Long Legion Poems
Long Legion Poems. Below are the most popular long Legion by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Legion poems by poem length and keyword.
Rough diamond in the smooth is a theft
Romancing with the dead addressing death
With no intention to join the ones that had left
Yet time is impatiently awaiting their last breath
Some lonely graves lie on top off the hill
Pull down the mound that will never heal
Amen!
If only shiny eyes could see the moistening minds
Moving hands would write of the troubling souls
In every direction best possible to their binds
Covering every noticeable difference as loopholes
My sockets are without eyes
How will I aid, show up Lord, that madness dies
Amen!
Throughout this mess, we live in the blasphemous self-religion
Which agrees to the world's double standard's degree
A blameless morning with belief, black night filled of wizard's legion
Acknowledging the soul's capacity by choice to be free
Nearer to Thee oh Lord forever
Farther away from the worldly fever
Amen!
Through the unclear path to ancient home
Through a lost road to aging fire
Troubled by the visions of my own beautiful Rome
Tying up the gold to coal mining fleshy desire
Where light heals the night barking in the dark
Rides the diamond of another chance to the arc
Amen!
The January good night's love
The chirp of December's morning dove
By the unchanged weather in the sky
A world so beautiful to every graceful eye
Get me to see
The white golden sea
Amen!
as a kid i dreamed of being a hero ,wait! dont laudh please
not a policeman or fireman ,i wanted to join the justice league
to hang out with the green lantern to fly with superman
to be friends with the wonder twins or just swim with aquaman
what about wonder woman in her invisible plane that's th plan
or to chase down the joker with the dark knght- batman
what will they call me, what will be my name ,that i do not know
cause it kinda hard to find a name for the first black superhero
what about those tights i dont know i'll find something else to wear
then my next problem would have to be what to do with my hair
then i'd think of my body size and how i'd like to be cut
what could i say if i had it my way i'd be builted like the hulk
and what would be my powers since i would'nt really be human
i would have to have powers like the Xmen you know be somekind of mutant
to grow up with the superfriends fighting the legion of doom
those are the dreams i use to have as a kid alone in my room
Emma Frost (aka White Queen) is a powerful character in Marvel Comics. Is
she a hero or villain? Sometimes, it is hard to know! She is a mutant with the
most amazing telepathic skills. She can transform herself into a diamond shape with enhanced strength and with no human needs like food or water but she can be shattered when in this state. She was born in Boston, United States to wealthy parents. He father was cruel and domineering, her mother hooked on drugs, she had siblings, but none give her any emotional support.
She was bullied in school and had only one friend, a teacher. Then,
suddenly her telepathic powers manifested and she could read minds. Emma
was rejected by her family. So, she left, becoming homeless. Did I mention
that she was very, very beautiful. A femme fatale in high heels, a character
designed for eroticism, a cruel beauty.
While homeless Emma meets a young man and falls in love. Finding
out that her boyfriend Troy is in debt to mobsters. So to safe Troy they hatch
a plan to do a fake kidnapping of her wealthy father, but the thugs turn it into
a real kidnapping. Troy is killed. There is a battle and Emma uses her powers
to confuse the thugs, calls the police and keeps the ransom money, which she
uses to go to university. She gets degrees in many fields.
Emma gathers vast wealth and is the owner of several multi-million
dollar conglomerates and has many investments. She has many affiliations and hundreds of adventures and battles, that I would need a much longer poem to include. She has gone by many alias, usually White Queen, she
uses her beauty as a weapon.
Her affiliations include Hellfire Club, Hellions, Generation X, Dark X-Men,
Phoenix Five, Legion Accursed, Quiet Council of Kraboa, X-Men, The Cabal,
Xavier Institute, and the Marauders. And she has been in many, many of
Marvel Comic story lines that are too numerous to list.
I like Emma Frost the White Queen . . .
________________
March 24, 2023
Poetry/Prose Poetry/Emma Frost
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1533-326-24
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Marvel
Superheroes Supervillians and Superanimals
sponsor, Robert James Liguori, Judged 03/24/2023
Bull eve me (Adam, whether existence
fact or fiction),
his immediate legion heirs whole
heartedly partook
to regale no Joe king paternal prominence,
sans legendary, fraternity,
and consanguinity subsequently implemented
faux pas threatening Nittany Lions role
attested by this papa, a curmudgeon
resident of the North Pole
burrowed deep within tundra
necessitated drilling permafrost black hole
son, which boring task found me dissatisfied,
asper penultimate existential goal
thus, I decided to sell coal
to New Castle, transported
within loco motive conveyance
doubling up as fish bowl
decimated crossing Arctic
great barrier reef Atoll
lauded me with mouthy gift horses,
(one Mister Ed, adore
hubble hoof only high saddled
Equus caballus neighing boar)
feted me, a hay er raising chore
followed by Mister Barns Noble encore
generation standing ovation,
a deafening applause
resonated across the floor
then an electrifying speech
by (plan net fitness diehard) Albert Gore
describing raping, pillaging,
And looting dip lore
able incursions as heath n (moor
or less opprobrious upon poor
sacred Mother Nature
whimpering and softly doth roar
ring, now treated like a whore
telltale global devastation
impossible to ignore agog
pollution extant across
entire world wide web bog
gulls restorative legislation,
when offal debris doth clog
estuaries, where watersheds habitat
choking with despair,
thus imperative to grab hold collective
figurative (corny as this may seem) ear
cuz jackknifed, irreparable,
horrible gnashing fear
fully betokens catastrophic
environmental fractured glare
ring hooker impailment here
and everywhere.
Concentric circles around,
They go down,
Hypnosis,
On Jezebel's forehead, metope, brows,
The mermaid in the lodge,
Dressed in fog and smoke,
Bad woman,
Body made of bricks of masons,
Alchemy to turn iron into gold,
The gold of election,
Fake olive oil
From mercury of foul blood,
Against Elijah the prophet
And vineyard of Nabaoth,
Father's true election in the light of the Word,
Of Love, the God,
Song of Songs,
Mysterious, but shining and lighting the Communion,
The lightest Dove,
Like the night of Christ's birth, Jesus born,
Otherwise, it is only fake election, consecration,
Self-idols,
False nobles,
Eyes wide shut behind closed doors,
Pharisaic secret of Judas Iscariot,
Study the Bible to know
How to put 30 coins into the bank account,
False silver on Mount Sion,
Sensual magic of bronze in Europe,
Brave new world,
Seek Jesus not for salvation, but to kill the Lord,
This fox,
With the abomination of desolation in sacred points,
On the earth,
Battle of Salome and Miriam, sister of Moses,
Salome the fashion,
Pharisaic barrenness for leaves cloned,
With plans for their 30 coins, billions,
Life without the cross,
The herd possessed by legion,
Legion of false devotees in fake elevation,
Inequality is the source of all sorrow,
Otherwise, this delusion should be broken,
“Stop,” says even the donkey of the human body to help the soul,
No need for this operation,
Like the war against Creation just now,
Elijah the prophet jokes
About false Baal's prophets with auto-mutations, self-mutilations,
Again, knight Ivanhoe the Precursor,
The arena of the town "Egypt and Sodom,"
And Robin Hood in the crowd is Enoch,
Two angels ask the family of Lot,
In the seven churches of Revelation of John,
"In missions across the Earth, these seven eyes on the Lamb,"
And two eyes of the Lord Lamb and Lion,
Like forerunners for reconnaissance in force,
Seeing the false armor of fake knights in front,
Type - count Rochefort,
Not noble at heart, asking for the prize of Nobel,
Glow on Baskerville Hall's dog,
Back side of the card six, six, six joker,
Mercurial clothes moths play their poker,
Neo-colonialism form lead homunculus of noting.
Now, before my sister
feels cheated
I have to drop for her
some lines belated!
You are his honourable
TQ
The reason he left the
others on the queue!
As into matrimony you
go,
Peace and subtlety you
go with I know!
You are his honourable
TQ
The reason he left the
others on the queue!
The things that make
him in you happy
I pray will not by HIS
grace become flappy!
You are his honourable
TQ
The reason he left the
others on the queue!
Your best behaviours
and religion
Made him stay by you
far like a legion!
You are his honourable
TQ
The reason he left the
others on the queue!
Celestially destined you
are for him
Terestrially forever
you will be with him!
You are his honourable
TQ
The reason he left the
others on the queue!
Space and time again
will hamper I
So, I have to stop with
a teary eye!
You are his honourable
TQ
The reason he left the
others on the queue!
Barakah and Sakinah to
him you shall be
Aljanat, not hell to you,
he shall be!
You are his honourable
TQ
The reason he left the
others on the queue!
An eerie glow swallows up the sun as our men lie wounded,
Brass against iron, loud clanks of armor, and the glorious hymn of victory,
Today we are knights, and our bodies float above the crushing tides of lamentation,
So don’t you look down at me, and remember my name every time you glare,
Because we are knights, and our blood carries honor across the grieving lands.
Thick fog surrounds the grasslands and a loud piercing bell echoes across the sky,
Strong rains patter across Geneva in fury, and the sky has blackened...
I feel a divine presence in the air tonight, because God lit up the sky with lightning,
And He had cast down a legion of rain which sounded to the rhythm of death,
The storm was not a threat, and I did not hide from it,
Because it felt good to encounter a storm that bitter evening, you hear that?
It felt good to see the clouds break and shatter in the form of rain,
It felt good to hear nature scream in the form of violent thunder,
And it felt good to see and know that the grasslands were breaking down with me,
To feel my pain being shared across the plains, to feel understood among the mountains.
Amidst the chaos a light was casted down from me,
A magnificent beam,
And a voice came roaring through the sky,
In His words I had found consolation,
For He told me,
“Do not seek vengeance, my son, do not act on hatred,
For everything will be put in its place,
Yes, I will bring you justice”.
The pounding of my heart softened, it was all clear in that moment,
For He had filled my trembling body with benevolence and a burning sense of hope,
Today I am a knight, but I shall not fight against my fellow men,
Today my blade will pierce through the chest of the damning beast named sorrow,
And I saw hope in the form of lightning, yes, I saw hope dance through the sky,
And it glimmered splendidly,
What form, what grace, and how magnificent its beauty...
Yes, I saw lightning glimmer with hope while the rest remained hidden,
For they saw death while my dreaming eyes remained fixated towards the beauty of its rays.
Who decides what historical events adorn
textbooks students read,
hence a starry notion born
grew up while
this lumpenproletariat day dreaming,
Asian aw shucks husky
husbandry furrowed brow gritty farmer
barnstorming across
expansive fields of baby
(barely) barley corn
crib bed crop 'pon harvest time,
(an maize zing genre), especially
when enriched with humus
laden loamy muck cob bra,
then aye delightfully
trumpet from dehorn
of good 'n plenti kernel Sanders gave me
saluting rank and file fool's capped
fecund fashioned earthborn
dunce sing tassels,
versus growing seasons gone by,
when draught of ideas forlorn
despite futilely blowing on my flugelhorn
high and dry reap peat head paltry yield,
asper when this strapping chap
a sweaty backed greenhorn
pondering why agrarian laborious life of toil
omitted as part and parcel of "newsworthy"
posterity sagas deeming
shenanigans of highborn
and/or "FAKE" headlines crowd inborn
noble folks,
who grease palms of industrialists,
whose quaking self importance
thwarts aside rural cosseted
krummhorn grounded bumpkin mor'n
how kapellmeister coaches bourgeoisie
helping determine
zero absolute value of newborn
fated to slave away
till body electric outworn,
yet paradigm shift of
(butter late then ever)
jiffy popcorn version
sown by seeds of Jethro Tull,
whose bonhomie with brio didst reborn
agricultural revolution took root,
whence before long some did scorn
and lamented machinations
ordered simple existence ripped and torn,
where antithetical views suppressed
and unto revolutionaries
became legion and well-worn.
There's a legion of doc-ologists to keep us on our feet.
A glance in the telephone book reveals a list complete!
Seems there's an "ologist" to care for us from head to wiggly toes,
Prodding, poking and dosing to ease our miserable woes!
Praise the Lord for geront-ologists who care for folks my age,
To ease our minds, hold our hands ushering us t'ward dotage!
Then there are the psych-ologists who meddle in our head.
The practice of the proct-ologists is better left unsaid!
The dermat-ologists who cleansed our faces of acne as a teen,
Now hassle us about slathering ourselves with sunscreen!
I'll never understand how anesthesi-ologists operate off hand,
But I know their potions ease the pain as we relax in la-la-land!
Gynec-ologists specialize in treating ladies' singular ills,
Including that vexatious time marked by hot flashes and icy chills!
Cardi-ologists are vital for keeping us alive and kicking,
Checking aortas and such to ensure our hearts keep ticking!
I'll coin the term "the-ologists" who deal with our languid souls,
Directing our thoughts upward beyond mere earthly goals!
Radi-ologists, ur-ologists, "other-ologists", I could go on ad infinitum.
Lastly, there are cosmet-ologists to pretty us up when we succumb!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
“Death to Caesar!!!”
“What!! What did you say???”
I said: “Breath to Caesar!!”
“Long and healthy and contented breath.”
“So which of his Legions are you a part of?”
“OH! God, if there is one, they call us the freezing legion.
“See these fingers, well where they used to be, well
they got lopped off. It was so cold out they didn’t even
bleed. Saved my indentured frigging life.”
“Those that died froze so quickly we didn’t even
need litters to carry them off the field of battle.”
“Just picked them up stiff as you please and threw
them in the cart.”
“So What made you join up?” “Trouble with the law?
or In-law?” “Too many tarts?” “Eh, C’mon.”
“Damn, same old story. Dad’s a senator, always bragging
about his son, you know.”
“Agricolas this, Agricolas that.” “Dammit, stop snickering.
He thought it would be an advantage to have an outlandish
moniker.” “So he hung this one on me.” “So one day I just
got fed up, said screw this, and went off to become a legionnaire.”
“Guess I showed him what he could do with his stupid name.
Now I kill farmers, well not just farmers, just about anybody
that gets in the way of the Legion.” “Not a bad job though, as
long as your not the one frozen stiff and tossed in the cart.”
“Well, I bet your dad’s proud now.”
“Nope, hasn’t spoken to me in three years. Says I spend too much
time hanging about with the lower echelons of humanity.” “I told
him we weren’t partying, that I hacked their limbs off, crushed their
skulls, decimated their homes and villages.” “Last thing he said to me
was Nail Caesar!!” “Ya gotta love these loyal subjects.”
for Isaiah Zerbst, The Roman Legion contest