Long Poem Topics

Check out these short poem topics. Find short poems by topic or form.

abortion absence
abuse addiction
adventure africa
age allah
allegory allusion
america analogy
angel anger
angst animal
anniversary anti bullying
anxiety appreciation
april arabic
art assonance
aubade august
autumn baby
bangla baptism
baseball basketball
beach beautiful
beauty bereavement
best friend betrayal
bible bio
bird birth
birthday black african american
blessing blue
boat body
books boxing day
boy boyfriend
break up bridal shower
brother bullying
business butterfly
cancer candy
car care
career caregiving
cat celebration
celebrity change
chanukah character
cheer up chicago
child child abuse
childhood children
chocolate christian
christmas cinco de mayo
cinderella city
class clothes
color columbus day
community computer
confidence conflict
confusion cool
corruption courage
cousin cowboy
crazy creation
crush cry
culture cute love
dad daffodils
dance dark
daughter day
death death of a friend
december dedication
deep depression
desire destiny
devotion discrimination
divorce dog
dream drink
drug earth
earth day easter
education emo
emotions encouraging
endurance engagement
england environment
epic eulogy
eve evil
fairy faith
family fantasy
farewell farm
fashion fate
father father daughter
father son fathers day
fear february
feelings film
fire firework
first love fish
fishing flower
flying food
football for children
for her for him
for kids forgiveness
freedom french
friend friendship
fruit fun
funeral funny
funny love future
games garden
gender giggle
girl girlfriend
giving god
golf good friday
good morning good night
goodbye gospel
gothic graduate
graduation grandchild
granddaughter grandfather
grandmother grandparents
grandson grave
green grief
growing up growth
guitar hair
halloween happiness
happy happy birthday
hate health
heart heartbreak
heartbroken heaven
hello hero
high school hilarious
hindi hip hop
history hockey
holiday holocaust
home homework
hope horror
horse house
how i feel howl
humanity humor
humorous hurt
husband hyperbole
i am i love you
i miss you identity
image imagery
imagination immigration
independence day innocence
insect inspiration
inspirational integrity
international internet
introspection ireland
irony islamic
january jealousy
jesus jewish
jobs journey
joy judgement
july june
kid kindergarten
kiss language
leadership leaving
life light
little sister london
loneliness lonely
longing loss
lost lost love
love love hurts
lust lyric
magic malayalam
marathi march
marriage math
may me
meaningful memorial day
memory men
mental illness mentor
metaphor metrical tale
middle school military
miracle mirror
miss you missing
missing you mom
money moon
morning mother
mother daughter mother son
mothers day motivation
mountains moving on
mum murder
muse music
my child my children
mystery myth
mythology name
native american natural disasters
nature new year
new years day new york
nice niece
night nonsense
nostalgia november
nursery rhyme obituary
ocean october
old onomatopoeia
pain paradise
parents paris
parody pashto
passion patriotic
peace people
perspective pets
philosophy places
planet poems
poetess poetry
poets political
pollution poverty
power prayer
prejudice preschool
presidents day pride
princess prison
proposal psychological
purple quinceanera
race racism
rain rainbow
rainforest rap
raven recovery from
red relationship
religion religious
remember remembrance day
repetition retirement
riddle rights
river romance
romantic rose
roses are red rude
sad sad love
satire scary
school science
science fiction sea
seasons self
senses sensual
september sexy
sick silence
silly silver
simile simple
sin sister
sky slam
slavery sleep
smart smile
snow soccer
social society
softball soldier
solitude sometimes
son song
sorrow sorry
soulmate sound
space spanish
spiritual spoken word
sports spring
star stars
storm strength
stress student
success suicide
summer sun
sunset sunshine
surreal sweet
symbolism sympathy
tamil teacher
teachers day technology
teen teenage
thank you thanks
thanksgiving thanksgiving day
tiger time
today together
travel tree
tribute true love
trust truth
universe uplifting
urban urdu
usa vacation
valentines day vanity
veterans day violence
visionary vogon
voice volleyball
voyage war
water weather
wedding wife
wind wine
winter wisdom
woman women
word play words
work world
world war i world war ii
write writing
yellow youth

Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.

You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Also, did you know you can become a PoetrySoup Lifetime Premium Member and block ads forever...while getting many more great features. Take a look! Thank you!

Long International Poems

Long International Poems. Below are the most popular long International by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long International poems by poem length and keyword.

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Gary Bateman | Details

What Kind of People Are We

What Kind of People Are We

In a Shakespearean sense of tragedy and doubt the well-used
“To Be or Not To Be” from Hamlet is not the question I shall
discuss in this narrative. Rather, I shall consider a few things
concerning the current Middle Eastern and European migrant
situation that has riveted the attention of the countries in those
regions as well as the rest of the world. And it’s my opportunity
to reflect on some of the things that have occurred (and are still
occurring right now), that I find quite troubling and morally 
offensive to me as concerned person and citizen.

As a writer and poet, and as a moral human being, I can say
that I was truly shocked at the sight of an innocent, young Syrian 
refugee boy named “Aylan Kurdi,” who had drowned and was lying 
face down on a Turkish beach near a resort with his head turned
slightly on its right side, as the ebb and flow of the salted waves
pushed and pulled on his little body. A real tragedy for sure that
might have been prevented, if humane, responsible, and responsive
migrant immigration policies had been in place so his father
would not have been compelled to put his wife and both of his 
sons—who all drowned together—on that fateful boat at the very
mercy of ruthless and evil human traffic smugglers.

The horrendous scenes played over and over on the 24-hour news 
cycle of the migrants and their innocent children from Syria, Iraq, 
Turkey, Afghanistan, and other countries being treated like cattle
(or even less than cattle), and indiscriminately pushed around and
tear-gassed by unfriendly and unwelcoming jack-booted Hungarian 
Rendorség (Police) were certainly most shocking and disgustingly 
revulsive by both their malicious tenor and insidious intent. The
actions also of some right-wing Hungarian demonstrators hurling
loud and abusive comments at the refugees was also quite tragic
and disturbing. I found the actions of the Hungarian Police under
the direction of Prime Minister Viktor Orban to be similarly
reminiscent of the actions of Hitler’s Gestapo and Sturmabteilung
or the SA Troops after 1933 in Nazi Germany. Shame on them!
Shame on them! This is the same old tired bigotry and stupidity
on display today.

Despite these despicable actions of the Hungarian Police and many 
of Mr. Orban’s governmental officials, a number of Hungarian
citizens still showed their kindness and humanity in helping the
migrants at various junctures on the autobahn as they trekked
toward the Austrian border in route ultimately to Germany. This
caught my obvious attention as well.

For me, the “so-what?” here turns ultimately upon the following
philosophical and human question: “What Kind of People Are We?”
The migrant problem as we know is largely the result of the massive
displacement of people that has occurred (and is still occurring) in
in the war-torn countries in the Middle East and in certain areas of
Southeast Asia. This tragedy is one of many of our world’s current
and future 21st-century challenges. How each of us as “concerned 
citizens,” in consonance with the policies and actions of the various
governments in the countries we each live under, will certainly
play a role in reflecting in the end the kind of people we really are. 

For me, the nationalistic actions of the right-wing parties and
extremists, in many countries (including the United States) and 
particularly now in Europe, provide no real solution at all, and 
become a convenient excuse for many people to forsake their
conscience and basic humanity—and to stick their heads in the 
sand like a bunch of frightful ostriches lost in the reveries of
their hate and prejudice, and disgraceful cowardice! There can
be no apology and justification for this ever! This type of
behavior is a deep-seated cancer ever-lurking in the genes of 
our human society and in mankind’s soul—awaiting its chance
to metastasize and reek its horrible destruction upon its victims.  

The point I’m driving at is this: The current responsible actions
of a number of world leaders, to particularly highlight those of
the European Union, appear to be taking several of the right steps 
in helping these refugee migrants and their families undergoing
this terrible strife forced upon them by the tyranny of war and the
resultant poverty and dislocation. Being stupid, hateful, and clearly
prejudiced as some people and certain governmental leaders are in
our global community today is not the answer and it never will be!

To people who really do care about this ongoing migrant tragedy,
it’s time to rally and act in support of local, regional, and worldwide
efforts to help these migrant people and their families so afflicted
by poverty, disease, war, injury, death, and territorial displacement. 

For me, I desire to make my voice heard loud and clear as a writer,
poet, and concerned world citizen on this matter and in my own
most humble way. Keep in mind that many of us are descendants
of families who at one time or another were migrants from other
countries escaping the whip and lash of cruel dictators and their
terrible regimes masquerading as legitimate governments of the

In my estimation, the kind of people we should be or aspire to be
are those who relish the winds of freedom, the certainty of justice,
the spirit of friendship, the values of fairness and fair play, the
magnificence of humanity, the desire for cultural diversity and
inclusion, and the love of our fellow man under the very eyes
of God Himself. 

What kind of people are we? With this, I rest my case. 

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
September 11, 2015 (Narrative)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Chris Peers | Details

Shattered dreams

Men with guns come from a poor mothers womb,
playing happily in their yards and getting a diluted education,
with vague aspirations and yet to be tarnished by the world,
learning to kill on an X-Box and mesmerized by scenes on television.

With disingenuous rhetoric that assuages voters fears,
leaders of men are borne out of society's frustration,
fulfilling the naive electorate of their desire to be governed,
carrying on with heedless lives and a strange P.O.T.U.S infatuation.

Innocence becomes tainted and men become radicalized,
killers running down streets and in lands unheard of,
propagandized by political media and religious authority,
killing men, women and children, they know nothing of universal love.

Men put on costumes and kill people of a different color,
just following orders and fighting for freedom and democracy,
bombs in the desert, people blown apart at a million dollars a head,
soldiers on the ground appeasing military/industrial bureaucracy.

Xenophobia and racism have a public voice and a flag,
democracy and freedom, buzzwords of selfish and ignorant patriots,
Christians preach love on Sunday and glorify death on Monday,
peaceful demonstrations on the streets turn into deathly riots.  

The people police themselves and have become willing citizens of self induced manipulation,
a kind of mass Stockholm Syndrome for the patriotic citizens of so called free countries,
defending their leaders selfish decisions while wanting a share of the spoils of war,
the founding fathers must be turning in their graves as selfish greed has withered a once great nation.

Self absorbed suits on the hill determining lives and futures,
safe in their ivory towers and positions of imagined power,
put these policy makers on the front line and watch them cower,
and those cowards in uniform who murder and slaughter from behind computers.

Faceless men in the shadows orchestrate their agenda thru their chosen leader,
puppet masters and policy makers free from liability and accountability,
narcissists and psychotics echoing a voice of the non-elected and unseen,
the hoi polloi are regarded as expendable and a financial liability.

For every new leader a boogeyman comes out to scare,
leaders of the governed make promises to keep them safe,
slowly eroding rights and tightening up national borders,
spending trillions on warfare and hardly a dime on welfare.

Covetous leaders look to expand their temporary empires of artificial riches,
armed to the teeth military murder unarmed innocents abroad,
destroying histories and cultures and centuries old ways of life,
as favored cartels move in, with emphasis on profit, using slave bitches.

Children made orphans and wives made widows by far off decisions,
the enlightened ones break it down as people killing people,
a general or a warlord has got to be a king of his small patch of grass,
while the apathetic watch the carnage safely in front of their televisions.

Political and religious words echo in the minds of the patriotic and faithful,
empty promises made with a smile that satiate and calm the masses,
the wise and the skeptical see thru disingenuous rhetoric with clarity,
watching them on soap boxes and pulpits, they should be shameful.

We now live in a society that openly assails the critical and free minded intellectual,
people hiding behind their comforting lies and crying like a baby over inconvenient truths,
political correctness and the nanny state providing a tit to suckle, 
millennials despise being labeled or judged and to be recognized as asexual.

The world is divided by nefarious political parties promoting freedom and choice,
setting up media outlets to emphasize their disapproval of the opposing parties stance,
while behind closed doors of power and influence, prostituted bedfellows fuck the world,
slowly suffocating the rights of the people who still believe they are truly free and have a voice.

True terror is understanding what this world is all about,
blissful eyes will only see the beauty of this world,
while grieving eyes see the ugliness that is within,
all around the world people are screaming for a way out.

Copyright © Chris Peers | Year Posted 2017

Long poem by evrod samuel | Details

The City And The State Of Play Today


No one worries about morals today 
They follow the rules they create
So to them all is ok
Those on the outside looking in 
Are the only ones feeling queasy 
As avarice and selfishness triumphs
So easily 

Good corporate citizens they claim to be
Industry awards abound on their walls
As thank you tokens from themselves
Yet society harbours a lot of ill-will
As it feels the often brute force of 
The raid
And destroy mentality
Of people only wishing to make money 
Any which way 
While Using up all of society’s communal resources

Sharks abound
The waters are forever bloody as they 
Know no fraternity and would gladly 
Cannibalize anyone with no influence 
The ability to upend competitors
A cherished characteristic 
In a bullish machismo drenched environment 

Bullet proof psyches
Absorb and repel any pangs
About unfairness
Blocking any regulatory or chattering classes’
Attempt at nirvana and equality 
They employ better paid lobbyist 
So always have the upper hand 
In influencing policy 

The gravitational attraction of money 
Towards another even bigger pot of money 
Numbs any cautionary instinct
That would take a long term view 
The thrill of instant riches
Overpowers common sense 
And even decency 
Fat cats they all wish to be 

The slickness of glossy tongued lobbyist
Who spin wrongs till they become rights
Embolden oestrogen low males with no inbuilt brakes
To take risks that eventually cost them disgrace 
They are champions of graft not of society 

Loopholes in legislation
That were built in by too friendly politicians 
Coupled with ambiguous suits and claims
Cause far reaching hardship when the good old days are long gone 
The villains only muster some phantom national pride
 When begging for a lighter sentence 
Some are forgiven
Others fatally wounded by an unforgiving public

Lots of money can be made both legally and illegally
As one racket is closed another materialises instantly
The conveyor belt of dishonesty
Overwhelms bureaucracy 
Who is not David to the goliath that is money

The ethos is wealth
The acquisition and the maintaining of gains
Not often acquired through hard work
There is no limit of acceptable financial comfort
For the millionaire always wants to be a billionaire
And the mega rich super rich

Money must always be hidden from the taxman
Shareholders want tax free dividends
Investors want tax breaks for buying with other people’s money 
Infrastructure and new runways must be built 
But not from the pocket of those who wish it 

With their hands outstretched
And always wanting more and more
From a government too eager to please 
We have a tax system geared to the advantage of party donors
And non-domiciled moguls and tycoons
Who know no philanthropy unless it is tax efficient 

Disadvantaging society by  
Never paying their fair and moral share 
The largess they reap so selfishly
They wish not to share 
Wages are low
Taxes are nil
Only the investor wins as we pay his bills

Fast paced expansionist dogma
Is preached within city limits
Only the highest paid
The biggest company
The greatest profits
Are allowed 
They are held up as ideals that all who
Wish to succeed must follow
Gunslingers they all appear to be
Rushing in to capitalize on the wanton success of their peers
The cloud of misery left behind 
Is never seen for the look forward 
Never backward 
Hindsight is never welcomed in this parasitic environment 

The political will to weed out these reckless demons
Is lukewarm at best 
The revolving door of government creating opportunities
For industry and industry gratefully accepting politicians post government 
Ensures that self-interest is king 

An economy built on flawed assumptions of wealth creation
Is one that must forever be in hyper-drive
Creating ever expanding demand and supply 
That is as real as a thief’s conscience 
When taking the rings off a dead persons fingers 

Money must always be made for 
There is no alternative 
Wealth is good
Poverty to them is laziness

The city is not the heart and soul
Of the nation
It is but one player in a system skewed in its favour
We all must share in the wealth of this country
To ensure its longevity  

Copyright © evrod samuel | Year Posted 2013

Long poem by T Wignesan | Details

Unquotable quotes: The How of Democratic Kill - IXL Part Two

Unquotable quotes: The How of Democratic Kill - IXL, Part Two
No, tell me not my vote now does not count
         (Shakespearean Sonnet)

No, tell me not my vote now does not count
For with my vote you do what pleases you most
You stoke the breath of dragons in Levant
And melt the caps of ice encased in frost

Tell me not my vote will make enemies flee
And set right wrongs long festering in hearts
My vote's my word you take and hold un-free
In Senate and House with bickering darts

You cursed and you conned your rival's public
You lorded your worth with your campaign wrath
Who would've wondered who I'd have to pick
And make me rue my days gone behemoth

Ask not for my voice to be raised in hope
Lest you lay at my feet world in syncope 

The difference between a Democratic State and a Dictatorship is that there is - in the ultimate analysis - NONE! when it comes to dealing with its/their so-called "opponents" whom they consider persona non grata within or beyond the State (likewise between States), with the difference that Democrats - through long experience as colonisers of "barbaric" heathen peoples - have acquired the art of best concealing their means: toolkits and tried and tested highly refined sophisticated methods of persecution. Dictators, on the other hand, don't much care what the world thinks of them which simplifies things for them.

Within the Dictatorship, the family and favourites assume and share power to the exclusion of even the army or the political party which may have at some pivotal stage permitted the rise of the dictator and have "legitimised" his sway over the masses by abandoning the electoral processes and by dismantling the bi-cameral institutions in order to make room for direct rule by decree.   

In the democratic state, the leaders like to be seen to be courting the people with populist chants during election campaigns which somehow have the habit of turning into hollow promises during the period they stay in office, as if to say, "If only the mandate had been for life!"

Under a dictatorship, the leaders subject the people to the constant fear of being held in a perennial court where the dictator displays the art of taking the law into his own hands, whereas in the democratic state leaders succeed in subverting the due process of law whenever it serves their interests.  

By  contrast, in a Democratic State, even if all the semblance for the proper working of the rule of law appear to be in place, real power would seem to reside in monolithic political party heads, trade union leaders, industrial magnates, conglomerate bank CEOs, media over-lords, the secret service, the police and in some cases the very judicial apparatus and the chiefs of armed forces and veterans of resistance movements and other pressure groups, lobbies and their likes, but the truth is certain ethnic and/or religious entities and the free-masons share the power to influence and shape the future of communities and townships not only within but also over the borders of nation states. 

Now the real or imagined persona non grata in a democratic environment is made out to be an "anti-democratic" individual (when in actual fact the free-masonic and religio-ethnic groups brand the unwanted un-submissive individual as a bigoted racist or anti-semite). Democrats are only as racist as their morals are free. 

If you watch carefully how politics evolve(s) mostly on the world stage, the driving motivating force is racial or religious in origin, no matter how much or how fervently politicians and religious leaders talk of love of unity and peace in the name of humanity at large. At an insignificant level, some like the free-masons may give the impression of wanting to transcend racial, religious, sexual or ideological divides, but this even in countries  with five major "obediences" reeks of hypocrisy.

Just as there are dictatorships and democratic states, there are "demi-dictatorships" all over the colonised world striving hard to imitate their mentors.
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2016

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2016

Long poem by Gary Bateman | Details

Heinrich Heine Revisited

I can clearly sense your utter despair of Der Matratzengruft*
As you valiantly carried on your poetic works to the very end.
This did not change your literary accomplishments well-known,
And your courage through the misery and morphine* is undeniable.

Your lyrical poetry speaks volumes among all of German literature,
And it was most marvelously set to music by the likes of Schumann,
Schubert, Silcher, Mendelssohn, Brahms, and Strauss—to name a few. 
Their melodic tones as applied to your verses then, now live on forever!

Your role in and principal contributions to Romanticism fall in line
With the highest quality of your poetic language and its intention.
Your role in battling early nineteenth-century censorship in Prussia set 
You out front of many of your contemporaries who resisted much less.

It’s so tragic Herr Heine that your literary resistance so prominent in
Challenging Prussian censorship would make you ever so more noted,
And besmirched as the Nazis in 1933 burned your books and those of
Other German scholars as a reflection of their insane and twisted beliefs!

It’s with great irony indeed that the banning and burning of your works by 
The Nazis was parodied further by them as they ignobly quoted and used
Your famous line from “Almansor,”* when you likened that “where books 
Are burned, in the end people will be burned too.” We know what they did!

And so, with both honor and sadness I do understand the very cry of lament
From the confines of your mattress-grave about your final exquisite poetry,
Written through writhing pain and tears as you faced the end of your life.
It took great courage to face your end like this while staying true to your Muse!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (December 15, 2014) 
(Narrative Quatrain poetic format)

*Der Matratzengruft from the German means “The Mattress-Grave.” 
(Heinrich Heine was confined to his bed, his “mattress-grave,” in 1848
with various illnesses until his eventual death eight years later in 1856.)

*Heine poetically referred to his pain predicament in the poem “Morphine,”
written near the end of his life, when he noted in two famous verses: 
“Gut is der Schlaf, der Tod ist besser—freilich / Das beste waere, nie
Geboren sein.” (In English: “Sleep is good, Death is better—of course, /
Best of all would be never to have been born.”)

*Almansor was a play written by Heine in 1821 that had a most famous 
line in German: “Das war ein Vorspiel nur, dort wo man Buecher verbrennt,
verbrennt man auch am Ende Menschen.” (Rendered in English: “That was
but a prelude; where they burn books, they will ultimately burn people as
well.”) The significance here is that as the Nazis burned the books of Heine
and other German artists on the Opernplatz in Berlin in 1933, they actually
celebrated this event by “engraving” Heine’s famous words from “Almansor”
in the ground at the Opernplatz site. The obvious depravity of this terrible
event reflects the innate cruelty, stupidity and evil of the Nazis as they 
burned the books and defiled the names and reputations of Heine and other 
famous German writers. Their actions were monstrous and shameful, and 
were indicative of mankind’s base instincts at their very worst. Moreover, 
despite converting to Protestantism from Judaism in 1825, Heine’s Jewish 
origins played a continuing presence in his life and were one of the major 
factors for his being scapegoated by the Nazis later in 1933. And besides,
the Nazis were always more interested in burning books, rather than 
reading them!  

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by cherl dunn | Details


In golden chains of bondage, was the royal queen
Brought forth, force to kneel, before the newly crowned
Pharaoh of Egypt!
Branded a heretic, a blasphemer of the Gods, a traitor to
Her people, unworthy to wear the serpents double crown,
Of upper and lower Egypt!
In silence, this once proud princess of the
Royal Egyptian court, stands convicted of treason, and
Sedition, without a trials voice, guilty is the rulings
Judgment, by nobilities closed court of law!
Thee Nefertiti are found guilty, and banishment
Is the judgement by thy kindred blood, your final
Punishment to be given unto the God’s themselves,
Let the name and image of she, Nefertiti, be struck,
From all monuments, obelisks, and never spoken
Of again, so the newly crowned Pharaoh, declared!
She was then so expelled into the custody of the
Royal priests, and taken beneath the royal throne,
Into the hidden temple of the unknown!
Deep beneath the golden throne of power,
Underneath layers of dust, and mortar stone,
Was she so led, before the Alters of Bathe, and Horas?
The priests spoke with incantations ancient tongues,
Evoking the deities to come forth, tossing sacred
Dusts into the burning flames, two figures of smoke
Materialized, a large cat Goddess, shimmering in
Illuminated torch light, and a dark black God, of death's
Underworld kingdom!
At the roaring growl of the cat Goddess, Bathe,
As a great wind, chilled the temple hall,
Priests fell backwards stumbling as to fall!
Then as the quivering temple did shake, Horus’s voice,
Thundered wide from hells gate, accursed she that
Whom stands before me, is to run forever, a beast,
Of fur and fangs, never to enter the afterlife beyond.
Bathe then stride forward, striking at the bare flesh of
Nefertiti, then both deities vanished into thin vapors mists!
Shaking as the bloody wound eloped forth red, beauty did
Transform, by the illumination of the basking moon above!
In sheer pains agony, the once proud Queen of the river Nile
Clasped, into a heap upon the floor!
The supple flesh of skin tore away, by the sharpened claw,
Her tresses of raven black thinned, as a short coat, of animal
Fur burst forth, the noble features of beauty, turned awkwardly
Inside out, leaving a canine wolfen mask behind,
Thy judgment is thus so given, daughter of Pharaoh!
Run she, this Nile banshee, howling beneath the
Elliptical tidal moon of Egypt, begging from within
Side the beast to be freed, from this the corse
Of Horas, but the Deity remains silent, and 
A lone devil hound, runs alongside the 
Shores of the River Nile!
Is this just fantasy’s legend, for no tomb of Nefertiti,
Has ever been found, or mummy identified.
Yet it is true that many monuments, that bore
Her name, were harshly damaged, why or whom did this
Remains a question for debate, no one truly knows for sure?
But the howling of the Nile wolf does sound,
When the moon appears full, and the shadows
Encroach, upon it at high tides monsoon!
Does the she, Nefertiti, the wolf so wails,
In the weeping tongue,
Trying to speak her hidden name, Nefertiti,
Only a forgotten Deity knows for sure, he
And the fallen Queen, whom once called
Herself the Living God, the Pharaoh of
All Egypt!


Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by cherl dunn | Details


It is a witchy tradition to pass down your first broom to
The next generation, but poor dear sweet Mable inherited an eye 
Sore from her elder granny, the handle topped end was crooked
In a twisted bent way, the middle was weather warped and taped
Together by gorilla glue, but the worst part of all the broomy
End, which instead of straw horse hair hanged like a droopy tail!
Embarrassed, Mable begged to have a different choose,
But her mother would not hear of it, it is a tradition 
After all, so make it do child, is all that she would say!
On Halloween night, all the other witch children took to flight,
Proudly riding propped side saddle upon their magical broom
Sticks of pristine condition, but poor Mable suddenly came down
With a mysterious cough!
Don’t you worry her mother said, I’ve got just the cure for you
My dearest daughter, some raw eye of newt will fix what allies
You, oh know Mable cried I’d feeling better already sorry got to
Fly, leaving her dear sweet mother laughing!
Jumping upon her broom stick of utter embarrassment, Mable
Zoomed straight upwards towards the moon, it zigged than zagged
Against the night skies, this youthful witch had a hard time just
Controlling the wobbling hobbled handle, than she felt something
Give way beneath her very bottom, the middle was splitting!
In complete horror Mable screamed, and in that moment
A disembodied voice spoke upon the winds of Halloween,
It was her long past away granny’s voice, child believe in 
My broom and it is a marvelous mystical thing!
So Mable spoke to this her witch’s broom, I believe in
You, and at that very moment, this object of distain
Turned into a golden rod, its misshapen bits shone
In brilliance against the moon’s illumination, piercing 
Through the darkness, oh my Mable sighed!
But at the end the horse hair still clung, the brooms
Energy level was low, time for refueling so to the dark
Side of the moon, where the nearest scare station,
Was located, here a stray cat jump upon Mable broom!
Skat cat, poor Mable tried to drive this calico kitty away,
After all she was a witch you know and only a black cat
Will do for her familiar, but this kitty poised itself on
The horse hair end, as if it were her place always!
Mable tried to lose it by dodging between satilghts,
Yet Mr. Tag-A-Long four paws held on with all its might,
Alright she thought we’ll test your true grit, in a free fall
Drive she zoomed, side swapping between power lines,
And street telephone poles, but when she turned around
The cat was still there, grinning right back at her!
Again her Granny’s voice spoke to her, I’ve sent you a
Gift my girl, my familiar if you’re nice to her she,
Turn into the finest kitty you’ve ever seen, so Mable
Leaned backwards ever so slightly, and patted the 
Ugly thing, and it changed right before her eyes,
Into an emerald eyed, black cat with sleek fur of 
Ebony, and the horse haired tail changed into a proper
Straw end!
Oh thank you Granny, Mable declared, I’m sorry
I judged your gift by looks alone, I’ll never do that
Again, and from that moment on Mable the witch
Judged things on a different scale, by what lies within
Not by appearances, the end!


Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by Gary Bateman | Details

King Vlad Redux - Second Cold War

King Vlad Redux – Second Cold War

Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin’s grimy fingerprints on current history
are for him nothing to gloat about—au contraire I say emphatically:
His actions bespeak one who’s not an architect for peace—not at all,
rather a quite deceitful dictator and a harbinger of a Second Cold War.

King Vlad’s old Soviet-style actions are clear for all who care to see,
and make no mistake about it—he’s without remorse and a soul to boot.
A Master of Malarkey and an International Bamboozler Supreme, he
certainly is, with a menacing image and not one iota of conscience.

King Vlad risks a Second Cold War with his violation of international
law concerning the blatant, illegal annexation of the Crimean peninsula.
With his brand of new style Soviet adventurism on the march, the Old 
Soviet Bear has been resurrected anew—and it’s hot on the prowl again!

King Vlad’s new spirit of nationalism for Russia is not at all progressive
as evidenced by his current war on certain ethnic minorities: Jews, Tartars, 
Armenians, Gypsies—to include anyone who chooses to resist and protest
against his new age fanaticism rebranded anew in the twenty-first century.

King Vlad’s lineage to and proclivity for the old Soviet Union and its star
cast of past gangster luminaries: Lenin, Stalin, Beria, Molotov, Brezhnev, 
and Andropov—to name a few, are quite telling since they reflect the real
nature of his psyche and the tragedy he brings now to the world stage.

And lest we forget, the innocent souls of the murdered passengers from flight
MH17 in eastern Ukraine who cry out, as do their families, for justice from
the criminal thuggery and hooliganism perpetrated by King Vlad in support
of proxy groups that do his evil biddings soaked in lies, treachery, and deceit.

King Vlad takes pleasure in fulfilling a fanciful role today of the old Soviet
Bolshoi Nachalnik (Big Boss), whose historical antecedents from Soviet Big
Bosses of past fame, doesn’t augur well for future democracy in New Russia,
and doesn’t align with the precepts of good governance and human rights.

King Vlad’s treachery and deception are certainly open for everyone to see 
as he executes his plan of disrupting the balance of the current world order.
We all should be forewarned of the clouds of tyranny and aggression that
could be unleashed one day on the European continent and the world today.

King Vlad, despite very strong objections and economic sanctions imposed
by Western leaders and diplomats, understands only one word rendered so 
poignantly in the German language: die Macht (or Power), which lurks ever  
behind his public mask and psychological makeup as a former KGB officer.

King Vlad’s actions reflect his virtues of lying, denying, accusing, rejecting,
and criticizing—all poison arrows in his quiver as a Master of Prevarication.
His real mask is that of a Monster who had the very best Soviet teachers and 
wishes to tilt the axis of his New Russia on a collision course with the West.

And so Generalissimo Stalin . . . how do you like your nasty little boy now???

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (November 30, 2014)
(Narrative Quatrain)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014

Long poem by Gary Bateman | Details

A Progressive Shadow

A Progressive Shadow

A series of real challenges and troubling world events 
In our twenty-first century give us a definite reason and
An urgency to pause and reflect on mankind’s situation.

Our world today—more than at any other time in the past, 
Is faced with an uncertainty and a palpable anxiety that is
Pervading on the world stage for all of us to sense and see.

These challenges and situational-events are so daunting and 
Form a “progressive shadow” engulfing the soul of mankind.
They cry out now for collective action to find real solutions.

Our technological advances are indeed impressive for sure,
But our stewardship of our planet is lacking, a true tragedy,
As the World Climate edges closer toward a vast cataclysm. 

Our political leaders choose to bury their heads in the sand.
Now is the time we must to face down all of these problems, 
As Mother Nature herself cries out warnings to our deaf ears.

The classical scourges: Tyranny, Poverty, Disease, and War 
Are still with us today as they have been from the very start.
They accentuate mankind’s great shame for all of us to see! 

Atrocities, Famine, Refugees, and Terrorism add their lot
To this growing list along with Nuclear Proliferation and
Political Mendacity for Personal Gain—with no end in sight!

Reasonable answers and solutions abound to these enigmata,
And people are in strife and rightfully want something better;
Yet the oft-noted solution is the “Head-in-the-Sand Syndrome.”

Despite any true faith in God, mankind must be self-reliant,
As a distant deity plays tough love with the bad decisions of 
His “Divine Creation” as we all stumble along without a clue. 

This creates fear, frustration, and anxiety that multiply readily,  
Making potential solutions and decisions even harder to do.
There can never be easy answers under these circumstances!

The tasks facing mankind are many and Sisyphean for sure; 
Yet we must have the courage to face them down as we seek
Realistic accountability from our politicians and big business.

Meanwhile God is watching and Mother Nature is waiting . . .
For mankind to do the right thing and to step up to the plate;
For the “Collective We” hold the keys to make these changes.

Can we do it? Will we do it? Can we rectify our inhumanity?
Can our nation-states serve the people and not themselves?
Can we not all realize that we’re in this tragic mess together?

Tin-eared dictators and fools will gladly tell us all differently.
The temptation to take the easy way out is always there for us.
But are we prepared to inherit this wind and reap its vengeance?

Meanwhile we continue on our present tortuous path oblivious
To the realities facing us squarely down every minute of the day.
In a mythical sense—perhaps we wait for Jotunheim to save us?

Eventually all the sand in “Earth’s Hourglass” will run out and
Our gig will be up, and all of us will be forced to pay the Piper!
Are we not better than this? Let us hope we can find the courage!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved – October 29, 2015
(Unrhymed Tercet)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015

Long poem by cherl dunn | Details


Beware the wrath of the Northern Polar boogie man, 
The Anti-Clause, a legendary beast of nightmarish voracity,
From folklore mythology, a dark creature of demonic prowess,
Lurks in the hidden shadow realm, in a freezing forbidden zone,
Of Artic temperatures deadly depth, where raw instincts thrive
On basic survival alone!
Sensing his ill prescience even Jack Frost takes shelters 
Offensive stance whistling not, nay instead leaving the area
For friendlier territories beyond, this creatures evil grasp!
Blistering creaking, bone chilling bitter winds blow thus,
For tonight it emerges, from whereabouts’ murky passages
 Unknown, beneath ice covered alpine mountains, a hissing
Snarling echoes against the rocky ragged slopes!
Behold the fork tongued beast, with piercing red glowing eyes, 
Steps outwards from the hollows darkest myth, and into the
Realm of humanities reality, a ram horned satyr, 
Whose existence is linked by fate to none other than
Father Christmas himself, the balancing scale of good
And evil must be maintained after all!
To mystical legends intertwined, by ancient scrolls
Of positive and negative, a good list, and one naughty,
Twin opposing sides, Old Chris Kringle beloved by all
The children of the world, and the Krampus feared!
A gigantic Manimal grinning with a seething grimace,
Unrolls his sacred parchment of tainted names and 
Deeds mischievous, checking by his talon clawed 
Digits each child will receive crimes punishment!
As the Krampus drool drops upon the newly fallen
Snow stinging it to burn and sizzle, an anticipation
Of his hunger never satisfied for violence and
Mayhem, the whipping branch quivers in this
Anti-Christmas creatures massive grasp!
As Santa Clause’s magical crimson sack holds the
Dreams of millions innocent, so within the Krampus 
Black ebony knapsack, lies the screams of countless
Generations of lost souls forgotten!
In the cold of the forbidden night, a stalker crunches
At the layers of ice and snow, with heavily laden hoof
Steps, seeking, waiting for the lights of houses to be
Shut off, then the Krampus will strike with cruelties
Unmerciful limb of justice!
Nay but some naughty offenders receive a terrifying
Fate beyond the clashing lash, at the double check mark
Of the Krampus’s fine point claw, these greedy and soiled
Children of humanity disappear, within the bowels of his
Ebony knapsack, never to return again to the
 World of men!
As the Krampus’s bag threshes, this beastly Anti-Clause,
Recites an Ancient unnerving tune:


Fee-Fi-Foe-Fume I smell the foul stench of a naughty one,
Be she or he fast asleep or wide awake, their souls and 
Flesh shall be mine, by Christmas morns faded rays of twilight,
Now hush, hush little Johnny or Jane, for I am thy equalizer
For eternal pain, beware my wrath and stinging branch,
Greed’s spoiled and guilt’s bullies, for I am the ageless,
The unrelenting, the creature known as the Krampus!



Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015

Long Poems