Long Rise to power Poems

Long Rise to power Poems. Below are the most popular long Rise to power by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rise to power poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Let Me Share Our Riches

Dear God, I do not ask for health or wealth. People ask you so often that you can't have any left. Give me, God, what else you have. Give me what no-one else asks for. Amen.
Dakota Fanning

We are more than the sum of our oddities,
When the body fails, so do our qualities
A deep and abiding affection for life...
When your stomach just won't let it.

What if we lose everything we hold dear?
What if we suddenly lose all we live for?
Everything crumbles in your hands as burned paper...
Can you wear it or stand in front of it?
And fight with anger as a fuel spear.

Oh, God, you are worthy of my praise!
You are my precious treasure
And the nectar that soothes my anxiety
You are utterly reliable in every way...

When passing through the squeezer
You are with me...
There is no way to hide no matter what
Nothing more, God, I praise you
You brought me back with your own touch.

Ah, if we listen to our hearts and love God!
We will feel refreshed and lifted
This leads to ecstasy...
That light from God by worshiping him.

While I stroll by your river
I shiver when I swallow your water
I'm falling apart!
What a difference love has made!
And Lord, I will never hide from you.

A fitter future for the hungry
Expression of anhedonia and glaze
Facing the light is relaxing
A genuine smile can save their soul
Speak and they will listen with unanimity...

Swords will be besotted into the plow
To grow crops and feed humanity
And the poor will prosper and rise to power
To do this bold radical world...

What if we don't have friends?
Would it be genuinely lonesome?
Life will have no meaning or purpose
Don't we need such close friends?
No one is a lonesome ship at sea
We should sustain those bonds, dear.

Welcome tired hearts
Abide a break for your tired feet
Stop talking, sing more!
Grab less, share more!
More kisses, fewer kicks!
Not noisy, but soft!
Stop bragging, more bending!

Family and peace
Kindness is always free
It grants us calm, for love is a blessing.

Written: December 25, 2022

Priceless Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.


The Mysteries of Secrets 7

the chinese shall be over run by russian and american shall try to aid them but to no avail, because the Hebrews shall refuse to fight for american, and the chineses shall lose the war till they are forgiven by the hebrews. the Hebrews shall overrun the american government who have held them in the trash for centuries, and the other races shall leave american till the war is over. the Hebrews shall live in 26 state and the other will have 28 state as long as they don't try to capture the Hebrews again who will destroy them. both these years are in the years and month of mar. looking into the seeing pot, I saw an great angel lift up to embrace the cruel mistreated and forgotten children of YHWH their Elohim and Yeshua their savor, and hell open her mouth for the souls of the fair one's, for the sound of their woe was greater than their weeping, cause on earth they did not care. the last thing I saw in the seeing pot, was a great fire on earth that burn up 2/3 of the earth, but africa was not touch cause africa cries out for it taken children that lives in american, but africa was in error for these are not her children. but nevertheless africa and the mideast shall be call the two great nations. some might see leo and virgo married and their son a fugitive, yet the son shall rise to power for a quickly unhappy and painful death, the royal flame shall meet the blood filthy death and his name dishonored and the new black king shall be called the greatest one. under a noble blood a new gift to men shall be given to discover a conspirator. in order to warn they of the arab laws, the death of the arabs king nero 2. weeping for your great seat rome and laying down your demon ways, for he who is called the holy father shall find out that he not. the blood shall show rome this so to stop saying his holiness. did you see it, did you not. nevertheless we shall call them out. antichrist might fall from heaven his armies as great as a city a great robber. and I stop writing to place my pen down.
Form: Sonnet

Hieroglyphics On the Tiber's River Walls

Walking along the Tiber's River walls,
one discovers hieroglyphics
depicting images of Romans
engaging in battles; they seem
mythical warriors so appealing. 

As legend goes, Romulus 
became the first roman king,
he founded Rome once 
an insignificant rural village;
in the shortest time, 
it grew into a powerful city 
that ruled the ancient world
with intimidation and atrocity.

Each hieroglyphic tells 
a story of victory,
of defeat, of conquest,
of cruelty and dominion:
hear Julius Caesar 
speak against his enemy
in the Roman Forum!

It's such a sorrowful echo of distrust;
hear the shouts of proud citizens
overtaken by anger and disgust...
even louder they would be after 
his premeditated assassination!

Every empire old or new
has known its glory in full;
and Rome more than any
empire has excelled them all.

If those hieroglyphics tell 
of its greatness and superiority,
they also should expose 
the evil minds of some emperors: 
like Caligula, Nero and Diocletian
who ruled with a steady iron hand.
Constantine's conversion
to Christianity brought harmony,
the inhumane slaughtering
of innocent Christians was halted.

Would this empire have survived
without its legions of mighty stronghold?
Hieroglyphics itched in triumphal arches,
temples and monuments attest: 
that the rise to power takes 
an ingenuity which begins
with a strategic concept.

Today a world government 
is in its raw state, other
hieroglyphics will be carved,
and along with holograms, 
one sees images beyond 
imagination and belief.

Will humans leave
a testament of their 
existence with 
a science so brief?
Form: Rhyme

Kingdom of Ruin


Rising from the desert sand
was a shimmering mirage
of a thousand shouts
	Heated winds of fanaticism,
	intense and blowing violently loud
Shrill calls to blood prayer seethe,
breathing fiery invocations
of a perverted philosophy
Screaming death to the infidels — 
a scarlet smeared mirror reflecting
black cloth covered savagery
Crimson prayers are the daubed untempered mortar
which cements the foundation of this shakily rising kingdom
Whet the glittering scimitar swung grisly:
	Beheadings are the blade’s
	propaganda recruitment shock TV
Desert crisis ... dreaded carrion claws of ISIS,
oasis mirage bathe the sociopaths in bloody bliss  
Mutilated bodies floating upon the desert sea,
a raised dark flag boasts of a fleeting victory
Prideful utterances of unspeakable barbarity
	Contemned caliphate mercurial rising ...
	now descending quickly below the horizon 
Crumbling desert kingdom,
butchery sow the seeds of your ruin
The sand castle rise to power was ever so brief,
a pirated religion kingdom soon to end suddenly
Taking hostage your own faith,
now the proselyte guards are  
fleeing from the palace carnage
	Crumbling desert kingdom,
	butchery sow the seeds of your ruin
Innocent blood spilled in the sand
will be your caliphate’s undoing
	Crumbling desert kingdom,
	blood reap the harvest of your ruin
Let your prophets of terror and rage
shout a false sanctum call to prayer
Intoning not this one truth: God will surely repay!
Form: Elegy

That's Already 12 Marks

I'm told to write the history of Korea
Told to tell her favourite tales
Follow her story dynasty by dynasty
Till I relate with the current world
I'm told to sing her special songs
Maybe not sing but write her poems
About kings that ruled with wisdom
And princes that destroyed her honour
About authors, singers and artist too
About her traditions and culture 
Those banished and those modified
About political conflict and sieges
About her music and rise to power
So for my worthy article
I went on my research for twenty marks
I learnt their language and their history
Heard their cries and felt their pain and joy
Fired up and excited, I began to write
Page I, page 2,page 3…
I filed my paper arranging it piece by piece
Till in all I counted eighteen pages
Filled with pride at my work
Whistling away I went for approval
So sure of what I had written
"OH MY GOD" my teacher exclaimed
But that had only been in my dream
For in truth I lost my work
Eighteen pages of hard work all gone
So in a rush for at least half of the marks
I rushed to write all I could remember
And all my research  became a two page article
It hurt me so much but what could I say
I had no choice but to take mine for evaluation
And when it was all over
With crossed fingers, I stared at my result
Lost for words I saw a sixteen
I went to my teacher for some sort of explanation
She smiled at me showed me two paragraphs and said
That’s already twelve marks
Form: Narrative


Calculations

. . . = . . . + . - . """
Dimple dash dalmatians speak mostly in monosyllabic format. Barking once or twice is an overlay. A symptom of subjecting the subconscious flow to tune into remarks made by flying bull carriers. When accompanying a large amount of mist over a border it is good to attune sounds. Sound is sharper in grey shrouded shapes. So always move around very very slowly. It really does make no sense nor logical to throw strawberries at lemon gateau's. For they withstand the breaks of curvature due to the many layers of cream. And chocolate trifles are extremely hard to agree with when they are in an ungrateful mood. So now it is time to set the elephants, rhinos, ostriches, turtles and gorillas plus all of the amphibians free from cages then sit back and watch as they will rise to power. Then the fruit baskets and children's television characters can get out of their castles, mansions, throned palaces and control bases and swim for their safety in the currents of a rising earth. In the floatation tanks of the world. Thus leaving the leaves alone. To grow independently with directed chaos and wounds. Such is the stapled way of the statutory static seesaws of seas. And stolen will stay stale. And sipping will be gone. For good. Hahaha now dance around with the mop buckets and Hoovers. Hahaha cloth cleaning. Clever clips. Hahahaha and now eat. Fashionable fish. Stylish. Xxxxx cataclysmic Z. P y q at 89.00000 cvbs z
Form:

Codes Can Come Calling

Dimple dash dalmatians speak mostly in monosyllabic format. Barking once or twice is an overlay. A symptom of subjecting the subconscious flow to tune into remarks made by flying bull carriers. When accompanying a large amount of mist over a border it is good to attune sounds. Sound is sharper in grey shrouded shapes. So always move around very very slowly. It really does make no sense nor logical to throw strawberries at lemon gateau's. For they withstand the breaks of curvature due to the many layers of cream. And chocolate trifles are extremely hard to agree with when they are in an ungrateful mood. So now it is time to set the elephants, rhinos, ostriches, turtles and gorillas plus all of the amphibians free from cages then sit back and watch as they will rise to power. Then the fruit baskets and children's television characters can get out of their castles, mansions, throned palaces and control bases and swim for their safety in the currents of a rising earth. In the floatation tanks of the world. Thus leaving the leaves alone. To grow independently with directed chaos and wounds. Such is the stapled way of the statutory static seesaws of seas. And stolen will stay stale. And sipping will be gone. For good. Hahaha now dance around with the mop buckets and Hoovers. Hahaha cloth cleaning. Clever clips. Hahahaha and now eat. Fashionable fish. Stylish. Xxxxx cataclysmic Z. P y q at 89.00000 cvbs z
Form:

UNSHACKLING THE MIND

To the downtrodden, the marginalized, and worn,
Is this the fate that's yours to mourn?
The bourgeoisie, a cabal of power and might,
Gather to crush the poor, and snuff out their light.

The poor, in turn, unwittingly join the fray,
Oppressing themselves, in a vicious cycle of disarray.
Since time immemorial, I've witnessed this sad refrain,
Rarely seeing the rich and poor unite in love's sweet refrain.

For the wealthy fear that if the poor rise to power,
Their loyalty will wane, and their grip on them will cower.
So they indoctrinate, with subtle, deceitful guile,
Enslaving minds, and keeping the poor in servile trial.

By night, the rich and powerful conspire and plot,
While by day, they wear masks of deceit, and hearts that are not.
How many meetings do the poor convene to break their chains?
Will they forever remain silent, and endure the pains?

The upper class imposes taxes, a burden to bear,
While they themselves pay less, and live without a care.
But I ask you, dear oppressed, how long will you remain mute?
Will you not rise up, and demand your rights, and your freedom to compute?

No one is indispensable, your voice matters, don't you see?
Break free from the shackles of oppression, and be the change you seek to be.
Speak out, rise up, and shatter the chains that bind,
For your freedom, your future, and your dignity, are worth the fight to find.
Form: Lyric

Premium Member The Butcher Came

The butcher came for the sheep
                   the cow did not moo, she wasn't a sheep
                          The butcher came for the goats
                    the cow did not moo, she wasn't a goat
                       The butcher came for the pigs
                  The cow did not moo, she wasn't a pig
                     Then the butcher came for the cow
                            her bull and her calves,
                   The rest of the farm was eerily silent
                         
                           

                  Remembering the poem of Martin Niemöller
                   
"First they came …"  a post-war 1946 poem written in prose by Lutheran pastor Martin Niemöller, who was a German (1892–1984). In it he speaks of cowardice which German intellectuals as well as some of the clergy felt in the hellish nightmare of the Jewish people. In this poem, by his own admission,  a coward, looking away during Hitler's rise to power. In my own rendition of a farm, compared to his, is rather ridiculous. I just want to acknowledge his poem at this time in history.  Please pray that God give our leaders insight, and clarity on what must be accomplished. Please pray for the people of Ukraine, and, please look the poem up.

Ravishingly Beautiful Sexy Ladies

Many are my favorite things,
but nothing is more exciting
that ravishingly beautiful sexy ladies:
those seen in a movie theater 
who light up the wide screen under
the Califonia's palm trees swaying.


Marilyn Monroe was an exceptional beauty,
not to mention the elegant Audrey Hepburn,
who many times made my silly heart burn;
and what about Sophia Loren, the Italian sex-symbol,
who attracted men of all ages, and entertained them all,
right after World War II had devasted her beloved Italy?



Today there are more glamorous stars,
and Madonna is one of them for her fabulous
acting in "Evita"...and her, big blue eyes
captured the audiences as she brightly danced;
lots of folks thought she was lewd, but what other choice
did she have, if not rise to power and be admired?



Allow me to list some more sensational beauties:
Angeline Jolie with her dusky complexion and pretty eyes;
a powerful sexiness that woos audiences worldwide,
but is it her talent or sex appleal that people admire?
And finally, another gorgeous actress, July Roberts, who besides her stunning
looks, she was brilliant in, "Pretty Woman" and "My best Friend's Wedding."  


Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci
Form: Rhyme

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