Long Spector Poems
Long Spector Poems. Below are the most popular long Spector by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spector poems by poem length and keyword.
Hush now, all little children by the shadows of night,
Don’t resist, beware let the sleep take you, be at an uneasy peace,
For resistance is futile against this dream stalker,
Whom travels on the brain waves, of the unconscious mind?
Apparitions Spector, a vaporous wraith living on our inner
Deepest fears, a vampire of nightmares, feasting at the
Edge of panics scream, hidden is he beneath the layers
Of our worst horrific night terrors.
Comprehensions undetectable intruder, a burglar forcing
Entry by the elliptical moons anti rational sliding door,
A corporeal beast, thriving on the adrenaline rush,
Of the flight or freight, factors throbbing heart beat!
He this untouchable, whom slides his icy fingertips down
The backs of humanity, causing the fine hairs our necks
To rise and flair, a tip toeing sadist walking the delicate
Tightrope of our thin vail of dreams, than striking at us
With dreads demonic weapon, as we the innocent
Victim slumbers in depths deepest REM sleep.
Oh is he not the bogeyman's sandman, with his dark
Seeded bag of mischievous tricks, cast over his silhouetted
Shoulder, sneaking in the hallowed shadows of the nights
Blackened embrace.
An invisible phosphorus troll, existing without form or mass,
Slithering as a nocturnal snake, hunting the stilled warm
Embodied essence of humanity while we sleep,
And laughing at us this vaporous jackal, while we
Choke on his black nightmarish moon dust of death.
Pray faithful child beneath the illusions of the lit divide,
For guardians protection while thy rest,
So you may awaken in the warming breath. of
The next morning’s sunrise, for at night the
Demon of nightmares stalks for the hearts of the
Innocence and he takes no prisoners.
Now some may say that this mythical legend is
Just a story to scare little children, to make them
Go to sleep at night without a fight.
But others know the real truth about this
Spirit beast of olden times, these the watchers
Of dreams, and they say beware the sandman,
For he is always waiting, aware, lying in the
Blackness abyss of mankind's nightmares.
A child's pray,
Now I lain me down to sleep,
I pray the lord my soul to keep,
For if I shall die before I wake,
I wish the lord my soul to keep,
And not the sandman to take!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
August is ending with a heat that gives no mercy to the land or man
so intense that the air swelters off the river into the tree tops,
looking ahead, its as if we are passing through the gossamer of summer's spector,
Private Shanon has been missing for six days
although, we believe he is lost, not captured or deserted
only God knows where his feet have taken him,
evidence along the riverbank indicates that he is alive and pursuing us
perhaps mistaken and disoriented, thinking that we are further up river,
Old Dorion is seeking him now like a clever wolf,
Shanon was seperated from me while stalking a coyote
a most mischievous animal that is entirely foriegn to us except in prank,
a bottle of whiskey goes to the first man who can lay a coyote down,
yesterday half of the expedition went hunting the prarie dog
a critter more cunning than a cat and jumpy as a log spark,
after several hours of scrambling around like lunatics
Private Sheilds has finally caught one with pork bait and a twig basket
the poor rascal squieks like a cheap violin,
eventually I will send it to Washington with other novel specimens,
President Jefferson and the Philosophical Society will be good guardians,
the men and I have been refreshing ourselves on the jewels of soil
the wild grapes are so succulent that the Italians would believe
Bacchus himself had seeded this earth with a secret serum
and the plum groves cuddled in the most unadulterated coves
invite the mind into Eden's shadow,
on this journey we have observed migrations of pigeons
that have rivaled the stretch of storm clouds,
crowds of squirrels so numerous they have canvassed the ground with a sea of fur,
and now the mighty, mythical buffalo walks before us
a legend amongst beasts, monstrous in girth
with hooves that peel the Plains and horns shaped by vengeance,
as they graze we seize the prize of their offering with thanks in our aim,
not having horses strategic concealment is critical, they are reknown for retaliation,
we dropped seven of them in a great pandemonium of panic
the gun smoke, field dust and perspiration meld into a fragrance of sacrifice,
our sustenance is secured, their lives feed our future,
J.A.B.
My hands are clammy
as I try to unlock Uncle Nick's door,
he left me the imposing house
high on the hill as his heir,
the Victorian structure is gloomy,
and probably full of ghosts,
who will wake me up to be bold,
dusty sheets cover the furniture
adding to the spector-like decor.
A mouse runs across the floor,
squeaking at my human intrusion,
I am an unwanted guest at its home,
slowly I walk up the creaking stairs,
being watched by something unknown,
a portrait of a man hangs at the landing,
I stare at it and the eyes blink back,
one of Uncle's Hollywood collection of props,
an avid connoisseur of movie memorabilia.
At the end of the carpeted and wallpapered hall,
a door is open as if an invitation to come in,
it is the master bedroom because of its size,
antique lace curtains hang at a corner window,
covering the scene below of a rose garden,
the canopied bed of fluffy pillows is inviting,
collapsing from fatigue of a long trip,
I fall asleep into a deep sleep dreaming away,
all the while smelling a lavender scent.
Hours later I wake up in a dark and dank cellar,
tied up and a gag across my mouth,
wanting to scream but cannot as I notice
an elderly woman smelling of lavender and
a middle-aged man holding a bat before me,
I recognized them at the reading of the will,
it is Uncle's housekeeper and her son,
an ultimatum is made by both of them,
if I didn't give them the house I would be killed,
My life is more important than the old house,
I made the decision to sign off the paperwork,
untying me they let me go as I quickly drove off,
leaving behind a legacy which I couldn't enjoy,
arriving at my humble home miles away,
I turned the news on and heard to my surprise
that my Uncle's house was hit by lightning
the other night and burned to the ground,
someone definitely is watching over me.
May 15, 2020
Form:
Life is like being a passenger on a luxury ocean liner
That is sails across a Sea of Turmoil.
Passengers feel safe by putting their faith in the sturdy construction of the ship’s steel hull.
Their senses are enveloped by the beautiful gold, silver, brass, wood that accents the interior of the ship.
There is a Spector who‘s heart is dark as black satin and as cold as an iceberg.
Who is rarely seen by the human eye, for he stealthily move under the cloak of night,
And dwells in the shadows by day.
His nature is deception and violence
His power are death and decay
He Rome’s and back and forth on the sea of Turmoil, stalking luxury ocean liners.
Sometimes He will play cat and mouse games by enoying the passenger slowly picking their ship apart with rust and rot.
Other times he will crush a ship with a title wave,
Or blow a ship apart by an onboard fire.
The Spector evilly snicker when the survivor have to abandon ship and try to tread water.
The passenger try to cling on to their strange Theologies and Philosophies to keep themselves afloat.
The Spector stirs the sea of Turmoil with his crooked finger to create great tempest to try and drowned his victims to transport them to the lake of Fire that lay beneath the Sea of Turmoil.
The passenger’s desperate out cries for help reach the ears of The King of Light.
He send His Son by His swiftest ship
To rescue anyone who will receive their help.
The Son will transport His passengers to the shores of His father’s kingdom
Where they will be made heirs with the Son.
They will dwell in the eternal golden city of The King of Light.
The King of light will forever remove the Spector of Darkness and His domain the Sea of Turmoil.
Writen by Stephen J. Vattimo
July 12, 2016
We Don’t Always Get Up
Born my son
of youth,
My pride
shadowed you,
Our long talks
sitting under the stars,
Your wisdom
learning astounding.
You followed me,
To the sky,
Your letters,
soothed ego,
in uniform you came,
healthy and strong.
Randomness comes, without warning,
Often Chaos follows, tragedy forms,
Every rising sun, in it may hide,
Limping up my path,
Gunshot one leg,,
You a ghost decimated by meth,
My heart bled, my love insane,
weak, sick, meths demon chained,
Drug withdrawal, horror for all,
Detoxing , then rehab came,
Daily classes, groups and counseling,
Fell on meths ears and a mind so distant,
A likewise cursed wife, two little girls came,,
Wasn’t long Meth summoned you back,
she had a grimy fist grasping your soul,
girls gone, family a Spector of the haze,
Abandoning goodness, for Satans crumbs,
,
As we watched you implode,
only love remained,
Your Wife descended down,
and little daughters, had a new mother,
You reached for a rope, many times,
But the demons inside could not hold,
Our pain ebbed and flowed,
The tidal shift’s,
drifted all out to sea, but love,
Soon the rising waters, highest of hopes,
All was well, no horizon darkness,,
I prayed, cried, maybe sooner should I,
Randomness and Chaos checked our faith,
We each fell like dominos, sheep off a cliff,
No hope, no faith, nor love I could taste,
My heart was stone, heavy and throbbing,
My son of youth, I can no longer shadow you,
I could only place you in a velvet box, hidden,
Yet Chaos and Randomness, the true gods of man,
is a two edged sword....something can come from naught,
I weep,
By James Kirk-Wiggins (c) January 2020, All rights reserved
The unique character of the Marvel comic
Manifested in the multiple alters of Mark Spector
An American mercenary becomes Moon Knight
The avatar of the Egyptian moon god, Khonshu.
When the earth is threatened by destructive forces
Khonshu makes Mark to wake up in his grave
Who gets a vision of being assigned the task
To resume his life as the defender of the moon.
For the protection of the endangered earth
Khonshu transfers his power to Moon Knight
Who increases fighting acumen and mental strength
Acquiring the power of the Iron Fist.
After the statue of Khonshu apparently explodes
Bringing Mark to life through resurrection
Who suffering from dissociative identity disorder
Sees the statue getting fully repaired.
Khonshu pleads for the safety of Mark’s life
When he is about to be killed by Daredevil
Who ultimately agrees to set Moon Knight free
For he finds there the appearance of the moon god.
Mark considers Khonshu not worthy of worship
But believing to be spiritually linked with him
He creates religious Midnight Mission to help people
Following the teachings of Khonshu, the moon god.
______________
October 29, 2022
Contest : Moon Knight Friend Or Foe
Sponsored by : Robert James Liguori
In the Marvel comic, the unique character,
represented by myriad of persona of superhero Mark Spector,
an American mercenary who turns into Moon Knight,
the avatar of the Egyptian moon God, Khonshu.
When the earth is threatened by the destructive forces,
Khonshu makes Mark to wake up in his grave,
and get the mental message of being assigned the task
by resuming life for the duty as the defender of the moon.
For the protection of the endangered earth,
Khonshu transmits his power to Moon Knight,
who enhances the fighting dexterity and mental might
by acquiring the potent strength of the Iron Fist.
After the statue of Khonshu seems to have exploded,
the force brings Mark back to life through resurrection.
He suffers from delusive dissociative identity disorder,
and finds the statue getting fully repaired and reinstalled.
Khonshu pleads for the safety of Moon Knight’s life
when he is about to be killed by Daredevil,
who ultimately agrees to set him free,
for he finds him transformed into the moon God.
_______________
March, 23, 2023
Contest : Marvel Superheroes Supervillains and Superanimals
Sponsored by : Robert James Liguori
In the Marvel comic, the unique character,
represented by myriad of persona of superhero Mark Spector,
an American mercenary who turns into Moon Knight,
the avatar of the Egyptian moon God, Khonshu.
When the earth is threatened by the destructive forces,
Khonshu makes Mark to wake up in his grave,
and get the mental message of being assigned the task
by resuming life as the defender of the moon.
For the protection of the endangered earth,
Khonshu transmits his power to Moon Knight,
who enhances the fighting dexterity and mental might
by acquiring the potent strength of the Iron Fist.
After the statue of Khonshu seems to have exploded,
its force brings Mark back to life through resurrection.
He suffers from delusive dissociative identity disorder,
and finds the statue getting fully repaired and reinstalled.
Khonshu pleads for the safety of Moon Knight’s life
when he is about to be killed by Daredevil,
who ultimately agrees to set him free,
for he finds him transformed into the moon God.
_______________
March, 22, 2023
Contest : Marvel Superheroes Supervillains and Superanimals
Sponsored by : Robert James Liguori
MOON KNIGHT
Marc Spector! Superhero!
Strong protagonist Moon Knight,
enhances energy- strength
on bright shiny Full Moon night.
Prophetic visions and dreams!
Benevolent, also bright.
Supernatural power:
Well connected with Moonlight.
Olympic level athlete !
Eyes glow glitter glisten white.
Wonderful warrior
marvels and competes to fight.
Drawing courage from Moon God
turns capable to show might.
Blessed by Great Moon God Khonsu,
whose guidance Moon Knight to pursue.
10/17/22
Seventh place in premier Contest
Moon Knight
Contest by Robert James Liguori
Marvel Super Hero or Super Villain
First Place
Contest by Robert James Liguori
The darkness in my life Hides buried in my soul.
A smell or a sound brings it to life
Never knowing how much strife it causes me.
It steals my conscious thought and replaces it with a mist shrouded dream of the past.
One that is not friendly nor my friend.
It taunts and teases me with visions of events never laid to rest
I have tried to make friends with them, but they remain a Spector elusive and unwilling
I have considered the eyes of the dead and saw no peace there only fear
So far away and yet so close is the torment.
“They” say these things will pass but “they” don’t know the passages of my mind
The dark dank closets of the shades that haunt me that dwell within me
To look on the outside I seem fine, respectable maybe even peaceful
But the inside is anything but.
I have sought the counsel of others and received only platitudes
Only in the throngs of my brothers and sisters can I find comfort
And lay to rest this affliction.