Long Martyrdom Poems
Long Martyrdom Poems. Below are the most popular long Martyrdom by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Martyrdom poems by poem length and keyword.
“My tears are testimony of my devotion to Beloved;
and from those tears white lilies will grow that speak the truth.”
Rumi
I had heard the legend of her tears,
silent drops of sorrow liberating her pain,
flowing upon the tip of her voiceless lips.
Her hopes descending like blossom buds,
drowning in ripples of rampant tides,
dragging her deeper into despair,
as her words suffocated among ignorant waves.
Trials of life had infected her mind,
with a melody of melancholic vapours,
setting her adrift in misplaced uncharted waters.
Immersing further, her cries no longer echoed,
as her heart choked upon confined consciousness.
Upon the depths of concussed misconception,
under electric, earthquake, haunting horizons,
her soul lay in slumber deluded by misjudgement.
Confused between regret and remorse,
trapped within the dilemma of circumstance,
her fears set sail upon satanic seas,
but only crawled into solitary seclusion -
forming eggshell foundations.
I was no hero nor did I have a halo,
but I was born to become a martyr,
in the glory of her martyrdom,
so I unpacked my heart,
ready for the final crusade of my life.
Treading upon a path of cracked glass,
decaying with crumbling concrete,
I wandered towards her speechless screams.
Preparing to feel the personification of her pain.
Empathic nature of my spirit yearned to
rescue her from the illusions of a fathomless abyss,
to release her from her internal crucifixion -
hoping we would merge like ocean and shore.
As I reached the darkness of her door,
like a star falling from heaven,
her truth like stardust, softly sprinkled,
flourishing and nourishing through me.
I placed my heart into her hands,
as light faded out the blackness,
like an abundance of kaleidoscopic petals,
her tears now illuminated like a rainbow.
Overwhelmed in this tranquillity,
shimmering reflections of emotions,
like gentle rain cascading from my soul,
I became tearful as they nurtured my heart's garden.
I remain intoxicated in their enchantment,
kissing her sorrows away for eternity.
I do not fear one that bleeds like me
My death is certain, we are born and raised to leave
It is my name that shall live when my shadow runs to flee
It is my child that shall rise to walk my land as free
My enemy looks me in my eyes and tells me lies
he tells me, we are peaceful, but I can hear my people cry
This is my land, so please my oppressor tell me why
Tell me why, I should not resist until I die
Tell me why, I am evil when I ask for my rights
Why I should stay peaceful, and live among imprisoned minds
Tell me why, the genocide on my child, is called fighting crime
and when they cheer over a dead body, I should not cry
I cry for all that seek freedom, and are killed from the sky
There is no bravery in a coward, only in a lion on the mountain top
There is no martyrdom, for one that murders an innocent child
Oh you, who holds my life in your hands
How dare you tell me, with what God I should stand
God labelled me your brother?
But my brother, you are my oppressor and the thief of my land
It is you that deprived me of the pride that my ancestors had
It is you, that stole my history and taught me to kiss my murderers hand
You made me sing songs to praise the cause of my death
You say this land belongs to me too, but my name is not on the map
Awfully loathsome in its brutality
Hate's cruelty is evil in its entirety
As heart agonizes due to its torturous despicability
Belittling human dignity, affecting creation by its complexity...
With the attack of hate's cruelty
Unborn babes can't enjoy existence wondrous beauty
Abandoned kids face challenges in obscurity
Bullied adolescents suffer in their infirmity
Battered spouses weep silently in their afflictions' severity
Discontented husbands and wives fight with pride's importunity
Victimized children wallow in separation anxiety
Struggling homes waver in their solidarity's stability
Wrecked marriages fall toward dysfunctional futility
Bitter family members escape from reality
Toward disillusionment, questioning their identity...
As hate's cruelty undermines kindness-sensitivity
Chaos and turmoil can be felt, devoid of unity
Echoing envy, contempt, panic, anger, oppression's intensity
Indeed, affecting progress and prosperity
Robbing people of joy, victory and peace around safety
While instilling fear, terror amidst insecurity
Even animals are not exempted to experience barbarity
When their welfare is neglected midst uncaring community...
When unchecked, perpetrators of hate's cruelty
Continue with their aggression insanity
While victims in their martyrdom-superiority
Stay lamenting midst abuse-propensity...
Oh! I ask God for His mercy, grace and pity*
While my soul abides in His compassionate certainty
Assured that He enables me to overcome hate's cruelty
By His offered relationship I can trust throughout eternity
Which my very being can share with hope's serenity
Striving to spread genuine love that prevails along respect's tenacity.
*Titus 3:5 Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost.
Dramatic monologue in monorhyme
April 16, 2019
Edited on May 20, 2025
9th place, "The Cruelty of Hate and the Consequences of Hate" Poetry Writing Contest; Sponsored by Michael Fulkerson; judged on 5/23/2025
(By ancient Christian tradition, there is a
point on the Appian Way where Saint Peter,
escaping from a Roman prison, met Jesus
- and realised that he had to return and
face martyrdom.)
These summer evenings were the best!
What is that colour? "Try celeste,"
he thought. Well anyway, a star
was breaking through the colour, far
beyond the pines. What lay ahead?
An aromatic forest bed,
in God's own open air. No more
restraints (his wrists were raw still), or
confinement in that stinking cell
(a country boy finds prison hell).
A day or two to reach the coast,
then back to work. But right now, most
delightful was the creeping dark,
tomorrow waking with the lark,
and going where whim took him. He
not even once looked back to see
that dreadful city. That's behind!
There'll be some ship, then he can find ...
Who's coming? Just a single man.
Well, that's alright. Perhaps he can
spare bread, or wine ... "One moment. Wait.
I recognize that rolling gait.
What's that he's carrying? It's The Cross."
The emblem of triumph in loss.
"Quo vadis, Domine?" (it came
in Latin, but it's all the same:
The Master understands us all).
"I'm making for the Servian Wall.
Two leagues are all that now remain.
Then I'll be sacrificed again."
And in that instant, Peter knew
exactly what he had to do.
They'd kill him, not a doubt, this time.
Commit the callous, craven crime
of having escaped? Such dereliction
can only end in crucifixion.
With lightness in his step, he turned.
Above, the stars in heaven burned.
They claimed they freed us
But if chains instead of whips
Was your idea of freedom
We'd rather be dead
At least then we wouldn't have to deal with your racism
All you did was remove the sun
Put is in solitary confinement
Psychologically tortured us
If this is your idea of an apology
We'd hate to see the solution
Was reparations segregation
Or was it martyrdom
You demand our forgiveness
But what have you done
To earn salvation
Especially when that's not what you want
You just want control
You just want to be a hero
That is not propaganda we are falling for
Telling you 'no'
Gives us generational power
Knowing we won't be your puppets no more
You're not our masters anymore
The taste of victory is the taste of no remorse
Our ancestors ran so we could walk
You'll know no peace until you acknowledge your wrongs
So when you demand forgiveness
We will scream hell no
How dare you still try to control
After everything you've done
The way you treated our ancestors
The way you continue to treat us right now
How dare you insult our intelligence
Did you really think we are that gullible
You erase our history
You steal our culture
You eradicate our people
And you expect us to be quiet
And be your soldiers
To do what you want
Then take all the credit
And reap the rewards
We know your system and we can't be bought
So now we'll say it one more time
You dont have our forgiveness But you will pay for your crimes
Gain more ideas from seeing
Tantalizing, yet, memorable into frame
Vividly exposing the beauty into dream
Garnered a masterpiece, an art, a poetry
Soliloquy is better sight in silence
Focus on the paint brush to finish what you desire.
Gain more faith from hearing
Mysterious, yet, fathomable to the heart
Impossibility is normal but attainable in sight
Everything comes from nothing, from nowhere it evolve
Things hope for, long for and believe into view
Spirit is power, words is the carpenter not void when it came back.
Gain more love from loving
Preposterous, yet, assuming it will work
Affection is a common thing when the heart is giving
Martyrdom it may seem but gain support after storm
Love is the greatest force that Strong Men vow down their knees
Power subdue kingdoms, but compassionate touch melts every raging heart.
Gain more understanding from wisdom
Deliberation, yet, profound ways to victory
Understatement with size, wealth and ability to foresee danger that lurk
Knowledge conquer the world in brevity, indolence and ignorance
Doom, defiance, defeat and ignominy is a thing in the past
Life longevity, career wise, and lasting development is the goal of being wise.
The people of this world are like the three butterflies in front of a candle's flame.
The first one went closer and said:I know about love.
The second one touched the flame lightly with his wings and said:
I know how love's fire can burn.
The third one threw himself into the heart of the flame and was consumed.
The alone knows what true love is.
Rumi
I sit alone in a silent field of fairness,
under saffron rays kissing sunflower serenity,
among dawn's daisies and dusk's dandelions -
watching buds floating away with whisking winds.
Fate does not favour my quest to soar freely.
In a meadow of humanity's betraying breaths,
our buttercup souls become ambushed by a suffocation of sighs.
When there is no justice in spiteful judgement,
visions of Basilisk slither with a deadly gaze.
Envious eyes poisoned by potions of venom,
abuse the selfless mistress of my garden's muse -
but without Eve there would be no Adam nor Eden.
Weeping on the grave of her past self,
her fatigued spirit struggles to fight and rise.
I watch darkness ascend in springtime,
when her mind portrays a veil in the misery of mist.
I feel like a helpless flame burning in ivory wax.
Untreated wounds with time festering
into an ebony existence of self deprecation.
I can see butterfly hunters with their narcissistic nets,
chasing my imperfectly perfect empress of empathy.
Her heart hungers for a plethora of petals,
to hover from a ruby rose to lotuses of liberty,
but predatory birds like harlots and hussies,
have lured her into a withering winter colony of thorns.
Sorrow stitched her eyes closed with merlot thread,
as her sanity sits upon the edge of heaven and hell.
The Devil wears a hat with an emblem of her sins.
The bewitching conspiracy of his crimson eyes,
tempting to massacre the magnificence
of her invisible crystal wings of bronze and gold.
In a martyrdom of self-sacrifice,
love reminds her that kindness glows softly like fireflies,
as she tries to find light in a tunnel of lost thoughts.
The universe echoes her cosmic whispers of life,
as psychedelic ink shimmers like starlight in her veins,
pouring compassion into a selfish blank canvas of hearts.
Cherry blossoms tint the air pink
and she's looking at the world through their gaze,
but knows like everything,
their fragile beauty is only momentary.
Blessed Assumption of the Immaculata! I wrote this in honor of Fr. Kolbe… they are the same, but not the same -- at the same time. Love the Immaculata! :D
7 sorrows of Fr. Kolbe :(
1. his mama asks little Raymond: “what’s to become of you?”
2. Mother Mary asks him to choose the crown of purity or martyrdom
3. Fr. Kolbe gets taken away/persecuted at Auschwitz in his native Poland
4. he witnesses the family man’s anguish over his death sentence
5. Fr. Kolbe, a priest with no family, steps forward to exchange places
6. he undergoes starvation and watches his fellow prisoners die around him
7. finally dying of a lethal injection at the hands of the Nazis
7 joys of Fr. Kolbe :)
1. his mama inspires him to pray for what he will become someday
2. Mother Mary shares with him the grace to accept both of the crowns
3. Fr. Kolbe is sent to Auschwitz, to minister to the suffering souls in solidarity
4. his heart is filled with compassion for his fellow man who loves his family
5. the Immaculata reminds him of his childhood promise to accept the 2nd crown
6. he spends his last days hearing confessions and encouraging trust in Jesus
7. he becomes a pure martyr of charity, making both his mothers proud
We've a third-string coach running the team
who can't even remember his own playbook
so a batch of amateurs
are running the show
from the bench
from the trenches
of their minds.
It's a playbook mirroring
Alice in Wonderland
where everything is viewed
through a kaleidoscopic -myopic
upside-down opaque lens.
where predators are entitled to
a lifetime of get out of jail free passes
then given a badge of martyrdom
when they finally run out of lucky gas-
it's a land with a Rio Grande autobahn
where illegals blitz through an open border
and its leaders put its own citizens on lockdown
where Honest Abe has been shot in the head... again
by far-far- leftists dregs
who lecture the working man about global warming
while poking holes in the ozone in their private jets
It's a land where black people matter
but matter somewhat less if they dwell in the cities...
if they slaughter themselves over drugs and turf...
if they happen to go against the current-are conservative.
It's a Land where blacks are ferried
to a rabbit hole called Planned Parenthood,
who (despite the name) ironically kills half a million black babies a year....
black wombs are rivaling the gas chambers of Auschwitz and Treblinka
it's a land with no rules except for its own citizens
who pay the bills for the lazy-for the illegal
for the ungrateful, for the criminal...
and for all of their honest efforts
or for having a differing opinion
or simply being heterosexual
and being of white skin
despite their best efforts
to accommodate
to be empathetic
accepting....
sympathetic,
are constantly branded
racists-
homophobic
xenophobic...
a genuine all-around
globophobic menace.
Yes indeed...It's an upside-down land
that's been stamped systemically racist
infested with white supremacists
even though a black man
was elected president
and ran the country for eight years
even though people of color have
the highest standard of living than in most
if not all countries
Why, then, if this country is so racist and hopelessly bigoted
do people of color flock to the border by the millions to get in.
If I were a person of color, I would avoid this so-called
house of white supremacy horrors like the plague
and roll the dice on another color of velvet ...
People.... welcome to Joe in Wonderland
So he began spinning her the most beautiful golden yarns
trying to dazzle and impress
none of anything he laid bare appealed to her
It was then he turned and said
he would create the wrath of Hell upon her cursing
each foul word striking
The emperor dashed at her
he felt beneath her
commanding his guards to put chains around her neck
they then threw her in the deep waters of the Tiber
The order was carried out to his very word
cast into the murky waters
God sent two angels to unfasten the anchor
took her straight to Heaven this gripped me with awe
how pure something beautiful is with love
She cries in our sorrow the joy of a rose
The emperor dragged her through the streets of Rome
shot at with a shower of arrows
I was dying she said her beautiful words
I fell into the sweetest sleep
she was cured when she awoke
the arrows turned and struck those that rained them down upon her
The emperor began calling her a magician
thinking to himself the actions of fire
would destroy this enchantment
that for me was a story of all stories
Heavenly spouse with He who placed the crown
of virginity upon your head
holding in His hand the palm of martyrdom
standing side by side with the elite in Heaven
She smiled this day when she appeared telling her story
entering into the glory was Friday
the third hour after midday
The very same hour
Our Divine Master expired
She is now a princess of Heaven forever shining loves light
filled with her beautiful colors
halo all dreams and hopes in loves prayer
Always love is a Heavenly mist of light
stripped to the bone forever shines golden bright
after writing this I went for a walk and for some reason the sun began brushing
warmly my face I could feel the deep gift of love stored deep inside
what a treasure to behold flowing through the veins warm glorious love
Pride was my downfall never saw the face hidden behind this mask
kissing humble I knelt at the lords feet
weeping begging his grace
I lost everything yet one smiles inside peace
darkness is just clouds within love always so pure when the light is complete