Long Romulus Poems

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


Premium Member Painter's Plight - Dimensionally Dark

I plead indulgence for my ineptitude
  if I seem rude, it's not intentional
You see, my attitude is dimensionally dark...
  a painter's plight as daylight fades to night.
It's been labeled 'a fervid fever of fixation."
A calcified complication from the lack of trust,
  but I refer to it as the hardening of the heart
    as when love has rusted and turned to dust.

The glimmering galaxy is immeasurably immense 
   but I paint the constellations with pretense
    as if Cumulus by day, hide the stars
     just as the she-wolf hid Romulus and Remus.
A myth? Perhaps both are that, but...
  I believe the clouds spill a thousand secrets
   every time malicious Nimbus darkens
     and releases his bothersome burdens.
The torrential tears he wept were secrets not kept.

I find no recompense in Van Gogh's 'Starry Night'
  and wonder, did he seduce the stars without a script
    to capture them shining as light in a lover's eyes?
The only sense I can make of the artist's work
  is to view it thinking a torn canvas is two paintings     
With oils I do not pause to paint over the constellations...
   removing their shine as if they no longer exist
Am I guilty of robbing them of their glory
   or is it their secret stories I wish to preserve?

Heavenly stars, if I've wretchedly wronged you
  by extinguishing the glow of your luminance,
    forgive me for dousing the spark of your flames...
      for I am to blame and shaming myself
        by melting my tears into your sweet fire.
What caustic contempt you must feel for me
  when I fail to conceive the logic of longing.

For my painting I hold disdain as tears must rain
  from the watchful eyes of Andromeda and Orion.
No finger and thumb shall ever frame my canvas
  nor shall it be given a name, except for "Pain"
My head rests against my empty easel 
I tore the painting in half before I could hear
  the swooning moon taking pity on me,
    forgiving me for my lack of trust in forlorn love.
Tonight, I'll watch the sky without moping,
  hoping the Venus in me will welcome the stars
   while looking over the shoulders of Mars.
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.


Regulishus

A. Hatta asked

Q.”...why is the Raven like a writing desk?...”

because 
it’s a.haven 
Artemis 
and not a fowl quill
he said... ah!
x

...

more regulus 
then romulus
and brighter 
then remus
i’d say
but not quite 
so famous
the heart of a lion
called a raven 
shameless

ah! 
but distinctly
i remember
once upon a knight
in a dreamy september
flying embers knotting
quaint surrenders tapping
i nodded into nearly
and almost gently napping
when satin robes rustled
and i awoke wondering

“tis some visitor”
i uttered almost laughing
with and not at
his gentle naughty tapping
pleased
and shyly grinning
in the decor of my room
he was quite inviting

“couldnt find the door
so i came through the floor”

“ive come to remember
and perhaps to forget
that ive read the forgotten
on the ecliptics lip”

then a howling wolf
made a growling sound
but the raven stayed quiet
in the eyes of time
and 32 flights
became 33 rhymes

so do tell a soul
if with sorrows laden
that there is a palm
and a caring maiden
serving fresh
her cups of malt
with talons cut
upon a falcons deck
and even if
raven speaks knot
many have lived
tHere without

a trace
© Izzy Gumbo  Create an image from this poem.
art
Form:

Riddle Me This

Hey A Diddle, Diddle

The Cat has a riddle...

So when the dish ran away with Spoon

What station did little dog craft

giving big dog reason 

to laugh at noon...

"... she works the wire..."



Regulishus!

More Regulus then Romulus

and brighter than Remus

I’d say

but not quite so famous

the heart of a Lion

called a raven shameless

ah but distinctly

I remember

once upon a Knight

in a dreamy September

flying embers knotting

in quaint surrenders tapping...

I nodded into nearly

and almost gently napping

when satin robes rustled

so I awoke to wander

“...It'za visitor...”

I uttered almost laughing

as his gentle naughty clapping

pleased and shyly grinning

in the decor of my room

was quite inviting...

So I asked about the Moon

"...Who, I said, am I..."
© Izzy Gumbo  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

The Hand That Wrote It

On my saddened days
I’m hoping 
That angels might shine
They’ve done 
everything you can do 
To a person in my shoes 
I’m still breathing
Made it home to tell my mother
She can rest her thoughts
this evening
Sunny days 
Appeal to the circumstances 
In my wretched strengths 
Living life’s 
a variable of extenuating odds 
I’m at twenty three percent 
Relaxing in the palms 
of several ghost
Trying to figure my wife
Theses hard times
Which means the most?
If I call for help 
Will anyone respond
I see individuals tattooed 
Declaring gods son
If I can do what I do 
Then who am I
Because of the people 
I was brought to 
I shed tears from my left eye
If angels don’t smile 
Am I doomed to trials
Of lowered eye brows 

Romulus 
and if the seas summon tomorrow
I will again ponder your trust 
for seasons shall follow

He was known as Romulus
And the seas shall swallow tomorrow
The hand of Romulus
And Caesar shall follow

Premium Member Gemini

We're a Gemini
One body, two different sides 
Face remains the same 

We try not to lie
We can have two opinions 
Two sides of same tale

Gemini's are cool 
But they are not mystical 
It's just magic tricks

Now, in Ancient Rome
We're Romulus and Remus
Rome's quite famous twins

Raised on Palentine Hill
According to the legend 
Romulus founded Rome

Gemini's old soul
Gemini's born in the Spring
As the flowers bloom

Here's the range of dates
Gemini's May 21st
Through June 20th

We're adaptable 
Curious and quick-witted
Also, smart and fun

Now, the Libra sign
Gemini gets along with 
Aquarius too

All three are Air Signs 
Ruled by Air Elementals
All full of hot air!

You feelin' lucky?
We're like a coin, heads and tails 
Shall we flip for it?

Now, you must be brave 
Dangerous to flip a coin
With a Gemini 

Now play the Pea Game
Now you see it, now you don't 
Faster than your eye

Which one will you choose 
Shuffling cups 'round the board
Geminis never lose

Now let's play some Darts
Geminis hit the bullseye 
Always every time 

Now let's Roll the Bones
Geminis will roll Sevens
While you roll Snake Eyes

Now let's play Poker
Gemini wins Ace High!
Gemini Joker 

Gemini's Dream
We dream of Electric Sheep
As we fall asleep 

It seems like it seems 
Like others, Gemini's Dream 
Dream within a Dream 

Ask a Gemini
To give you our opinion 
Which one will you choose 

Don't tell Fairy Tales
Don't lie to a Gemini 
We'll see right through you

Better hide yourself 
Geminis have Third Eyes that
See into your mind

Another thing quite cool
Geminis see in your soul
And see what you are

You can't run and hide
Anytime from our Third Eye
It's just not advised

Gemini's Present
Geminis live in the past
The Gemini's Future 

If you need someone,
Gemini's are True-Blue Friends
Will be till the end 

Which is where we are 
At the end of my poem
Gemini Goodbye...

Copyright ©? Jeff W. Watson, August 5, 2026
Form: Haiku


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

Premium Member The Ides of March

*Image of Julius Caesar by QDT.

The Ides of March

Spun spells pummel our Earth ... as a Sun scanned absence swallow,
vacuumed blues taxes light once deemed eternal ... plus righteousness,
escapism from existence ... edges evacuation,

Birth ere the latter days ... ventured the laurels that were Rome,
the incarnation of iniquity ... masquerade innocence,
like clovers and thistles ... lure eyes above the common grass,

Furtherance besought ... midst tossed bone for multi contentment,
parades that paralyze souls ... usurp minds to sweeping abandon,
celebratory hails the seasoned ... emblem of power,

The gods and goddesses' palms of warring pulse ... 'tis peacetime,
nonetheless ... tributes adorn the temples of Mars in abundance,
'tis time of awash hands of mere grimes ... toxic suffers freely,

Citizens housed upon Palatine ... the triumphant hill,
felicitations honorable legions ... protectors of Rome,
promissory constants ... declared Remus per Romulus,

Roman Senate played a chess game ... Caesar kept them in check,
every move was scrutinized ... made vulnerable and powerless,
autocracy trumps democracy ... seeds gangocracy,

Plans are planted within plans ... schemes are shrouded inside schemes,
the beast entrails read ominously ... Spurina forewarns the marked,
timely debts to be paid in full ... matters to be settled,

At the Courts of Pompey ... the assembly awaits for him,
armorless donning senatorial garb ... metals pierce a man,
till mute ... last recalls *haruspex, "Beware the Ides of March".

*Haruspex; reading of omens from the entrails of sacrificed animals. The subject of Shakespeare's title play came from his thorough accounting of Plutarch's writings. 

2022 March 30
*1st Place*
This or That, Vol 11
~~Edward Ibeh: Judged 2022 April 22

*HMS; 14,16,14 syllables per x 8 stanzas
Form: Sijo

The Cycle of Virtue and Corruption, part 2 of 6

Act II: Judgment in the Forum
CHORUS:
O Rome, thou ancient nurse of law and might,
What shadows now do stretch across thy name?
The marble gleams, but virtue lies in dust,
And gold usurps the laurel of the just.
FIRST CITIZEN:
Didst hear the sage? His words were sharp as steel.
He dared to chide the Consul to his face!
SECOND CITIZEN:
Aye, but what good doth wisdom serve the poor,
When coin and cunning rule the Senate’s floor?
THIRD CITIZEN:
Yet truth, though trampled, rises from the grave.
The gods are just, though men be brave but base.
CHORUS:
Behold the tyrant, robed in purple pride,
Who feeds upon the commonwealth’s decay.
He builds his fame on broken oaths and lies,
And calls it glory when the people pay.
FOURTH CITIZEN:
Lucilius speaks as if the gods still care.
But do they hear us in their starry halls?
FIFTH CITIZEN:
They hear, though silent be their judgment now.
The wheel shall turn, and Varro’s house shall fall.
CHORUS:
O Rome, remember Brutus and his blade,
Who struck for freedom, not for selfish gain.
Let not thy soul be sold for silver’s gleam,
Nor let thy laws be writ in blood and shame.
MARCUS LUCILIUS:
Ye sons of Romulus, awake, arise!
The state is not a spoil for greedy hands.
Each citizen must guard the sacred flame,
Lest darkness drown the light of liberty.
CHORUS:
Speak on, good sage, thy voice is like a star
That pierces through the murk of tyranny.
We are not beasts, nor slaves to gilded chains—
We are the heirs of Cato and of Rome!
CHORUS:
So let the tyrant flee, his brow unbowed,
But know the people hath a memory.
And when the hour of reckoning draws nigh,
Let justice rise, and falsehood fall to die.
© Dan Cross  Create an image from this poem.

Where's That Ancient Land...Where Civilization Began?

Where's that ancient land where civilization began?
There...this disconsolate poet was born:
to tell whatever wasn't told on his return,
and to choose his tomb under the shade of a pine;
to be, somehow, comforted by the canary's song,
or the presence of the carnations that, into the warm rain, would shine...  


Find such an amazing land by the deepness of the calm seas,
and the fresh scent of the Alps and Apennines;
foreign Kings governed it by their mighty cities,
and the occupied people never knew it as a united nation,
until it was liberated by a northern, courageous man:
Garibaldi... proudly called the hero of the Two Worlds!


Where's that ancient land where the Imperial Rome rose
on the top of the Seven Hills, where Romulus
was fed by a she-wolf? Legend, you say, but facts
may prove that everything that occurred was true!
O glorious Rome, all that's left  of your greatness...
are crumbling columns ravaged by the storms!    


When we read Vergil's writings and follow him in his travels,
carrying papyrus and ink to write when time allowed him...
we see impressive images of prosperous towns and cities,
and in Baianum he rested a day, then climbed the Mount of the Virgin;
and he gazed upon the lush hills and mountains of the country-side,
and heard the Nolans chanting and wailing when he died!


Where's that  ancient land where civilization began,
and mild seasons adorn it with their vivid colors?
One can't help being lifted-up by a creation so breathtaking: 
that God Himself was surprised in its making;
whenever you go, there are pristine meadows with wild flowers...
something compels the writer and the artist to return! 


Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci
Form: Sestina

The Ham Was Off

After: "Letter of Mithridates to Phraates, King of Parthia"
Historiae VI by Sallust 
*****************************

I am a man more poisoned against than poisoning.
 That’s my version anyhow, and I’m sticking to it.
Don’t blame me for having survived a few meals
Which others, less fortunate, could not.

All that doesn’t help me now with Pompey at my throat.
Pompey, plunderer and bully, who has enough wit
Only to command a Materialschlacht, 
But that is child’s play with Rome’s support.

Rome! Scourge of cities, tribes, peoples, nations, all mankind,
Were not the Pillars of Hercules, the western shores
Sufficient for your ravenous appetite
That your eagle eyes scan my realm?

O Phraates, King of Parthia still unvanquished,
Had you but lent your ear to me when together we
Might have rid the East of this ill-begotten son
Of Mars. Small the credit, so great the loss!

For Rome, unchallenged, bestrides the Great Sea. Eastwards
He surveys my mountains and your rivers, groves and plains,
No doubt beyond. Remember Alexander,
Who sacked glorious Persepolis.

You vainly sue for peace, like credulous Philipp once
When fondly strung along with Rome’s promises of “pax”.
And what of Carthage? Where now her wealth of gold
And purple? Barren her poisoned lands!

Mind you, I’m not well-placed on a high moral pedestal
When it comes to poisoning, but limits I respect.
A few enemies now and then, I admit,
Died at my table. The ham was off!

But the earth is sacrosanct. I never salted fields,
For Rome’s venom is stronger than aught I ever brewed.
Where shall this end? Shall Rome vanquish all nations?
Shall all cower to his bloody sword?

But Rome! With surfeiting the eaten, not the eater,
Prevails. The whole world is, even for iron digestions,
Strong meat. It is the sun, not Romulus, whom
East and West obey. Helios rules.

With Rome to east and Rome to west, then two Romes are there,
And I do fear for man and earth. The approach of death
Lends men insight. I fought, I won, I lost in war.
My spirit is still king. Sirs, your health.

The last round! Like Carthage we lose to Rome the third round.
Once more is the Gordian knot in twain. Quirites,
The gods look down. Remember Alexander,
Who died of fever in Babylon!

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