Long Reign supreme Poems
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All night I was ensnared by the thought of you,
An unexpected yet enchanting muse,
Lost in the labyrinth of your deep, haunting eyes,
A smoldering ember of desire within me lies.
Your passionate whispers, a seductive symphony,
Unapologetic affection setting us both free.
To trace the trails of your warm, silken skin,
Knocking softly at your door, as you let me in.
Your embrace, a refuge from the chill of the night,
As we entwine beneath the moon’s silver light,
Breathless sighs and fervent moans,
You ascend atop me, you’re my queen and I’m your throne
In this nocturnal realm, you reign supreme,
A midnight monarch in a gothic dream.
Letter To USA
We stand with you big brother
Consider your friendship the best
You've often been there to help us
When we found ourselves in distress
True we joke about each other
But do so in harmless fun
We remain loyal to our friendship
Our goal being freedom for each one
You've earned our admiration
As your neighbour we know we are blest
You've supported us through hard times
Two countries marching abreast
Some of your soldier's died to save our wounded
I dare say this is true
And many Canadians still bow their heads
When flying at half-staff they see the Red, White and Blue
There are those whose aim is to divide us
As they provoke war among kin and friend
If we fail to stand up against powers in high places
Our liberties are destined to abruptly end
Don't be fooled by deceivers ruled by the Prince of Darkness
Whose motive is to enslave mankind in poverty
War is raging against the Home of the Brave and Land of the Free
We cannot fail in this war for freedom
We cannot permit evil to reign supreme
We must leave our descendants with hope for a future
To achieve the American Dream
by Joan Donnelly Ellis Sept. 2015
Perceptions of the world around us,
are shaped by what we’ve lost or found in the
dusts of membrance, trusts of memberment
busts of everEssentialEssences
bodies of discernment
In every person, there’s a story
A deep, complex and vivid glory
Some see beauty, some see pain
The same landscape, yet not the same pane
We view the world through coloured glass
And some may see a rose,
others thorns en masse
of briared walls
of no escape, of the impasse,
razored maws agape
Perceptions can be joyful or bleak
A kaleidoscope, that’s ever unique
We love, we hate, we laugh, we cry
Our emotions, reflections that lie beneath,
ripples of watery eye, the deep rings
of being a being
Yet, if we could just take a step back
And see with the eyes of a love we lack
Our perceptions might just change
And the world could be transformed
in brilliant range,
back to a pleasing view the eye feasts to see
In the end, it’s all we’ve got
Our feelings, perceptions, and our own plot
of coordinate directions aloft
So, let us cherish and embrace
The beauty and the love,
with no trace of hate and have it all,
instead of the have nots
For when we see beyond ourselves
And feel the pain of someone else
Our perceptions broaden wide and far
And love can heal the deepest scars
So let us walk with open hearts
And see the beauty in all parts
For in this world of joy and strife
We all deserve to live a life-
Where love and kindness reign supreme
And hopes and dreams can always gleam
Let's shift our perceptions, just a bit
And make this world a brighter, better fit,
for a better place for dreams
2/14/17
At similar and different degrees
Animals, humans, and objects proceed
At lower and higher speeds
By the land and sea
Near many trees
Bearing fruit, or mainly leaves
Far too many display greed
Being naive, with intentions that deceive
And mislead
I believe
Indeed
I'll succeed
And achieve
While following through on deeds
As I aim to exceed
Burned, dug and pulled weeds
Some of which got cleaved
And eventually heaved
Into a orderly pile before, after or during the eve
Pollen in the breeze
Causing those allergic to sneeze
Near and far from hives of bees
Some pray on their knees
In the midst of Summer heat or Winters freeze
Evidence and other items getting seized
Some but not all could be got back through paying fees
What was difficult for many, may have been done by others with ease
Regardless of if they have prestige
A vast amount of cuisines
With greens
And or meats, some of which considered lean
Either following or breaking the creed
In the midst of, or behind the scenes
Handmade crafts and figurines
And others created by machines
Instead of charging in with a head full of steam
Better think and heed
While trying to grasp what it means
Do you agree or disagree
That is not all that it seems?
Areas with weather considered extreme
Occasionally turning things into smithereens
Another night where I didn't dream
Whether I did or didn't fall asleep in front of a screen
Can the soul be redeemed
Despite there being no guarantee
Finished tasks solo or in a team
Above and below terrain having ravines
Dirtied up, scuffed and cut my jeans
The same could be said for my sleeves
Not yet have I had mead
Or paid for a limousine
Close and beyond places known for the occasional stampede
Could it have been preventable with vaccines
For afflictions and disease
Above and below streams
As well as submarines
However this all may be deemed
There is no hidden strings or schemes
It is good to read
Brain, body, soul and spirit need to feed
Intervene
Got to switch up the same old routines
And reign supreme
By: Dalton Ogletree
This is a poem about Poverty
Burns like a dragon with multiple Limbs
consumes like a voracious vampire
which is dangerous even at sunlight.
This is a familiar Beast well known.
It functions from the inside to the outside
manifests with a paralytic effect
and kills like the venom of the Black mamba
It's hooks spare not the captured
not even those who seem redeemed.
It alters its victim's representation
like a new book turn old and dusty
and turns a bright head to a Crook.
This Demon prospers in its prey's lack,
a bad Master which enslaves with gross limitations
front and back.
Acting like a dark force
as it dominates and reign supreme
makes the situation so wack.
It lines the predicaments of the suppressed
in a rack,
as the monster destroys with each evil smack
rendering their remains, unworthy of a pack
and totally condemning their lives to the sack.
Becoming free!
Is not too far from the right track,
just consider a role model in Mark
and finally the nightmare will let go
when the mind is put to a self-hack.
In the mystical realms where shadows waltz with whispers of yesteryear,
Where the moon's silver tendrils weave through the fabric of the night,
The man, the mad ape, traverses, a spectral echo of humanity lost,
Chasing the phantoms of thoughts, the specters of dreams,
Within the labyrinthine corridors of his consciousness.
The ideal mind, once a sanctuary of celestial brilliance,
Now a vampire cloaked in the mantle of night,
Feeding on the lifeblood of existence,
Draining the essence of originality,
Leaving only a hollow shell, an echo of potential.
The man, the mad ape, is ensnared in a cycle of weary repetition,
Where every thought is but a shadow of another,
Every utterance a reflection of ancient voices,
And he yearns, oh how he yearns,
For a spark of true inspiration,
A breath of pure, untarnished air.
The night is a canvas, the stars mere pinpricks of divine light,
And he, a solitary wanderer, paints his sorrows in the dark,
With the ink of melancholy, the brush of despair,
Each stroke a testament to the madness within,
Each line a whisper of the dreams that once were.
Yet, in this desolate landscape of his thoughts,
The man, the mad ape, finds a strange, twisted beauty,
A haunting melody in the repetition,
A tragic grace in the decay,
And he wonders, as he wanders,
If perhaps, in this madness, there lies a hidden truth,
A secret yet to be unveiled.
For in the depths of night, where shadows reign supreme,
And the moon's silver tendrils weave their stories,
He is but the man, the mad ape, a dreamer lost in the sands of time,
Seeking the light of originality,
In a world where all is but a reflection,
A shadow of what once was, and what could be.
All night I was caught in the web of thoughts about you,
An unexpected but enchanting muse,
Wandering through the labyrinth of your deep, terrifying eyes,
A smoldering ember of desire burning within me.
Your passionate whispers, a seductive symphony,
Your unforgiving affection, liberating us both.
To follow the paths of your warm, silky skin,
Gently knocking at your door as you let me in.
Your embrace, a refuge from the cold of the night,
As we intertwine under the silver light of the moon,
Breathless sighs and hot moans,
You rise above me, you are my queen and I am your throne.
In this nocturnal realm, you reign supreme,
A monarch of midnight in a gothic dream.
But wait, watch me as I lose myself in your depths,
My thoughts intertwine, swirl, slip,
No thread of light to guide me, just your scent,
The remnants of a phantom fragrance, deeply imprinted within me.
I see you, I feel you, you are a living shadow, a waking dream,
And I, a happy prisoner in this castle of night,
Where the walls are made of kisses, and the windows of gazes,
Where time stops, and we are eternity.
The sparkle of your eyes, falling stars,
In a world where every moment is an eternity,
Where every touch is an oath,
And every whisper, an incantation that binds our souls.
Here, there is no day or night, only an infinity of us,
Wandering through the corridors of an immortal love,
A dance of shadows under the moonlight,
Where you are my queen, and I, your throne of dreams.
Oh, may this gothic dream never end,
May the spell of the night never unravel,
For in this realm of magical melancholy,
I have found paradise in your deep, mysterious eyes.
In Africa, it’s now obscene,
That epidemic reigns supreme.
Babies born with HIV,
No chance of life like you or me.
No matter how this virus came,
I think that man should bear the shame.
He should be using all his will.
To find a way to cure this ill.
Instead his greed just leads him on,
To rape the land ‘til all is gone.
To thirst for power, at others pain,
Bring ‘hell to earth’ to make their gain.
And non will stop this bloody state,
The ‘civilised nations’, yes they wait,
Until they find that they may lose,
The price of oil or cheaper shoes.
Then they will stand, for all that’s right
In name of God, they’ll take the fight!
And smash the ones with power and might,
To free the people from their plight.
But who’s the winner? I’m not sure,
Why would they really fight this war?
Sure they’ll keep their cheaper shoes,
The cost, the loved ones, that they’d lose.
And still, chaos would reign supreme,
Still, babies die where man has been.
If only we could see the way,
And take our paths a better way.
Through prophets sent from heaven above,
God’s shown mankind the way of love.
Still battles rage, twixt love and power,
I fear hell’s gained it’s finest hour!
Ivor G Davies
I am a furious force
you dare not reckon with when I am at my peak!
Assassin of startled vegetation,
I attack with no mercy or compassion.
Limbs of trees – laden with snowfall that I bring -
snap off as easily as heads of dolls
in the hands of a psychotic child.
Such is the magnitude of my strength
at the mere exhalation of my frigid blustering breath.
I roar and I rush, and in my path of blinding white,
some on foot have lost their way -
later to be discovered (if found at all)
frozen like human popsicles, some yet to even thaw.
Most vehicles on highways have no chance with me.
Zig-zagging off roads, they land in snowdrifts.
Tires spin uselessly, and for a time,
these machines of great convenience are temporarily doomed
as their occupants shiver from cold and fear.
At my zenith, I howl and I rant relentlessly.
Pray that should you meet me
that you are not too far from any buildings.
Pray too that if you should cross my path
that you will not be stuck upon a mountain.
There is where I reign supreme,
shrouding frozen creeks, pines and rocks of cliffs
with my snowy showy glory.
Dec. 29, 2022
for the "Winter Storm" Poetry Contest of Kim Rodrigues
Before:
When no middle ground can be found amid rifts
They’ll send in a few unsolicited gifts
The east and the west shall politely decline
each incoming gift with a two fingered sign
It’s ‘You show me yours and I’ll show you mine
You’ll find mine is bigger and faster than thine’.
Those egotist madmen square up, face to face
Each has a red button hidden some place
During:
There’s streaks in the sky where the incoming fly
They can’t be outrun although some people try
A sullen man says in a voice that is wry,
“It’s a good day for kissing your backside goodbye.”
One handshake may well have made this a good day
Instead I head home where I’ll kneel down and pray
I hope that my lady will manage a laugh
When I say, “Let’s hide under that old tin bath.”
After:
The dust and the glory, the horror before me
No Big Mac and no more knickerbocker glory
The buildings, the trees and the telephone towers
Lay in the dust made by opposing powers
We showed em, we taught em, that we won’t be beat
And we won the war but with ashes to eat
The reds are all melted and their allies too
And we reign supreme but hey… where are you?
I’m sure you’re here somewhere to savour our win
To search through the rubble for champagne or gin
It seems there’s no signal for our mobile phones
but why is your purse amid those charcoaled bones
What will you think of my distorted face
With tumours and fissures all over the place
The air is so hot and it hard to perceive
That if I should die there is no one to grieve
I’m breathing in soot and I finally see
Earth’s last pair of lungs are afire in me
My last living thought now that humans are done
Is ‘God save the west… and I’m so glad we won.’