Long Reward Poems
Long Reward Poems. Below are the most popular long Reward by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reward poems by poem length and keyword.
The fighting Temeraire
I fought at Trafalgar yet this is my reward
dragged to the scrap yard a dagger in my heart
The red ensign flew proudly by reputation was high
My crew and my captain spoke my name with pride.
Turned into scrap just for the cash
My history reputation just thrown in the trash
a nations national treasure turned into tins
just so a chancellor can balance his bills.
Now history as faded and so as my my fame
It's turners picture in the gilded frame
that keeps my exploits alive, till this day
I'm the fighting Temaraire the famous painting !
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Fighting_Temeraire the painting !
05052016 comp entry
The world of money
The reward of man
In our time is based on money
A better alternative is not
Allowed cos money defines it all
Yet there is no justification
On this monetary era
The isolation is clear
It equality is a false
It values makes us bleed
So many are hungry to be
Money rich
So they chose to chase
Money not minding losing
What money can't replace
Alot of innocent has gone
Down too quick
On this chase of money
Alot of women has lost
There moral values for the sake
Of money
It sad to see how depression
Can rule over People
When they are down just with money
I wonder is life truly is
Meant to be this way
Bella's entrancing green eyes
stare wistfully into my own.
She's a windowsill jumper, bounding with grace
whose taken over my apartment as if it's her place.
She's such a pretty little kitty, a catnip dancer
who seems to see herself as a feline, divine.
She charmed me on the day I found her
but as a rescue, she needed time to come to me.
I know this is where she was meant to be.
Sweet girl with a history that remains a mystery
She never meows with sass when corrected,
and her purrs are soothing whispers in the night.
Bella brings me hours of great joy
so, I reward her loyalty with a toy or two.
Wearing a long-haired burnt umber coat,
she sidles up to me, anticipating a petting.
Bella bestows love that I'll not be forgetting
A lap-curler when she chooses to be social
but aloof which proves the theory to me...
'Sometimes cats just like being left alone.'
Patriots are called upon to serve this nation in so many ways;
Soldiers, sailors, airmen, marines, each deserving praise.
Yet, there is a group who seldom get the praise they deserve;
They are the spouses, kids and parents, for they also serve.
Tho' they don't wear a uniform or hear the battles' din,
Their love and faith ever sustain their precious next-of-kin.
Until that special one returns, family life they must preserve,
For in this vital quest, these valiant heroes also serve.
They take seriously the kinship with their patriots in arms,
Praying for their safety and protection from all harms.
They're proud of the troops who our precious freedoms preserve.
Families are a vital part of the team, for they also serve.
Tho' the separations are painful and doleful tears are shed,
They face with determination the challenges that lie ahead,
And from their pride and devotion they will never swerve,
These loyal, loving families, they who also serve.
Tho' warriors are honored with medals placed upon their breasts,
And promotions are bestowed as reward for righteous quests,
Alas, honors aren't conferred upon families who with steadfast nerve,
Remain at home to guard and guide, they who also serve.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
A gentle,quite boy,not more than fourteen,
was lured by a much older girl
with lots of frickles and curly,red hair;
and her sweet name was Lucy...
We found our escape
in an alley where light never filtered;
it happened under
unexplained circumstances,
and as unfortunate as they might have been,
this adolescent suddenly lost
his virginity by the hands
of someone unregarding his mental state!
My aunt Rose caught me
in that unacceptable behavior
and slapped me hard,and told me
not to do it again!
How many boys like me,
innocent and mellow,
went through that same stage;
and had somebody touch them
in the most unthinkable place?
And I should have told Mother..
when Lucy led me to explore
what was too early to know;
inviting eyes of deception,
why did you choose me
and take away my innocence?
Lucy,you hurt that boy,with an unknown word,
and I wash all your sin with my forgiveness,
never to remind again a sensation I didn't seek:
to teach me what a growing child shouldn't have!
Lucy,everything felt like kindness;
and you gave for the wrong reasons,without guilt,
to get your reward of pleasure...
by offering me that intense desire
with inviting eyes of deception,
and harming me with intention!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
I.
You see them on the media,
internet and TV,
people who say,”Take that man’s cash
and give all of it to me!”
Not caring that the rich fellow
has committed no crime,
that the cash the state steals from him
is a sacrifice of time.
Not caring that wealth is not a thing
that can be distributed,
that the productive must make it,
that it’s a thing created.
There is no ‘pie’ that we cup up,
but a force that grows and shrinks,
and when we take from those who earn
we undermine the whole thing.
The productive just shrug and leave
then the collapse begins,
don’t believe me? Well why don’t you
go ask a Venezuelan?
Jealousy is no excuse for
a confiscation sick,
you’ve no right to a thing they’ve earned,
you’re not poor because they’re rich.
II.
In the first place you have to see
businessmen for what they are,
they’re not monsters out to get you
or they wouldn’t get that far.
We all chose how to make money,
they go it on their own,
taking high risk for high reward,
often risking their homes.
Others choose to work for others,
and that too is okay,
differing methods, but the same goal:
To head back home with our pay.
Should we demonize a person
for the method that they choose?
Or do many of us simply fear
it’s not something we could do?
We don’t have the skills to run the show,
their talents we have not learned,
and rather then learn them for ourselves
we find it easier to burn.
Maybe we’re just too risk averse
to try surviving like that,
can’t stand people built differently,
so we hate them and give flak.
Maybe we just dehumanize to
make it easier to .
But if they play clean then we mus face:
We’re not poor because they’re rich.
________________________________________
Life Changing
In these quiet woods, as shadows spread,
Timorous leaves whisper my secrets to the breeze.
A sentinel of time I am among the malus trees.
My roots run deep in my seed’s homestead.
--
I stir under the warm sun anew.
My blossoms blooming bouquets of pink petals fair,
I stand in beauty, unaware.
Unbidden but welcome, Spring has made its debut.
--
My branches grow branches, my leaves bear blades.
The bees buzzing come, a swarming tinnitus hum,
My stigma swipes their pollen, my honey glands reward their plumb.
Such is the dance of life, out of sight, in the shade.
----
Sated with Spring and Summer, exhaustion nears,
Pink petals pass. Unadorned leaves leave their color green for brown
And softly, gently, resignedly, flutter down,
Dumb in their final moments in the breeze’s tears.
----
Myself, in those moments, stark and bare, I ponder life.
Its fleeting fare seems awkwardly unfair to the fruit I bore, the leaves I shed,
My issue are now numbered among the dead.
But my roots still run deep, insulated from the strife.
---
A sentinel of stone I am among the malus trees.
And we thought that after a hundred writings the inspiration
suddenly ceases to exist making us completely wordless;
it's something we cause not seeking or following intuition,
halting the flow of the fountain from which inspiration rushes.
Why show eagerness to be among the top ten? Poets,
be aware twriteethat the creative mind is led by a pen:
it's not too easy to compose original thoughts ...
should they imitate another and claim it as their own?
Create works that others will read and remember,
don't assume that you aren't good enough as poet,
don't feel hurt by someone's idiocy, never pull your hair...
by making mistakes, you will improve your craft!
Diligence and patience will take you far and beyond,
realize that the creative mind is led by the pen creating an image
write passionately and get that sought-after reward....
all words written on paper become the testimony of a modern age.
“The heart has its reasons which reason knows not.” ~ Blaise Pascal
How does your decision process work,
extracting clarity and a course of action from the murk?
I'm sure that, for you, it works out fine,
insofar as your methodology is different from mine.
I begin by pondering my choices,
but find inside my head there are two voices.
I scratch my head, and begin to reflect,
asking myself which is most morally correct.
When all is said and done,
which hurts others least, and which is best for number one?
What is the reward? What risk would be incurred?
What is the probability of the result that is preferred?
I make a list of cons and pros,
and assign weights to each of those,
and after hours, days, and weeks of pondering,
I'm still at a loss to solve my "quandering".
Then, I instantly do what I knew I'd do all along,
and find that my decision was all wrong.
There was once a daring man,
Ordained as the "Knight of Love",
How he came about his name
Is a tale still spoken of;
Leon had a friend, named Jim,
Who loved a girl called Christine,
She was a beautiful maid,
Born to the king and the queen;
Jim was a simple farmer,
No wonder the king was mad,
How dare a simpleton love
The princess, it was too bad!
But Christine loved her Jim too,
And that's where the problem lay,
She refused to wed a prince,
No one but Jim, come what may!
And here's where Leon came in,
His task to convince the king,
That Jim was a worthy man,
Though a farmer hardworking;
Disguised as a wealthy man,
He came to the king's palace,
Entertained the king with wit,
Proved himself without malice;
At night, during dinner time,
He sat down near the princess,
Slipped her a strong sleeping pill,
Soon she lost her consciousness;
The king feared for his daughter,
Called the best doctors around,
But try however they did,
She didn't wake up, made no sound;
A week, it passed by and still,
The princess remained asleep,
No one could find out the cure
For her unconsciousness deep;
Then, Leon said to the king,
"I think my friend can help her",
Thus, Jim was brought to the court,
And some herbs, he did refer;
Allowed to see his Christine,
Jim brought those herbs to her nose,
(While injecting antidote),
After five minutes, she rose;
The king was super happy,
Leon asked, "Where's Jim's reward?"
Jim asked for the princess' hand,
For having her health restored;
The king had given his word,
And had to agree to give
His daughter, Christine to Jim,
And happily they did live;
Leon was appointed knight,
And served the king thereafter,
He'd brought his friends together,
Their home was filled with laughter;
They called him their "knight of love",
And somehow the name got stuck,
It makes for a splendid tale,
How Leon changed Jim's love luck!!
8th January 2023
For Hilo Poet's "Metrical Tale" contest