Long Samurai Poems
Long Samurai Poems. Below are the most popular long Samurai by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Samurai poems by poem length and keyword.
“You don't lose if you get knocked down; you lose if you stay down.” Muhammad Ali
I've been struggling to exist,
since the day I was born.
A dehydrated butterfly
in a garden without rain.
A white page, an inkless quill,
a silent poet without words.
But when eyes feel fuzzy,
head a little dizzy,
and the pills don't work,
we fight the confusion like a
gladiator without a sword.
a knight without a shield.
Every time we get a bit of respite,
it's time for another fight.
Sometimes like an old boxer,
we get knocked to the ground,
but like a fledgling I resurface.
What other choice do I have?
I'm no mercenary,
no militant, no martyr.
I'm a wounded samurai
under a cherry blossom tree,
bloodshed blade by my side.
I drink pain like a glass of water,
embrace agony like a lover,
suffocate sorrow until it's over.
Pain is a reflection of my existence,
my wounds a reluctant legacy,
written from massacres of warfare -
but there is no purpose without struggle.
I always keep hope for tomorrow,
but live for today.
Life is an advent of adversity,
we win, we lose, we learn.
We are all warriors,
as life is one constant conflict.
We are forever fighters.
My sweetheart said to me: let's fantasize, let's make sweet love ... Let's escape to a pink house: I go first lady and you come in uniform ... Let's escape to a brown room: you come from chocolate and I come only lipstick .... Let's escape to a little house in the forest: you bring your paraphernalia, and I offer myself in celebration ... Let's run away to make love as in the east is done, .. I do geisha paper and you do the samurai ... Let's make love like in the cabaret: let's do it aside, from the front do you want ...!? Let's make love like they do in the nest: I give you my little bird and you give me yours .... Let's make love like if the world is running out: make love all day long until one of us comes crashing down. ..! And I can say it was really cool. and we're going to make us fantasize again like a carnival ...!
Let's make love.
before we end
love in every way and quality
love like crooked, straight, right
love like this and even really ...
big love never bit
love like delicious food
and nothing of not giving soon the change
love to start in a year
and to end well in the other ...
Starting in a century
to end IN the millennium
to start at the beginning
and never ending...
Without time and without age
as was eternity ...
Let's make love, let's love ... until this time is over.
and another time will soon start ..
Many times the ocean
has saved Nippon, pearl of the sea,
an oceanic symbiosis a speck in a fecund see.
The dikes of man such miniscule plans to hold back the tide.
The throngs, each and all crawl across the thin skin of volcanic soil
or rise with in the hump-backed alps of remnant cones.
Yet, the sea rises to reclaim its own
scour the pallet of man, refine, burnish melt, reform.
With pen and sword kanji drawn, samurai born
with knife and bone entrails torn, honor tested
tested by the hand of He,
tested and found worthy.
The children of the Divine Wind
rise above the tsunami, as one, unbowed.
the following quite quirky epistle may not exhibit the ordinary characteristics of poetry, but i decided to share this self made challenge (where every word begins with the letter "S" - no explanation can be offered why such self cerebral torture imposed, nor what motivated me to focus on the nineteenth letter of the english alphabet at the exclusion of other noble vowels and consonants.
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Sunday September seventh started seemingly same since...silver screen show secured seventy seven SeventhSeals.
Soupy Sales supreme salient strengths (starring smart pet sidekick Springer Spaniel Socrates) salvaged sagging sporting sorties. Slap stick stereotypical swashbuckling shticks supplied shipshape shenanigans.
Spartan stage set spurred spontaneous simply stupefying solution. Suede shod schlemiel. Sartre seasoned scenes. Sharp sticks supported sphere. Seats situated semicircular semblance.
SPCA, Siemens, Sears sponsored soiree. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious shouted satirically 'specially Saturdays seemingly sellout. Spontaneous spritely Shogun Samurai sangroid stance satiated slipups stripping stellar seasoned Skidamarinks substitutes sacredly, seminally, silently, slipstreaming soulfully saving saga.
Sometimes silly spouse studiously sought spurious strategy stringing superlatives showcasing senseless sophomoric soporific skills specifically spelling storybook sassy sharpshooters supposedly sleuthing shapeless seated sideways (sic seasonal slate smug spotified snapchatting skippers selfishly scooped sloop-ful seasonal six-packs) sinister Swiss scalpers sat sometimes squatted.
As the morning breeze springing sprightful fragrance
Stolen cleverly when he kissed the soft colourful petals
I woke up into a new fresh delightful daylight
To taste once more my honeyed life and my blossoming day.
From my flat laying lazily at level six
I was contented to watch the sunrise
He rose with all his fervor and might
And I wished him a happy day out.
The sighing wind called me to look down the streets
Where I saw people in masks treading hastily
Like ants rushing here and there in hurry
Never they wish nor smile to any other faces.
Stand alone in bunches they waited for their turn
In buses or cars which ever halted to pick
Like strange samurai soldiers flying to a war zone
Never they wish nor smile to any other faces.
Fearful glances and rushing little steps
Even the whisking dresses frightfully heard as sneezes
My heart cried and burned seeing those pity stances
Oh, dear little creatures, stop your playful bounces.
The mighty human race moving towards a comess
When like weird aliens, Covid trying to invade
But tomorrow we will rise from our burning ashes
To tame you and make you a story for our coming cradles.
Third Place in N-A re-run 7 Poetry Contest sponsored by John Hamilton
As the blade leaves the scabbard
As light hits the virgin steel
The emotions well up inside me
And i begin to feel
i feel the lust of battle
as the katana slices through
through skin and bone and even souls
im no longer even thinking
all thought process lost
The sword has taken over
All emotion gone
Parrying and slashing to the swords sweet song
It sounds just like a mountain wind
As it sweeps the valley floor
And glistens like a lagoon
On an islands summer shore
So just as fast as it began
It stops so suddenly
As i wipe the blade with my fingers
To remove the crimson blood
as i push the blade into the scabbard
To send him safely home
That is the final note of the ancient samurai song
Form:
Packed like sardines in a subway train
a scream and then the samurai sword swings
no escape it's a scene from some sort of sick film
death came from suburbia today
every single soul prayed he didn't know their name
mad man or martyr if it's you slain its all the same
only the sound of screeching breaks, drowns out the screams
no god, he slipped away to see who had died of starvation today
in the distance sirens sound as salvation makes its way
under strip lights peoples souls have slipped away
make the voices speaking to me go silent now , I'm spent, done.
Pandemonium comp entry 05/08/2016
With the turkey out of the way
It's time to do some shop and save
Black Friday...here we go again
I am up at three o'clock
So I'll be at the door on the dot
Shopping like a mad whirlwind
Pulling up to Walmart
Grab myself a fresh shopping cart
For when the doors open up at five
Like a horse out of the gate
Your own fault for being in my way
Just count your blessings that you're still alive
Beat the crowds straight to the back
For a little snatch and grab
Gotta have the newest wide screen T.V.
Blue hair had my T.V. in her cart
Took her out with a karate chop
Sorry granny it's either you or me
Next set my sights on this kid
With no clue of what he did
Or how he ended splayed out on the floor
In the remote car shopping isle
And it may take that kid awhile
To remember who, what, when, or what for
I next wildly veer off to the right
For that set of Ginsu knives
That I use to hold back the forming crowd
With it being the only set left
I Samurai it over my head
Which quickly clears out the entire Ginsu isle
With my shopping about done
I sweep shelves into my cart on the run
Figure I can sort it all out later
At times it's hard to pick and choose
With the attitude of I hate to lose
Anyways I figure they owe me for all my labor
When I get to the front of the store
There's bookoo bunches of crowds galore
I've never seen such a long drawn out line
So I clear the path in front of me
Taking people off at the knees
They'll surely think twice the next time
Before getting in my way
And my day of shop and save
Already planning for next year my friend
Satisfied I head for the door
But I tell you not before
I turn and say Happy Holidays and Good Will Towards Men!
Cause that's just the way I am...
I witnessed gang fights before
But not as violent as this to the core
Students from different public schools
Looking at them like mad men and fools
They carried guns, knives or even samurai
Ready to fight don’t care if they die
The rage they felt in their hearts
Are growing in their mind from the very start
They don’t care if people will get hurt
Poor parents thinking their sons are very smart
Go to school every day and study very hard
Just realized if they receive calls from the police
Their sons are in jail asking for a release
January 2013
Going home late afternoon while riding in a bus full of students that are so noisy, after 5 minutes they looked outside to see their enemy so they force themselves to go out and since I am near the door, I am so terrified for they show their weapons and run, after 2 mins I heard a gunshot..what do you think happen to them? some of the passengers inside the bus, just make faced or show no feeling at all. Even the bus driver..they just keep quite. What a terrible day. whew!!!
For Nathan's Contest
Honorable Mention
Your pale face seen through a glass
of Rosea, lips painted,
gashed scarlet by the dumbstruck songs
of your blood.
Your eyes are a cosmic darkness
yet as bright as Samurai swords,
blades that piece both my mind
and yours.
We were discussing erotica,
how freeing it was to be bound,
how the flimsy drapes of black on white
or white on black can make the skin glow
like the soul of a virgin.
Such choreographed passions
should be a dance upon a slow fuse,
for the flash of the fire itself
is but a brief sun-flare,
and quickly
leads to meaningless words of love,
or the gagged silence of separation.