Long Ninja Poems
Long Ninja Poems. Below are the most popular long Ninja by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ninja poems by poem length and keyword.
should be sleepin it's 3 in the morning
Don't get mad that I'm up I have my reasons
Quitin on life not wanting to roll the dice
Dang guess that not a choice I've seen your face
Was on thin ice thinkin it be better if I die
But now your in my life I don't wanna die
Your smile makes me high
Thanks for making my life bright
Flyin when we're signin
Your my partner in crime no lie
When I'm facing a tiger or lion
your my Dwayne the rock johnson
Maybe a young Mike Tyson
Though highs and lows
You must be a friendly ghost
You notice when I'm down or something wrong
But you always manage to kill the frown
Thanks for being there
Always in my heart I'll hold you there
Ninja Turtle with you I see no fear
Know I love you my guy bestie
I'll kill for u if Necessary
Ninja Turtle thanks for being there and making me survive
Mine defense weapon
of choice comprises
standing stock
(lock, and barrel)
still like a statue, who
would not budge if
someone yelled "BOO"
cuz fighting back,
he did not eschew
on account of, his being puny
like one Ninja Turtle moo
tint, and quiet as Hebrew
service, which cowardly
behavior admittedly learned
early in said life,
(no matter such much ado
about nothing smart
ting emotional, physical,
and/or spiritual issue
destructive coping method),
whiz not true
lee healthy, and really wanted
to tell bullies "eff u"
while smacking brutish and nasty
short haired gentile or Jew,
neither response employed,
since "scared lad" knew
no confidence to
put up hazardous dukes,
and land "scape
goat head kid"
matter of fact contributed
to setting moss psyche askew,
which trademark docile withdrawn
modus operandi did Matthew
Scott Harris, (this
wordsmith) more harm
than (Sherry Jones),
his first goo goo
doll (me, her close in age beau
kindergartner - same as him
more'n fifty plus years ague),
she lived near,
this present crotchety
ole Scrooge, when cute
as a button little boy,
he considered (second residence
after parents relocated
from Cincinnati, O hi you),
to a corner house -
adjacent to Daily's
Family motley
cutting (insults) crue
on Lantern Lane
(within the neighborhood
of Apple Valley, Pennsylvania)
unsure if this poe whet
tick sketch I drew
clear as mud in your view.
fighting it seems to me
has been my way to survive
my journey has never been a cup of tea
have fought sickness to just be alive
I am a warrior strong . . .
and I live life by the music of my own song
I am not perfect- sometimes I do things wrong
but I am a ninja fierce . . .
yet, mean words will still my heart pierce
so, I use the pain and write a verse . . .
being a word warrior for me is the key
and for perfection I will never strive
I have courage to begin new each dawn
and I will never ever move in reverse
_______________________________
July 7, 2020
Poetry/Rhyme/Word Warrior
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1266-783-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, Warrior
sponsor, Silent One
Third Place
She is a child of the mountains, of meadows, lakes, and seas.
A pirate queen, faerie princess, ninja warrior, consultant to a king.
Sliding into crevices others might not understand; only herself to please.
She fits in with so many; her plethora of talents of which others sing.
A bit of a pyromania, loving the reds and oranges of a gobbling fire.
A loner, and yet, with many friends. Others cannot tear themselves away
She follows her muses, writing and painting, in comfortable attire.
Her days are filled with joy, for she knows the therapeutic use of play.
She is a child of God, but not the one that hides behind a church steeple.
A spiritualist, she believes in the beauty of mystics and esoteric art
She is followed by a multitude of adoring friends, strangers, people.
A marvelous friend, a fine citizen, with a generous glowing heart.
Stately surrender Jay Bird is calling.
Wait I sense the cawing.
Quakes measure the falling.
Liberty devoted to Love.
Ninja dreams of angels on the scene.
In dire straits I am resonating with my fate.
Open heart open to Love.
Yellow Bird flights with The Jay Bird and the Emerald starling.
Into the zone I confess I belong to Agape Love.
Running from the Call.
Siren song retaliate open arms open palms.
Nailed to Love I am one with The Jay Bird.
Yellow dash, Yellow Patch, Yellow Sparrow.
Jay Bird sings to me in the shadows.
Darkness overcome by Loves light.
Seasons changing now entering his flight.
Tickey Tack, Silent Jack, Cold cuts and Cold ties.
Liberty or death, freedom to speak or give me death.
Can we not say what we wish or are we forever silenced?
The battle cry of a Samaria pierces the night
"Ninjas meet your death, no matter how you fight me, the Samaria's decree is death before dishonor"
What you think the little sword is for
It's hard to stab myself with a Katuana
You finger Chinese stars
Well I finger a poisonous arrowhead into my bowstring
Your send out your Shadow Spirit
I don't care white ninja or black ninja
Well mighty men meet a Valiant man
And now you meet a violent death
There now buzzards and vultures devour you
This is our culture we only defend our land
We only sent out a hand of help
You slap us in the face, you wont ever do that again
Freeze the moment let us twins remind ourselves
Who knows where the spirit goes it is like the wind
Come here to where we look the storms in the eye
And before we perish bro we might as well sip on some rye
Is there harm if I don't take off my armour
would you be offended if I sais when your indoors
put your sheild to rest
Last night I dreamt -
The leaves on the long winding road crunched,
And in a black car I rode weeping,
And when it reached its final destination,
I was standing with a single red rose.
And again and again -
I meander up a labyrinth road into the hush,
Drooping trees creak and groan sadly;
And birds chirp beneath an inky purple sky,
A cold north wind is blowing and howling.
So beautiful and lonely is this place of tears,
But I wish to run far away from this dream;
Still, a deep peacefulness wraps around me,
This place is etched into my mind.
Row on row, headstones old and crumbling,
Inscriptions unreadable, others new;
I admire beautiful moss draped angel statues,
In the maze- the one I seek beckons.
Deep engraved names that I know well,
My beloved rest beneath my feet in peace;
And I drift this sad misty place, a dreamer,
Floating with my long gone memories.
I have stepped into a dream of grieving,
And I read words engraved in cold stone;
Engraved forever and for all eternity, beloved,
This is where I find you- only in dreams
_______________________________
May 7, 2016
Poetry/Verse/"Last Night I Dreamt"
Copyright Protected, ID 16-787-353-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Dreams
sponsor, Royal Ninja
Third Place
Social Security Electronic Deposit ruff lee = A Dog Send!
Node out if Trump
pad hiz way...
this scrivener would
batten down in skidrow
with the missus,
the latter who would veto
such misery, none
the less, she would
most likely experience
a sense of helplessness too,
which poetic title just came
to mum mind, cuz panic
stricken thoughts rue
asper what if that figurative
wellspring of government
small largesse
(electronically deposited
beginning of each month)
dried up sue
sink lee forcing me out
onto the brutally cold
bleak domain queue
wing up to the next
available steaming manhole
sink or mebbe best firm
me tug hoe to Peru
walking all the
way there (devoid
of money, would disallow
choice to drive or access
public transit), ooh
such hardship would
constitute an offal
spell, which more
likely, would find me
dead aah with new
more hardship,
(yea of corpse
this chap joking,
but gallows hue
more about cease
sing to exists),
but forced at the
mercy of teenage mew
ninja turtles, or
worse...stuck in rat
infested hole in wall
smelling like a loo
hmm...juiced perhaps
rapping on the door
of a Synagogue, could allow
admittance for this
enthusiastic, basic atheistic
Unitarian, though of Jew
whoosh heritage,
though aye knew
nary a whit aboot Semitic culture,
I maze well high tail north
in search for cold
storage in an igloo
calling out across the
miles of frozen tundra
"YOU HOO...LUCY?...DESI?...
...ANY BODY HOME?" when
of course irritable bowel
syndrome kicks in putting
cramp on me glue
tee us maximus. finding
yours truly to ejaculate a stronger
expletive than "FOO,"
which utterance does absolutely
nothing to remedy, thus...
imagine this poet stranded in
the middle of nowhere
with mush aboot doo doo
on my mind, and/or
same in his pants!
There are many things that make me happy in life,
But a day when I can go to the art gallery is the best;
I walk the many galleries, totally lost and delighted with the art,
From room to room, Gothic, Renaissance, Baroque, 18th Century;
The bright religious paintings of the Gothic era, the mythical painting of Renaissance.
I could dwell there forever, for art is life, a story painted,
And then I rest, perhaps a bit of lunch, then I begin again;
19th Century, 20th Century, and a quick visit to Impressionism,
A peek at Abstract (not my favorite) nor is Modern Art, but I view;
And in my gallery, because I am in Canada, there is the Canadian art, amazing.
And then the Aboriginal Art and the Inuit Art of Canada,
That is always very moving and beautiful to linger over;
Then after yet another rest, I go to the Water Court and Garden,
In the very heart of the gallery there is a reconstructed church;
Well as you can tell, a day at the art gallery for me is blissful with happiness.
For me art is part of life, painted of life, it tells a story of life,
and it brings me utter happiness that lingers for days and days.
______________________________
April 14, 2016
Poetry/Verse/Lost in Art
Copyright Protected, ID 16-777-976-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, What Makes You Happy
sponsor, Royal Ninja
Fifth Place
_____________________________________
Written for the contest, Happiness of Life,
sponsor, Nayda Ivette Negren
Second Place
Pies Politics And Birds
300 lbs. can’t hide my weight from stealing pies from bakeries
But I need my pies and will not be deprived
A warm pumpkin pie slides inside my shorts
Blueberry and cream go in the back and sides
A large slimy apple and a peach fit beneath my shirt
Icy against my thick hairy chest; is a little messy
Then a cheese cake stuffed inside my socks
As I waddle to the door to make an invisible escape
Ninja like and subtle, hoping no one sees my size
The baker stops me at the door
Questions why I’m stealing all his pies
Good sir, you are mistaken I assure you!
I am a politician on a mission
Gathering crumbs for my constituents
There are birdies just outside as clear examples, who adore me
Sir, do you realize who you are talking to?!
I am the president of Venezuela, former bus driver par excellence
Appointed and anointed by Hugo Chavez himself before he died
I have evidence; see for yourself at this address
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/04/03/nicolas-maduro-hugo-chavez-little-bird_n_3007965.html
I kid you not
Here I am speaking to the former dead leader today on national TV
He has taken on the form of a very little bird
Speaking fluent through his tiny beak to me
In Spanish, Parakeet and sparrow, Spanisparrowkeet for short
Therefore you cannot have me arrested, that’s for sure
I am the law and former bus driver of the people for the people
Now as president, I place pies in my shirts and shorts
Stay clear from me or I will start a war
Starting with your store