,
aye (a basket case) deplored
unprintable (epithets) this then
(unprincipled urchin) puny pupil felt lord
did over whacked, sans receiving end,
viz fiendishly gruesome
hellish instructions mean teacher scored.
Assignments buttressed with ultimatums
harkening back to Jurassic period earlier
in the dawning primate consciousness.
Lesson material kindled justifiable license
in league garnered insignia heft brought pupils
to heal predicated, via warpped weft woven
wonderfully wrought writs welcomed whips
with warranty whenever recalcitrant ruffian
refused respecting reptilian rubric representative
saber rattling, where...
(The Idler Wheel Is Wiser Than the Driver
of the Screw and Whipping Cords Will
Serve You More Than Ropes Will Ever Do),
which loosely rendered regularly warbled
wishy washy verse curmudgeons freedom
granted to interpret as one decrepit, hawkish
insignia certified one beaming Eve and/or
stud deed brute soffit.
Education often relied on the weekly reader,
and letters to or from Aunt Emma to this Jack,
oh napeswho never wrote back
sheesh, alas and alack.
Nefarious mean linkedin kickstarter jawboning
torturous treatment tolerated, asper imps
of pervert, mutant Ninja Turtles duty bound
antsy youthful yokel yodelers weathering ululating
sing-song quintessential precepts.
adieu:
math a hew
scott harris a gentile Jew
all ways felt like new
kid on the block isolated
in his hermetically sealed queue
pay perm ash shay watched per view
whew
at last in conk clew shun to you
from one primate within the human zoo.
Unrelenting blitzkrieg deadly
assault upon psyche
pounded defenseless
vulnerable mindscape accustomed
to shelter within aproned crease
mama proffered manna, especially
when untethered meek docile lad
subjected to blistering hellfire
infamous hoodlums wantonly unleashed
verbal bombardments lobbing poison
spear tipped invisible blackened barbs
manifold times more agonizing
piercing, targeting, xraying...
guaranteed fatal skull and crossbones
unseen insignia wrought utmost damage
one hundred percent accuracy
ferociously besieging, jackknifing, pummeling...
successfully character assassinating,
a diminutive boy cursed with ideal traits
strongly tempted, delectably savored,
violently bullied (short of physical
stature violated, though seditious)
emotional violation wrought lifelong
oppressive worthlessness complimented
amply by absolute zero self confidence
distilled thru conception in utero
until parturition on a bitterly cold
January thirteenth (apparently small,
medium forces at large, sans right
buffalo wing conspiracy) instigating
ear splitting wailing testing threshold
of tolerance, no crying game, but
palpable anatomical and physiological
dislocations afflicting yours truly
with breathing difficulty courtesy
submucous cleft palate pronouncing
strong nasality, when acquiring speaking
ability more cause to ridicule upon
commencing attendance within Lower
Providence School District, where kids
said nastiest, meanest, foulest, cruelest...
unsolicited comments pointedly jabbing air
mocking severe twang plus pigeon toed gait
the latter rectified with custom made
contrivance crafted by papa that forced
little feet turned outward during sleep,
which less significant aberration became
corrected as I got older, but self shaming
and blaming assimilated thru incessant
intimidation, inundation, invitation...
passive personality tacitly allowed,
provided, and enabled entire classroom
to assail helpless looking human creature
'pon entering home burst into tears!
Dedicated to: (Maestro Marinero) Antonio B. Dublado
I could've been on the stage applauded by spectators old and young
A vibrant lad and appealing, so well I could sing and dance.
But when I saw a moving vessel in a horizon not so far
I could see myself a sailor than a renowned performing star.
I saw where the future leads me like the gleaming light on shore
With the throng of white go marching with the drums and bugle corp.
The anchor and the propeller are the insignia that I wore
A Maestro Marinero will one day knock at your door
On the ship that I and my ambitions will surely never ever stop
Though tears are falling; skin is soring or enjoying shorter naps.
When I, like a fool, could laugh remembering funny anecdotes
Perhaps it is a joke enough when laughing alone get caught.
So each day in my quarter with my tailored uniform
I can see the pride within me of such duty I perform
Dreams should not be clouded by dirty oils or the fumes
Not even by sea-sickness or by a strong wind or a storm
As I follow the plotted course in this voyage so-called life
Tempest may come so sudden; it could be perilous or slight
Shipwreck is so ghastly for any sailorman to think
To run aground is costly but it's far better than to sink
I equip myself with preparedness as we head to another shore
So wide-awake though deafened by the engine's endless roar
Let me sing my song to the ocean; to the surfs in a nearby shoal.
Soon another beauty I'll be seeing in another port of call
When it's time for me to disembark and set foot on the dry land
I'll be staying at the shore line to pay tribute to the ocean.
A mariner in the harbor where a lighthouse standing still
See fulfillment at his old age, Oh Lord! Let it be thy will.
Date & Time of Writing:
November 15, 2011
4:01pm – 4:47pm
Just another ordinary day. At about 3:00 pm, excursionists comprising of Marine Engineering students came into my shop to buy bottled water. Then I remember a cousin who devoted his life at sea.
HARLEY DAVIDSON
The roar of the victorious twins that spark,
Enigma of the spotless glint in the dark,
The riders, symbolic of rare brood,
Tattooed with insignia and bandana as hood.
Third year of the twentieth century, there starts a stride,
Relentlessly over a century, stands stout in pride,
The post First War years, gave birth to the twins,
Sidecars mated, to the 18 horses’ wings.
“Milwaukee” heaven, created the stars,
In a big bang scatter, they traversed the universe,
The years of the big wars, saw seventeen-inch twins,
Immaculate with epaulettes and battle olive greens.
At the end of the war, God lent a hand,
To evolve a shiny steel armour for the generation, next clan,
The Knuckleheads, the Glides set the road on fire,
Protectors of human dignity, induce fear on felons’ desire,
The low riders of the seventies, launched with a zing,
The world of its class termed it “A mean machine”,
The XL’s the K’s, roll out with a whack,
Its looks and tyres, burnt all tracks.
Then there were the softails, those flew like a dove,
Elevated the pillion rider, for the embrace of Love,
The zing of the V2 and the double chrome exhausts,
Reflects the personality of a star, that rocks.
Out arrived the fat boy who could cruise an endless mile,
Traverse across the continent in elegant style,
The Dyna and the Low Riders with their fiery spokes,
Came in with accessories that included tattooed blokes.
The King of the road with flashers and sirens run,
Vigilant officer in uniform with a holstered gun,
The Buells, The Cyclones, The Lightning and Thunderbolts
Menacing street fighters, up on the roll.
Exotic long forked choppers, on a smooth ply,
The rattle sound merges, with a helicopter in the sky,
It is the character, that reflects, the heart alone,
The charisma, of falling in love with, ‘Harley Davidson’.
By Pradipta Roy Choudhury
From The Transient Soliloquy
published by Notionpress
https://notionpress.com/read/the-transient-soliloquy