Long Last stand Poems
Long Last stand Poems. Below are the most popular long Last stand by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Last stand poems by poem length and keyword.
A lone knight slowly trudges across the snow-covered land
Shooting pain raced down his left arm, for nothing went as planned
Blood poured from a large gash on his leg that had expanded
Winning yet broken, he wished for a death that had felt grand
Approaching his stronghold, choking thick black smoke filled the air
Dancing across the Barbican were wild red orange flares
Realizing they marched not to war, but into a snare
Quickening his pace for there was not a moment to spare
Arriving to find nothing but death inside the fort’s walls
Wine colored land told of the violent fight for the fall
Fighting back tears, he wore each slain’s memory as a shawl
Vowing before God he will avenge the deaths of them all
Crashing loud noise informed the knight that he was not alone
Pushing aside the pain, he moved swiftly from stone to stone
Seeing his foe, drawing his sword, he soon would stand alone
Praying, he charged for the enemy’s woven fate was sewn
In the whispering embrace of twilight's veil,
Where shadows lengthen and echoes of memory swell,
I find myself drifting in a river of consciousness,
Young boys, brave and bold, stepping into eternity,
Like crimson poppies falling on sacred ground,
Innocence forsaken in villages and towns.
The cold hand of death and the longing for peace,
Rifles, bayonets, and thunderous artilleries,
Chasing clouds and dreaming of ethereal dames,
Lives consumed by the relentless flames of war.
Sunrises in their hearts, moonlight in their eyes,
Yet sunsets came too soon, heedless of their cries,
"Mother, father, your beloved son shall return,"
As a thousand splendid stars on each face burn.
Crimson poppies adorning their uniforms,
Tender and warm, a somber adornment,
Crimson poppies beneath their nails,
In their boots; their final exhale.
Tea and meals prepared by mother's hand,
Now only in memories, their presence sketched.
Father’s gruff voice and playful fights with siblings,
Echoes of a distant life, yet empowering.
Home was now a trench, a brotherhood forged,
In the spirit of camaraderie, their hearts engorged.
On muddied ground, their last stand found,
Young boys, brave and bold, forever bound.
In the twilight of thought, where lives entwine with dreams,
A song of melancholy rises, a tale of eternal seams,
For in the silence of eternity, they remain young stars,
Shining in the cosmos, freed from war's scars.
Like crimson poppies scattered across the battlefield,
Their sacrifice an unending testament, forever sealed,
In a world where innocence and courage eternally meld,
Their spirits whisper in the winds, in stories forever held.
Mystic and dramatic, their legacy weaves,
Through the fabric of time, in twilight's eaves,
A tapestry of valor, in crimson and gold,
Young boys, brave and bold, who shall never grow old.
Stand ford tall
Gracing the campus mall
A tree decorated green
Living final years of a dream
Presiding over an enchanting scene
Festive California schemes
Cardinals pray
Clearing way
Knowing a sacrifice
Is the price
Grade
Needing paid
When an Irish man arrives
Axe wielding guy
Carrying a fashionable rainbow
Colorful arrow you know
“This one looks right
I do not mean to fight
Could I give it a whack?
And put it in my lucky sack?”
Clergy conferred
About the big spruce fir
Whose future is done
Aging some
“I will give you a few pences
And in the spring, mend fences
During Easter break
Penance I will take
But since I do not make
Too much working while awake
Yearning pots filled with gold
During months that are cold
And wondered, are you sold?
Bartering your large, wooded log
Dying from San Francisco smog?”
Realizing times were bleak
Cardinals decided not to speak
Called upon the band
Give us Cardinals a hand
“But that is Notre Dame
Spiritual fame
Nothing to blame
Or be of shame
Take the check
Monday morning still we will have respect
Only will be missing one big spruce fir
Stolen by a South Bend turd
Who thinks we are just St Louis birds”
Fooling around
In a woodlands town
Leprechaun Louie, Mary he hailed
Not wanting to fail
Any exams
Or scams
Onto the title game
Headlining Leprechaun Louie’s name
Notre Dame
I think of seeing beyond, above, and before.
I feel drained, fallen, and feel like forgotten lore.
I am a Dreamer, an endless reaper, and yet am only human.
People see me as if I know, wherever I go, and that I am in line.
I look at those people and say I dream of things beyond, I have a limitless song, and yet I am often wrong.
People who really know me understand I can get out of hand, I am only a man, and I will still try to make a last stand.
I am a Dreamer, an endless reaper, and yet am only human.
I wish I would not be so bound, that I could sing and make a sound, and I could fly without falling back to the ground.
But I realize that dreams can't be held, imagination and flesh cannot meld, and failings cannot be expelled.
I hope above the clouds I will be able to soar, that I will be able to open the secret door, and my boat won't be washed onto the shore.
I am a Dreamer, an endless reaper, and yet am only human.
Someday, I will see where the sidewalk ends, where the line of infinity bends, and I can feel true fulfillment with my friends.
Until then, I can keep marching on, keep looking for where the line is drawn, and then I will jump beyond.
I believe Dreams know of power, in dreams you don't have to cower, and always reality keeps their power out of reach.
I am a Dreamer, an endless reaper. and yet am only human.
Its cold amd damp outside
But brighter that yesterday
Maybe a sign of promise
This new New Years’s Day.
The shops are counting profits
The shoppers their new debts
Today is another Bank Holiday
That’s as good as it gets.
The rich are getting richer
Day by day by day
Thousands prepare to strike
For decent rates of pay.
Foodbanks nearly empty
They are having to wait
For the regular contributors
To be able to afford to donate.
The Brexiters dont want to talk
About the Promised Land ahead
Receding by the minute as
The world laughs at us instead.
There is still war in Europe
One country is near destroyed
But at least the arms purveyors
Are being kept fully employed.
Politicians preach on and on
Each from their Ivory Tower
Revelling in the privilege
They get from being in power.
The equinox is now passed so
Longer days will soon be here
The only thing that’s certain
At we start this new New Year.
Do we keep our heads in the sand
And pretend everything is OK,
Keep them there long enough and
Hope it all eventually goes away,
Or do we at last stand together
Consciously make the choice
To demand a better World with
The People’s strongly massed voice?
Traffic jams, the constant beat ,
bloody robotic tune, automobile cells,
comatose faces, last stand, this subtle hate.;
frying intellect, counting money ,faraway fields,
mind machinery,
comatose ,steering wheel illusions ,
dream delusional ;cement and aluminium soothers,
we should be institutionalised
left to play ping pong and getting two hundred volts on a daily basis,
and pumped full of anti fear anti hype anti consumerism drugs delivered intravenously,
daddy following daddy ,walking in straight lines, even the trees cant be bothered if you scream.
solitude, whiskey ,fat preachers sweating, caressing your wallet ,
the programme that was coded at your birth is now tattooed upon your soul,
What fire works
Fire works crackle crunch coagulate
send the guiding stars of darkness into space
from Phoenix to ashes ember amber empathy
forgotten exploding in the heart of unremembered kindness
A giant mushroom in the sky look carefully
you’ll only see it once this beautiful display
of melted cracking spirit humanity fusing by fission
all equality in times of death bonfire rockets Me
A perpetrator by collusion capitalized in self-importance
apathy inertia clever words semantic masturbation
pen in hand computer keyboards sending drones of hate
democracy fireworks for all into the ruins of compassion
Colourful a level playing field for splashing red
blood white bone meal yellow bile contaminated
black blue hematoma where brain once was
and the poppy sprouts the wars to end all wars
Some can afford the fireworks some lives matter
more than others in the sparkling pentagon of madness
enflame the lateral collateral transnational cooperation
of demise destruction disregard for guts and gore for asphyxiation
Taking in one last breath of invested greedy inconvenient truth
I stand by and by the way by the trajectories of fire works’ insane
obliteration and contra-pose love as first and last stand before the world
the words implode when gutsy poems won’t suffice and never have
05th June 2016
There are many thoughts and opinions about our elections in the U.S.
Someone even called it a disgrace; you’re entitled to your opinion, I guess.
Some claim to know all of the answers, but an ego is not always correct.
There are those standing on a soapbox and preach about facts they've never checked.
You have your conspiracy theories, but I’m afraid that's all you’ve got.
You are not an American citizen and your opinion just isn’t worth snot.
Like the Don, you can stroke your own ego. Maybe you’re two peas in a pod.
We’re the best and the strongest on earth; we are one nation under God.
Imagine there's no freedom in your country. I wonder what you would do?
You say Democrats are evil, but they would still have a place here for you.
They'd welcome you with open arms, give you food and a safe place to live.
Would your country be as generous? What would they be willing to give?
Before you dare to condemn our country and judge our way of life.
Do you know we’re the last stand on Earth and could save you from strife?
Instead of shaking your fist at us and spewing your vile words of hate.
Be grateful we are generous, and would gladly offer you our open gate.
While I struggle to understand
the battles, the wars
unending shadows weep
for the moments
just before duty called
you to the front lines,
where you would meet
the last encounter
with courage that I could never imagine,
valor, gallantry, boldness
fearless as the weeping shadow
my heart aches from the knowing
you were young and innocent, fallen
now a soldier beneath the ground
where silent memories can’t disturb
the freedom found, the freedom bought
by your last stand
grief whispers, melting
away all the passing dreams
where you once felt reassured
by the promise of years
years you didn’t have, because time
left you alone with the battle,
alone in a war with timeless
shadows, fallen soldiers
lost wars, wars that mean
we can breathe free, be free
in the way we believe
the way we see – our hearts sing
because you gave us wings
as you flew away, an angel now
an angel gone from this lonely silence
leaving the war, the moment
quietly – as we cry
remembering, what you have done
oh my, you have gone
but what you have done
defines my life, offers liberties
I would never have known,
gracefully, you stood, alone
fought that battle
so I might know
freedom is mine,
but oh, my – NO
freedom isn’t free –
but how she calls to me!
Thank you, soldier
for paying the price for me
Thank you, warrior
for fighting the battle for me
without you,
I wouldn’t know the peace
that comes from living a life
freely, free as free can be
free because you paid the highest price
you gave your life so that I might be
FREE
John 15:13-17
King James Version
13 Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.
14 Ye are my friends, if ye do whatsoever I command you.
15 Henceforth I call you not servants; for the servant knoweth not what his lord doeth: but I have called you friends; for all things that I have heard of my Father I have made known unto you.
16 Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should remain: that whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give it you.
17 These things I command you, that ye love one another.
PLAYIN' CATCH
Mom and Dad would have the car packed the night before we left,
the station wagon filled with all the essentials we'd need for our
extended camping trips. Dad always made sure I had my ball glove
ready for rest stop breaks. This was my favorite anticipated time of
the trip!... when we would stop, Dad would tell me to grab my glove,
but I was already out the door, lookin' for a clear stretch of grass to
throw with him. Dad had the same glove all through the years, an
old, beat up version that didn't have much padding. I used whatever
glove I was currently using for the team I was playing on, either
a present from him, or a gift, sometimes from a coach. Dad wanted
me to start throwin' easy, as his eyesight wasn't all that sharp, and
he needed to limber-up first, and focus on the 'heat!' I was tossin'.
I remember he would always encourage and compliment me on my
improvement since the last time we threw!. Our trip out west, "Custer's
Last Stand"...Yellowstone National Park".... our trips to "Itasca State Park"
and "Tettegouche State Park" always settin' aside time to "play-catch".
In time, Dad couldn't follow the thrown ball very good, and I remember
when he told me he couldn't "play-catch" any more; by then I was
playin' varsity ball in high school, and Dad would come watch me play.
I always still brought his old glove and favorite 'rubber-coated' baseball
along on outings, so he wouldn't think I didn't remember he was
still my hero, whether he could throw or not. I treasure those moments
now, and always try to 'play-catch' with the little cousins of mine,
encourage and compliment them on their improvement,
.......since the last time we 'played-catch'
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