Long Triumph Poems
Long Triumph Poems. Below are the most popular long Triumph by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Triumph poems by poem length and keyword.
Nero the god! I had a dream.
There I was at the foot of Mount Olympus.
Mother was with me as usual.
As we reached a cross-roads, Agrippina said:
"Come Nero, here we turn left" But I said:
"No, mama, 'WE' do not. I'm gonna turn right!"
And that's what I did. She shouted after me:
"Become emperor, Nero, though you slay me".
The path led upwards toward the snowy heights,
past the lush vernal pastures of the lower slopes,
past vineyards and groves of olive trees,
through forests of oaks, birches,
willows, elms, yews and poplars and all holy trees,
past the crags where the chamois chewed stunted grass,
and the last brave wind-blasted pine
tossed and raged in defiance of the elements, I ascended,
till there was no other thing under heaven
but burning, blinding snow,
a conflagration no less fierce than that which now I see.
I looked down at the world of men,
and what should I see but -- ants!
The air was thin and pure - then the prize!
The summit appeared from behind a cloud-rift.
Treacherous thoughts welled up from within me:
"High climbers play with death –
death by freezing, death that lurks
in the shadow of a measureless abyss.
Was I not trespassing on holy ground? ‘
“Remember Icarus, remember Prometheus,"
sighed voices in the wind,
but then a louder voice from within me
bade me fear no counsel fit for the craven.
And so to the summit.
And what should I see when reached the Olympian heights,’
other than .....fierce Jupiter? Mighty Zeus?
I'll tell you what I saw!
There seated on an ivory throne, a frail old man,
whose long white beard fluttered in the wind.
His expression was more torpor than aught else.
That was it! He looked rather like...
some doddering old patriarch
that was Consul before Caesar's time.
As I approached, he tried to look grave and austere,
pathetically shaking his hoary senile head.
His trembling hand reached down –
I saw a quiver full of arrows
and a pile of thunderbolts at his side.’[
Now was my chance!
I seized him by the scruff of the neck,
and flung him down the mountain-side.
The last I saw of him was as he reeled
head over heels into a ravine.
Then I shouted in triumph to the four winds.
"THE OLD GOD IS DEAD.
Now I'm Top Dog. I got de thunderbolts".
Only a dream?
Perhaps. Dreams pass,
but not what they portend.
Enea Gets the Red Hat
Finally, he's getting somewhere.
Fifty years of age and almost crippled,
prematurely aged, but at last,
sweet recognition rains down
on the poet. Kneeling before Calixtus,
he accepts the Cardinal's hat.
Fancy that.
With every triumph, we're swept nearer Hell.
Each anthem that we sing's a kind of knell.
No matter what we get, or grab, or gain,
we're human, and our lot is death and pain.
Both Frederick and Ladislas
had to do a lot of lobbying
(Calixtus was a Borgia, after all:
and family is family.) Por fin,
esta elevado. Behold the scene.
Frederick with his back to us
and Ladislas holding on to him
(shouldn't that be the other way round?)
deserve their pride of place.
The seething swell of humans
swirls around the little altar,
but can't budge it.
The clear-cut marble doesn't give.
What is the painter telling us?
Men move, and flow, and live, and go,
but soon or later, their
energy is spent?
The Church is permanent?
Regard the four main players,
the upper crust of Mankind's many layers,
yet each one a loser clone.
Calixtus took the throne
already old, and singing one stale tune
(and that, corrupt!)
He didn't use a long spoon
when he supped.
There's Frederick, the Emperor,
a joke. Bullied by his minions,
unhappy, hapless, broke.
And Ladislas, a king without a kingdom,
a cock without a crest,
he's Frederick's long-term guest
(another kind of jest).
A prisoner -- or let's say, at home,
he and Frederick make a palindrome:
august additions to this Pleasure Dome.
Enea: worn out, homesick, ill.
Surviving now on sheer will.
Is that Nature's tonsure, or Man's?
He's kept alive by feverish plans
to mount a Great Crusade --
but we all know it won't be made.
Two rigid windows and an altarpiece.
The Trinity? (The painting is the Holy Ghost.)
Or are those plain, framed panes
the Empire and the Papacy?
You think we're reading too much in?
We point you to one subtle artist's touch.
The youth, right-centre, in the azure cloak,
who's smirking at some "only-I-know" joke:
head cocked, as if he's watching all, askance:
he finds the dainty, double-dealing dance
amusing. Isn't he Rafael?
Hatted like some crimson Cardinal,
he's watching how they rise up, how they fall.
He's waiting, calmly, to inherit all.
“The only light from a sword have sheltered me from despair
The balance of reality and dreams, welcomes nothing to compare
Dreams were afterall the insanity of one’s desire
Made to believe moments before the awakening hour
This belongs the true origin since the fall of the humans
The curse brought from our love to cause The Ancients total domination
Moments since loved, to love to then unlove
I give to you only truth afar from lies to serve”
{Years of yore, a time somewhence atween the Holy War
A prophecy is soon to begin its outcry once more
Humanities who were forged to serve the Battalion Goddess were dying away
Prayers in blood were dis-spirited souls praying to live another day
Yet despairs to the Heavens never seem to be heard
Where forth the Battalion Goddess, where is the Goddess of Word?
The Goddess who mortals seek hope in, bears one in many prophecies
The one to lead till the end of war, to rid the Ancients of miseries
However, the DarkLord Alkzadrius, only grew ever stronger each dusk
Every other night to those who live, only promises to be last
There was then this one night, in the ruins throughout The Ancients
A brightest of light shone from a seemingly farthest of distance
Two figures emerge from beyond, one a woman and another a man
And the very might of the moment itself, have had evil dissolving into the sands
Every other minions who came in their way were vanquish
Even spells and curses cast upon the terrain had discreetly vanish
Sensing victory for the night, mortals around raise their swords and fought
Yet the battle were already won at hearts without so much a thought!
It was raining a subtle when dawn finally arrive
That day, every mortal to witness the birth had survive
Humanities rejoice in triumph to the Champions of the lands
Peace being the one hope for all time, was only just a matter of when
The prophecy remains to be true… prayers were heard
Evermore so, mortals reunited to serve once more the Goddess of Word
Every battle were won, wherever the Champions of the Word were to walk
In time, they were feared by most every minions of the Darklord
Alkaiya, the name enchanted by the people for the mistress of War
Being the one who beholds the Bow of the Word hence fore
And the Knight of the Word who has without a bearing name
Who wield the Sword of Sin where evil is nay to remain}
love the grey in a lazy day bridge the gap in my dreams through twisted schemes
filter through the notion of belonging mark the longing get a following
we are in this til the end my faithful friend with whom I can depend
inside I have rollercoaster emotions with the ups & downs
take a walk on the beach try to catch that frisbee way out of reach
love the longing of belonging there's a yearning hearts are turning
take a shower in the hour of power nestled in a memory come to sit next to me
Each man chooses their own destiny call it magical chemistry from when you were a memory
Rise to the occasion with soaring hearts as in some decorated mast to impart
love is basking in the jewels of renewal carry on with a song in your heart
love is the mere tenderness of the given moment from a sought after vintage smile
comfort me to the conclaves of lasting love soon you will discover a heart to unfold
many are living in mere fantasy basking in the leaves or newly fallen snow
hearts would unfold some time a go the notion of surrender
Come with me to the sea of tranquility lost in a dream feel the breeze
Tea leaves with Leonard Cohen singing basking in the vast expanse between time & space
Surrender to the moment with cadence as its following and deep heart belonging
the tender moments of belonging soaring like an eagles to parts unknown
Caress the bossom of softened decorum as we choose to be healed
the day is fast approaching and the night is far too spent
to quiver in the moment let the temporal vanish capture the longing
I sit alone above to dew left to groom a brand new view in what is left to do
give me a smile your support and your fantasies let them flourish let them unfold
Hear each passing wave rise to the occasion with the real remnants of nature
To equate laughter with forgiveness give pause to think being in the moment
one touch and one will rise with triumph in their eyes
The ability to let go and let God take over feelings to recapture prepared for the great here after...
arm me with harmony filtered through a dream give pause to breathe
Achieve your dreams to light the way of forgiveness the mere wanting to let go
Be compassionate when you learn to focus on your goals in which to unfold
like Stevie Wonder singing at your funeral learn role reversal
Choose to let go & let God each & every passing day
Tell all the worlds about the treasures found
Renaissance trace spellbound in the ancient form,
Tender and haunting; an era of time curves around
Past the present to a future beset with tech charm.
Historical pages cling romantically to our eyes,
Each epoch defines a sparkling gem of surprise,
Their fluttered rebirth is like stars changing sizes
Release by time flown from the damp demise.
That dip their limbs to bow unto gloss modernity
Like the artist and sculpture, they paint a world.
Of aesthetic peculiarities and lofty discovery,
Longing to find a place soaring free in the soul.
A vault of citadels says much; then said no more
Deep within, ancient wonders rise from the ashes
Talented beauty weaves from centuries we adore,
The time and place asleep in a waste wilderness.
The plague of colors survives in medieval triumph,
England, a literary monument of architect literature.
Finds the noble heart to express cherished breath
Creating the etiquette claimed by French culture.
Such dept alone could not be paid by metamorphism
Humanism fading in a mist has its place in society,
Heightened with extreme lust and erotic mannerism,
Italy removes the conscious veil from bizarre reality.
Ceiling significant through music strings serenade,
Renaissance dazed; allusion lay dreaming half awake
The inquisition of fate went on pilgrimage made,
German sentence commute through the classical gate.
The Netherlands explore and navigate all the distances
Byzantine adherence goes beyond impregnable walls,
depict faces of the Tsars persist in the military hypothesis,
And labyrinths take refuge in Russian banqueting halls.
The richest measured proportion of distilled beverage,
Vodka values more than all the dull limited senses,
Spanish religion repository of the myths and rage
Set the path where new western experience commences.
Portugal selfie, the pinnacle piece that thirsts for commerce
Lisbon flourished paints and medicines with Flemish.
Poland concept and conflict gain border land dominance,
Spice trade rises high and makes indiscreet allusion flourish.
We travel far beyond renaissance to the greatest monument,
When the transition of culture from the middle age evolved
Mesmerized art is a rediscovery of an enduring cultural movement,
The monarch of the Roman Empire renaissance man inspired.
~What Make A Best Friends~
Best friends are hard to find
Just like among the lovely stars at night we’ve to pick the best one
A priceless gem of God’s Loving Divine.
I finally found you Linda (aka pd)...
My heart is in triumph
My desolation is gone
You’re not only like a star, but my rising sun
Someone who tenaciously raises me up when I’m down.
When a shroud of gloom hangs over me,
You cheer me up
Whether you are far or near
Your listening ears give me a breath of wind.
You offer the loveliest rose in your garden
Smile…. Laugh and cry with me
One of those who anchors to the fulfillment of my dream
Hone-in-on to a friend’s sake
Offers a mighty shoulder to lean on
Or to stand to see further. --From: L.G.
-A dearest sis, from heaven send-
I share my muse, with your beating friendship
Never would I force you to answer or say something
When I'm hurt or crying, or feel like my life is over
Just knowing you are there listening, brings comfort--
--Whether you are near or far
I know you will be there caring in every step of the way
In you I see a woman who highly respects herself
A beautiful person who goes a long way, making others feel the light
I would never trade you for someone who can't prance and dance like you
Your best quality, comes from being yourself no matter who's around
This is how I know, you have the perfect ingredients
Of what makes a special best friend
So, fun, unique and interesting, Leonora you are so sweet
You understand, with support, you carry a soul of trust and beauty
You were there through my good times and bad
A positive shoulder to cry on
Without casting judgment on the things I've done,
I smile with glee, enjoying your sincerity
Leonora, my BFF, I hope you don't mind that I gave my secret away
The perfect ingredients, of what makes a best friend. --By: P.D.
Jan. 10-17,2014
- collaboration poem of Linda/PD and Leonora
~ It’s again my great honor to have been invited to collaborate with my most all time favourite, my greatest poet, loving poet sis and forever BFF, PD/ Linda. She's a very special poet sis & friend/BFF of mine . I’m in tears of joy to know that I’m also special to her. Word’s are inadequate to thank you enough for everything my dearest sis! My biggest & loveliest hugs ever to u! Lovem4evr sis & BFF Leo
It was the kind of day you step in front of traffic, then dare fate to fold you up in newspaper headlines.
Oh dreams came true alright, but you should have dreamed about not being a foolhardy dreamer; who can know these things. Maybe better instincts the next go-round.
Your mind is an ashtray full of stumped out intentions, it’s overflowing and starting to look like a barrel cactus. And you’re in just the right kind of mood, to burn another one down.
Your eyes slowly break open and realize how much you look forward to that double shot of communal antacid and how much you dread pouring yourself out onto the sidewalk for your morning bath in bright light. Today the dream is for a life lived in black and white.
Some days are better than others, but this one is exceptional. If overwhelmed and heartbroken had a love child, it would have been born at 6:30 this morning when you tore through a placenta of bed sheets.
But lust is on the menu today. It rarely doesn’t cause more problems, but having a little fun is not nothing. And it’s always easier to rally when excitement lies ahead. But creativity will have to be the secret sauce because you’ve gone and earned yourself “a reputation”. The last thing on her mind would be to see your stupid face today. Perfect.
Now, to pre-clarify, a simple plan, doesn’t mean good plan. And this may have been neither but good is a matter of perspective. Bad, well bad is easier to identify post mortem. Does it mean a man is no good, if no good comes from his actions or do intentions get any recognition? Asking for a friend.
Some things a man does, just for himself. No need for others to know about the challenge or triumph; it’s an integrity thing…this wasn’t one of those. This was more of a “gratuitous excitement” kind of thing.
You have have a customary pre-action thought of caution: sometimes fate just isn’t reasonable. But of course there’s no mystery in reason. A wise man once said “just because you can, doesnt mean you should”. Unfortunately that works the other way too.
But by tonight fate may finally be finished toying with you and tomorrow you’ll be a tabloid front page. She used to say “morning is for thinking, the nighttime is for feels”. It’s 4 seconds to midnight somewhere; you better get moving. But not before firing up another coffin nail.
As the sun ascends in the azure expanse,
I reflect on the journey that brought me here,
A journey fraught with trials and tribulations,
Yet crowned with triumph and redemption.
I recall the moments of doubt and despair,
When the weight of the world threatened to crush me,
But from the depths of despair, I arose,
Like a phoenix reborn from the ashes of adversity.
Each scar upon my flesh tells a story,
A story of battles fought and victories won,
For every wound inflicted, I emerged stronger,
A testament to the indomitable human spirit.
With each passing day, I embrace the dawn,
Embracing the promise of a new beginning,
For in the embrace of the morning light,
I find solace, strength, and renewal.
I cast aside the shackles of doubt and fear,
And step boldly into the unknown,
For I know that within me lies the power,
To conquer mountains and defy the odds.
So let the world tremble and the heavens quake,
I stand unshaken, a beacon of hope,
For within me dwells the unwavering resolve,
To overcome, to endure, to triumph.
With every heartbeat, I proclaim my strength,
A strength forged in the crucible of adversity,
For I am not defined by my scars,
But by the courage with which I face each challenge.
In the tapestry of life, I am a thread,
Woven into the fabric of existence,
And though I may fray and unravel at times,
I will never break, for my spirit is unbreakable.
So let the winds of change blow and the tides shift,
I stand firm, anchored to my convictions,
For I am a warrior, a survivor, a victor,
And I will never surrender, for I am triumphant.
Even as the shadows lengthen and the day fades,
I stand tall, bathed in the twilight's glow,
For in every ending, there lies a new beginning,
And in every challenge, an opportunity to grow.
As the stars twinkle in the velvet sky above,
I whisper a silent prayer of gratitude,
For the trials that shaped me, the lessons learned,
And the resilience that carried me through.
So let the world marvel at my resilience,
For I am a testament to the human spirit,
And though the road may be long and arduous,
I will continue to journey forward, undaunted.
For in every setback, there lies a comeback,
And in every obstacle, a chance to rise,
And with each step I take, I move closer,
To the realization of my dreams, my triumph.
I listened to a conversation I didn't mean to enter
but an evil sneer sent in my friend's direction
led me to speak before I realized it was a mistake.
In defense of my spiritual sister,
and the Truth of God's Word,
I very calmly asked a stranger
why he believed the Bible was wrong.
His response was a finger, shaken in my face
and unsavory words I'd not repeat.
I shook the dust from my feet and turned away.*
But before I was able to take two steps,
the stranger continued to rant,
"You know the Bible is out of date.
It doesn't matter what it says!"
I sighed, took a breath and said a silent prayer.
"Sir, if you will kindly allow me to say a word or two,
I'll continue our discussion in a peaceful manner."
He looked uncertain, so I began to speak of my beliefs,
but he stopped me in mid-sentence and said,
"That's nonsense! I don't want to hear any more."
I learned long ago that a soft answer turns away wrath,
but a harsh word stirs up anger,** so I said, "Have a good day."
He smirked as though he'd won a victory in a game of Chess,
looking at me as if I were a loser, a pawn, and he a king,
so besotted with himself, thinking he had won.
There was a grin on his face, laced with honied contempt.
I nodded to my friend, and she concurred with me,
leaving at this moment was what we had to do,
knowing in our hearts, it's what God expected of us.
I allowed the stranger to wear a hollow crown
in which there is no honor, no triumph or glory.
I didn't say, "Sir, your reasoning is flawed."
With one more Divine inspired thought I'd have said,
"Checkmate," but it would've been a waste of time
to throw my pearls before the feet of swine..."***
I recalled, "Whoever exalts himself will be humbled,
and whoever humbles himself will be exalted."****
With enlightenment right in front of him,
he refused to see that his reality is merely a fantasy,
so in darkness he remains... His shallowness betrayed
what his heart may have spiritually enfolded.
How unfortunate and tragic it is to me, that blind ones
are concerned about nothing more than winning a battle
but fail to comprehend the reason for the war.
October 12, 2021
The High Road Contest
Sponsor: Gina McIntosh
* Matthew 10:14 ** Proverbs 15:1
*** Matthew 7:6 ****Matthew 23:12
A Hint at What Is Beautiful :
Lovely is the 'bless your heart'
Wrapped with appreciation,
Offered to peace inclined individuals
Who make a special effort
To nurture shrapnel singed casualties
In the midst of napalm sedated air,
Conveying their humankind, unobtrusively
Also, unassumingly, in our
Blood recolored, avarice unhealthy,
Detest eaten world.
Lovely is the occasion,
At the point when the heart apathetic
To euphoria or distress, just trusts
Whatever this life brings
In any case, discovers time to simply be.
By Yoonoos Peerbocus
A Crazed Girl :
THAT crazed young lady ad libbing her music.
Her verse, moving upon the shore,
Her spirit in division from itself
Climbing, falling She knew not where,
Stowing away in the midst of the load of a steamship,
Her knee-top broken, that young lady I pronounce
A delightful grand thing, or a thing
Nobly lost, chivalrously found.
Regardless of what debacle happened
She remained in edgy music wound,
Wound, injury, and she made in her triumph
Where the bunches and the bins lay
No regular comprehensible sound
Be that as it may, sang, 'O ocean starved, hungry ocean.'
By William Butler Yeats
A Baby View of Abortion :
I came as tomorrow
Swaddled in guiltlessness
To your warm womb
Mother… …
Without your decision
Or on the other hand mine
Bound to up date
With time
Our human tree
Be that as it may, before adoration
Developed into fragile living creature and words
What is incomplete creation-
A precipitation of blood
Turned into my greatness.
By Yoonoos Peerbocus
A Ballad of Heaven :
He created at one extraordinary work for quite a long time ;
The world go by with elevated look;
Some of the time his eyes were dashed with tears ;
In some cases his lips with giggling shook.
His significant other and youngster went dressed in clothes,
Also, in a blustery garret starved ;
He trod his measure on the banners,
Also, high on paradise his music cut.
Contemplative he became yet never dreaded ;
For dependably on the midnight skies
His rich symphonic score showed up
In stars and zones and universes.
He thought to duplicate down his score ;
The moonlight was his light; he stated,
'Listen my adoration,' however on the floor
His better half and tyke were lying dead.
John Davidson