Long Russian Poems
Long Russian Poems. Below are the most popular long Russian by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Russian poems by poem length and keyword.
Load the chamber with your love bullet and spin the cylinder and aim the muzzle at my heart see if when you pull the trigger if everything shatters apart
Every time you fall in love, you’re playing a deadly, foolish game where the bullet could be in the chamber or waiting to be played
Will your heart be broken and shattered into a thousand tiny pieces with nothing left but a gaping black hole or will you live another day to love and feel that you’re whole?
Will you be brave enough to play the game or should I say foolish enough? You must be strong and hold your ground when the going gets tough
Look your opponent in the eye and tell them I trust you, please don’t hurt me and leave me battered and bruised
Look down the eye of that barrel and tell yourself I can win you won’t destroy my heart I’ll never be the victim again
Stand up for love and fight to the bitter end wait for the sound of the shot and for the cylinder to be spun again
Only this time you won’t be the one waiting for death to leave it’s mark you can go on living and you can have a fresh start.
This poem is from my book titled Still Here Waiting available for purchase and Kindle on Amazon. My pen name is Amanda Carroll Kinzer
I wake , I stare, I look into your eyes,
And I love everything that I view,
And you tie your hair back, out of the way,
To do that dawn dance that you do
Of moisturising wrinkles, concealing, foundation,
Then, to make you stand out,
Mascara , eyeliner, eye shadow, eye pencil,
Your dance is a facial workout,
Before blushing your cheeks, highlighting your eyes,
And defining the edge of your lip,
Then carefully landscaping your sweet virginal kiss,
With your dark Russian Red colour lipstick.
Finally, you put your hair up and turn to me,
You show me a face that’s brand new,
And I stare through everything into your eyes,
And my eyes say “I love all that is you.”
For Daniel Turner's contest, "The eyes have it"..... 10th July 2017
At first I thought I was mistaken
Do her eyes keep diverting to me
Unsure and a little bit shaken
Taken back by a Russian beauty
I’d watch her walk past my apartment
An exciting, self confident stride
Auburn hair and a smile heaven sent
I knew with her I had to confide
I sat on the porch in the courtyard
Relaxing, taking in the night air
Sneaking up and catching me off guard
My Russian beauty dream girl so fair
Her sitting with me altered my life
I never wanted that night to end
How I met Elizabeth, my wife
My love, my confidant, my best friend
Now, near thirty seven years after
God knew it was time for you to rest
Through all of our tears and our laughter
Life with you Sweetie has been the best
Love you always, Sweetie
...They told us to hate those people
who take a risk to make profit,
that instead we should idolize
those who say they’re socialist.
Bu t I look a their history,
and it’s utterly insane,
just blood, and death, and prison camps
wherever their ideas did rein.
Twenty-five million Russian souls,
sixty-five million Chinese,
and all they brought to those who lived
was oppression and poverty.
Even within our own cities,
where the far-left runs roughshod,
we see feces, typhus, and decay;
once great towns now just left to rot.
Detroit has become a ruin,
San Francisco smells of dung,
Los Angeles covered in trash,
the Golden State has gone all bunk.
That’s what they want me to worship?
It’s a plague that should be abhorred,
besides that, it’s immoral to
have economics based on force.
The capitalist freely trades,
both sides agree or it’s no-go,
price itself becomes a language
so all of the people can know
how much something may be valued,
what is and is not in demand,
giving them a general idea,
so they can make a living, plan.
And the mass of competition
responds to the people’s needs,
does not need to be ‘ordered to,’
it responds automatically.
It’s what lifted civilization,
there’s no arguing with that,
without it we’d still ride horses,
and electricity we’d lack.
Those fools want us to reject this,
when it makes our nation great?
I’ll save my rage for leftists that
dare try to tell me who to hate.
Those judgments are mine alone.
Operation Barbarossa
the panzers start to roll,
Breaking out from Poland’s Baltic,
towards Sevastopol,
Ten million soldiers strong,
go goose-stepping east,
The Fuhrer’s Wehrmacht,
alongside his waffen SS elite.
No margin for error,
nazi Germany’s biggest gamble,
Get this wrong, and under
the red army might get trampled
But no need for worry, as
all before starts to collapse,
Generals believe be over by Autumn
or Christmas perhaps.
Murdering and enslaving millions,
as they overrun,
Reds burn their own cities,
denying shelter for the hun,
Hitlers well oiled machine,
begins to slow right down,
As Stalin moves his factories,
to out of range towns.
Nazis keep attacking,
as only they know how,
But stretched thinly on the ground,
winter has settled in now,
Can see domes of the kremlin,
victory looked so close,
May as well be a world away,
buried deep in Russian snows.
So nothing for it, must dig in
wait for the spring,
Writings on the wall,
offensive over, blunting their sting,
Then comes the counter,
sure as day follows night,
Red army attacks all fronts,
clad in cloaks of white.
The tide starts to turn,
in ruins of Stalingrad,
Germans are surrounded,
uniforms reduced to rags,
No food in their belly’s,
living off dogs and cats,
Paulus the general surrenders,
Throwing Hitler into a spat.
Killing still not over,
lots more bitter fighting to be had,
Stalin sacrifices millions,
in suicidal counterattacks,
Both sides face off daily,
in a mammoth slugging match,
prisoners were not taken
none left alive to catch.
So in the end Nazis crumble,
not beaten by a better army,
Never stood a chance,
once America joined the party,
Russia lost thirty million people,
Stalin did not care less,
Was only one real winner in
WW2 and that was the U.S.
By
David Kavanagh
In WW2 every life and sacrifice counted,
my poem is looking at the wider bigger
picture and is not meant to belittle or
negate any of the other allied nations
involved in the ultimate victory.
You were the man who reached the summit of chess
This was a mammoth task
I appreciate the fact that you played chess without a mask!
Your work ethic is something to admire
As a chess player, you were really on fire
You studied the games and
Understood the names in chess history!
Bobby Fischer
A man of courage
Who sparked a flame with the Russian players
But nothing could stop your purpose!
I filter your ambition and realize
The passion that should be reflected with any talent!
The beauty of the game in the 1972 world chess championship
Showed us that your level of creativity was timed to perfection
You set the scene; at times you were mean but
Your work ethic in chess was unequivocal and
Even though you were vocal about your own country
It does not diminish the impact you had on so many chess players!
Bobby Fischer
A man of courage who
Sparked a flame in life!
Your work ethic in chess will remain as a pathway
To show us what we should do with our own talents!
Mark Frank
Copyright 2022
C|==>
Cicero's tale revives Dionysius
as modern-day leaders bear the old roles
of power play constants plus or minus
the swords of war and wealth hang o'er two souls
C|==>
the lust for power easily beguiles,
pain and pleasure at the pink pagoda,
braless Russian black bear black sea exiles,
club, green tea, cream, and Joe's baking soda.
C|==>
Palace, Putin's Black Sea, Charles, Buckingham,
Xi, down-to-earth, low-key, not White House type,
Putin, opposite, a bit of a ham,
or join Joe's Rose Garden--smoke the peace pipe.
C|==>
The Sword hangs freely without fear below,
Damocles fled fear, what four stays or blow?
C|==>
He’s Putin’s little piggy
that’s what the people say
Caught in Russian kompromat
the good old-fashioned way
His treachery was obvious
for all the world to see
As Putin’s evil smile confirmed
that day in Helsinki
A life of smoke and mirrors
so many he could sway
Lawyers, doctors, broke their oaths
so many chose to play
As businessman, a loser
of this there was no doubt
Until old Vlad came running-in
to help a grifter out
A bank and his accountant
handled the amounts
That ran from Putin’s pipeline
into Donald’s bank accounts
A vessel filled with anger
jealousy and hate
The ugly face of US greed
that’s never, ever sate
Sitting in the snow, I look at the holes in my boots. My toes are frozen solid as I stare at the winter sun that shines against my reddened face. I have no food, no ammunition, I have nothing but death. The air is full of smoke and the horrid stench of decay, even in the dead of winter the smell permeates my nose like fire. Most of my comrades lie lifeless in pools of coagulated blood or have turned to statues of ice. We tried to retreat but the Fuhrer ordered us to fight until the last man. Stalingrad must be taken at all cost, flucht nach vorn! Sadly, the front has become the nail in our coffin. Frost fills my lungs as I hold a dried Edelweiss flower I brought from home in my burning cold hands. I hear the rusty tracks of T-34's in the distance, the shelling grows stronger now. Gazing towards the west, dreaming in crystal blue, I am on the path to great enlightenment beyond human understanding. The Edelweiss I hold blows away in the Russian wind....
Novgorod’s primeval pearl, white circlet of the free
Once lost and forgotten in the Kievan sea
Veiled in millennium old shells, made from wax and birch
Grave of pure souls liberated, cast from the church
Of those forgotten who followed Father Alexandra
Revered soldier of Christ, from the house of Laodicea
Obedient, splitting the world into darkness and light
Dedicated to the Christian faith’s light and plight
“Coveting nothing, leaving villages and kin
O Father Alexandra, please forgive every sin
Defender, save our spirits from the flesh of skin
Evil, death and sin were born before the world we see"
X was their guiding moon, in that Kievan sea