Long Troy Poems
Long Troy Poems. Below are the most popular long Troy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Troy poems by poem length and keyword.
A stable plate on two different trays
historically embracing the celebrated words of Caesar.
Home to the Hittites of old, St. Nicholas and the Antioch’s monument,
and a fine developing continuation of the ancient city of Troy.
From being a port to the legendary Ark
to introducing cherry and coffee to an entire continent.
Its mega hub, now stands a cultural goal post
to the entire pitch of its very affluent larger region.
Yet, its focal point uncommonly stands at Ankara
and the survival of Tin still stay true in Goltepe.
In time’s rare, twas the battle ground for the Trojan wars,
also the Museums of wonders of Halicarnasus and Ephesus,
but now an active site of manufacturing and Industrial boom.
While two land masses caress its identity,
the surrounding waters play and dance to its productivity.
If your life is a story what will be your titled page?
Will it be just a kindle format or a hardback
I wonder what the pages would spell like
May be of mystery, misery, love, hate, shelter or war
Will there be children crying on the front headlines;
Riots .Or will there be flowers planted on the front
pages to tell how beautiful your emotion is, may be
berries .will it be a blue berry or red berry .Or a rose
flower. Will the pages speak for themselves.
If your life was a book what will you name it?
Will it be a novel or a novela, a play or poem
An essay or a memoir written
Will it be in rhymes, a sonnet, an epic or just free verses
I wonder if it will be a photocopy of another man's pages
Will the chapters spell love or hatred , well spent or regret
Who will be in your acknowledgement?, and
dedicated to who?
Will you be the hero or villain, the Jack or Rose ,
the Romeo or Juliet
Achilles, Hector, Paris, or Helen of Troy
If your life was a book what will you name it
What would the world read of it?
Please Tell!!!
By Gideon Idudje
Out of the bowels of Harrisburg
Comes a new woman on the scene
She's head of environmental pollution
She's known as the Harbor Sludge Queen
She's in charge of polluting our county
And putting the environment in a rut
While her boss, the infamous Mr. Ed
Has his nose buried in athlete's butt
It doesn't do any good to scream and holler
And our right to choose is naught
Please publish her picture in the newspaper
So we can see what corporate America just bought
We were told the sludge is beneficial
But no matter what you call it
The only place it's beneficial
Is to our politician's wallet
When your child asks you
Daddy, why is the grass so green
Tell him it won't be green for long
Thanks to the Harbor Sludge Queen
Their long range plan is simple
Pollute the mountains and all in between
Then buy the properties for nothing
Courtesy of the Harbor Sludge Queen.
Dedicated to the Department of Environmental Protection Who is allowing the
dumping of fly ash mixed with dredging from the New York Harbors to be
dumped in the unlined mine pits in our area. They are already responsible for the
death of Troy Behun, an 11 year old child and Daniel Pennock a 17 year old.
They've already spent the almost unlimited super fund money in Pennsylvania.
As with most government agencies, total incompetence and gross negligence
prevails.
Life is an adventure
are you ready to drive?
To launch as an entrepreneur
We take on our passions
and work our bucket list in life
And laugh at the danger
and wade through the strife
Architect a world full of mystery and intrigue
Work our way through this very limited time here
10 lifetimes would maybe be enough
to see our life's work done indeed
So smile and whistle in your day
and apply yourself all in good time
And bring your passion and zeal to obstacles
so its not wear in the daily grind
There is a world to be conquered
with science, art and time
And just the activity
can make life sublime
- the essence of a passionate life For Richard Troy, Chief Scientist, Science Tools, Karmann Ghia God, Da Vinci to my Michaelangelo (C) May 23rd, 2011 Artimus Aka Susan Manley
I struggle nobly to describe my love.
Her voice! It calms my soul like peaceful dove.
Desire for her burns deep within my heart.
Her beauty shames a priceless work of art.
To be with her is much of my life’s joy;
I feel for Greeks who saved Helen from Troy.
I think about what life was like before;
Glad I’ve no other lover to look for.
Do I compare my love to starry night?
The countless lights that strive to be so bright?
Her grace and elegance cause me to sigh.
I am a better man when she is nigh.
To pass the time away from her is pain,
But worth it all when I see her again.
You are so beautiful like Helen of Troy
So brainy, special, and unique
Nobody can compete you
Her smiling reflection answered from the mirror
She was lost in her own eyes
Bang!! From no where a stone strike the mirror
Shattering it into many pieces
She cried___ who is there?
Looked around, saw nobody
Sitting on the ground to have one closer look at the mirror again
She saw distorted, ugly images of her self
Turning her face away, she got up
To find out who shattered her world
From behind a huge rock
She heard some voices
Barefooted, she moved forward,
And heard the exact words
which the mirror had told her
Now it was telling them to a young boy
How brave, intelligent, & smart you are
Like Odin of an old folk tale
She knew the mirror was lying
It lied to her and now to him
She picked a stone and hit the mirror
Bang!! And then there was nothing
Except ugliness, weakness, imperfections
Just Like the real world
She moved forward leaving marks of blood footprints
And shattered mirror behind
What I see in stars above is extremely wearisome,
with useless inane details that I wish I never knew.
Light years, space-time, black holes, big bangs,
myriads of pricks 'n specks a billion miles away - who cares?
I've been over-dubbed, deluded, and robbed,
of the romance, songs, stories,
and delightful spiritual legends
that ancient master star gazers saw
in stars above.
Hunter and archers with sword, belt, arrows and shield,
A veritable zoo of animals - lion, ram, bull, bear, llama, emu,
goat, scorpion, fish and severed heads, under arms.
Pots and pans, the scrub-a-dub dish that
ran away with the spoon.
Regal Heracles, Achilles and Troy in battles raging skyward
Bickering Gods, Virgins, Kings and Queens with kids and twins.
Action-men Pharaohs, wannabee Gods,
leaping from pyramid tops,
onto the ladder of the Milky Way, which is -
The River of Heaven, Road of Souls
The Spilled Breast Milk of Hera the Mother God
The seed-strew pathway the mighty Emus trod,
pecking their way,
In stars above.
We all should get out and look up more!
Gazing with ancient eyes into the sky above,
reveling to see and enjoy what they saw,
in stars above.
An old friend died today.
I lift my head and look back,
Down the long fabric of my past.
I remember us at a party –
We partied a lot in those
“Salad days” of our youth!
At one another’s homes
Babies, bolstered with pillows,
Slept on upstairs beds.
Good-natured competitions
Produced late night buffets.
The 20-40 Club – surely we’d
Never be more than 40!
What skits we put on!
The picnics and treasure hunts,
Singing in Musical Arts
Concerts at Troy Music Hall,
New Year’s Eve – a dinner-dance,
Then on ‘til dawn and
Bacon and eggs
At the all night diner.
In later years we kept in touch –
Calls, Christmas cards, rare visits -
Time always dropped away,
And we were back there yet!
Even now I only see Leona young -
Smiling that wonderful smile
That would light a room –
And singing, always singing!
wind god
was Boreas
of winter and north winds
swept down from cold northern mountains
of Thrake
he blew
cold icy gusts
of breath from bloated cheeks
hair and beard spiked with ice, wide mouth
howling
sometimes
seen as horse-shaped
purple-winged swift stallion
he swept down on mares in new spring
to sire
horses
for King of Troy
mated with Trojan mares
fathered the swift, wind-shaped stallions
for him
he found
King of Athens’
daughter, Oreithyia
by riverside meadow, playing
dancing
enthralled
by her dancing
and struck with mad desire
he abducted her to the sky
to wed
hid her
in soft white clouds
their love bore a daughter
Khione, beautiful goddess
of snow
sons, the
Boreades
chased away the Harpies
that threatened the King Phineus
of Thrake
Athens
celebrated
Boreas festivals
praised him as their god of the cold
north wind
The death of once-great swans I oft' lament;
and ask in vain, “Where have all the bards gone?”
No more are written lines as eloquent
as in the days of Poesy's ancient dawn,
when Homer sung the epic war for Troy,
and the odyssey of a Greek-hero king;
or, when the poet Petrarch sung for joy
of Laura, his love; and Dante, whose dayspring
of the heart was Beatrice. The Romantics
of bygone days, alas, are forgotten!
The lyric odes of Keats, the Byronics
of George Gordon, are now misbegotten
by great reams of abysmal, free-verse styles
today ill-writ by mental juveniles.