Long Unsung hero Poems
Long Unsung hero Poems. Below are the most popular long Unsung hero by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Unsung hero poems by poem length and keyword.
Vivid flashbacks from bloodshed battles
his soul still ravaged by devious dictators,
cries from fallen comrades still echo in his mind,
but he continues to walk upon a path of pandemonium.
Reluctantly he ventures forward with
vengeance portrayed through embers
engulfed within his frenzied eyes -
reflecting his mother's irreversible tears.
He is no mercenary nor a moneymaker,
just a repentant drifter, preparing for bedlam.
His purpose in sight, he closes his eyes,
but struggles to erase his thoughts,
as the sins of his ancestry inflict his mind.
Angels attempt to light his path with harmonic chords,
but demons cause havoc strumming broken strings.
Entering the kingdom of dry fountains,
where God has no influence,
he is afraid to inhale its corrupt pollutant air.
Charcoal clouds rumble,
before horizons shed unwelcome tears.
Before him platinum priests preach,
as court jesters dance with sly grins,
hiding metaphorical daggers behind their backs.
To his right overfull hospitals have no beds,
as penniless patients plead to be cured.
To his left the self proclaimed vain king
sits on his cardboard throne,
throwing dollars into a blazing fire place.
To his side his tyrannical hypocritical queen
hides behind her simulated smile,
oblivious to her narcissistic prince's incest desires
towards her clueless imbecilic princess.
It's an endless loop of greed cultivating corrupt seed,
which continues to breed nefarious creed.
Miserable masses attempt to break free,
but their liberation is dissected by cretinous henchmen.
In the marketplace of Machiavellian thieves,
merchant pawns auction fragmented dreams.
Sold to the biggest idiot!
His eyes full of disbelief, now rage with anarchy!
Intoxicated knights raise their half empty glasses,
as he calmly walks into this man made sand castle.
Gifts the cunning conniving cook some cyanide,
which he empties into his delectable broth.
Both watch as the elevated ones savour it like dogs,
perishing dramatically to their deserved downfall.
Beyond his childhood playground,
now with rusty swings and slides,
he places a crimson rose upon his mother's grave,
kissing her untouched headstone.
Expressionless he walks into the distance,
as storms wash away weak foundations.
Silent One
25 July 2018
Her eyes open to a sunrise that fades in shades bright from its early black
Another day with the weight of the world on her shoulders and a void at her back
But she gets up and bares it because she’s strong and her soul remains intact
Stating that she’s more than amazing is none less than a concrete fact
But some kind of woman she is to hold in her arms a whole planet
The least it could do is make itself lighter and easier to manage
But reality is, and she persists, endures and she still stands
At the end of battles and wars, there she is with her heart inside of her hands
As a gift or a prize for only the luckiest man that will ever live
That woman is worth more than what she’s bargained for, so more than that I’d will to give
No gold, no platinum, no diamonds for this price can surmount or suffice
For she is worth my blood, sweat and tears in a glass with crushed ice
With my body served whole like sushi, uncooked in its truth, wrapped on a mound of rice
And my bones as strength to endure hard times, and I’d give all that to her twice
She’s wears priceless beauty like a Lily, appearing delicate and soft
Yet, stronger than her surroundings like an Orchid from the desert in a Paris city loft
She’s rare and well kept although daring and free
Committed to the bone, her roots run deep as an age old tree
She’s young and vibrant as a fire-cracker, yet private like an unsung hero
And even if her alias remained unknown, she’d still be my number after zero.
What a woman. What a beauty. And it’s unjust to see her bare her’s and other’s pain
It encourages me to will to fill that void on her back, and to romance her pretty brain
To enter her soul and exchange for it, mine and show her that I’m her soldier arriving ready
to fight
Through wars and rumors of wars, til death parts us before we meet again in the sky in mid
flight
But you see, if to believe is to have ever lasting life, then even physical death could not out
endure this man’s will to hold the stem of this beautiful Lily of an Orchid
And she’d tower above as God smiles with love as I hold her proud, up right, strong and
confident.
To her I would offer that. To her I would offer me.
But so beautiful she is as a Lily of an Orchid, wild, strong and free.
Form:
Bully me you, I exemplified archetypal scapegoat
Even as old (dish) married
(spooning) curmudgeon,
who receives social security disability
linkedin with social anxiety)
chose the fork less traveled
aye pucker with sunken cheeks,
(especially without dentures)
and raspily suction toothless mouth
drawing reminiscent guffaws affecting
attempt impersonating plumber
(think unclogging toilet)
please support your local bummer
back in the day one
long haired pencil neck geeks palled
around with another
hirsute nerd - Roger Kummerer,
(who both of us graduated Methacton
High School class of 1977),
and yours truly readily
admitting, alluding, and attesting
without shadow of doubt
representing the dumber
than rocks of said beastie boys
bandits, donning particolored pachyderm
gabardine garb getup trumpeting,
especially as Mummer
on each New Year's Day
with bare ass tuchus
excellently imitating courtesy said orifice
(as chief motormouth) sound
of combo motorboat hummer.
Ah... the joys of amazingly aging gracefully
happily recalling never being
beat into bloody pulp dully
imagining dimming sense and sensibility
before (appearing gratefully dead)
lifeless body dumped into gully
nonetheless all the while fully
maintaining conscious, and forcefully
summoning forth latent powers gleefully
choking living daylights masterfully
delivering just desserts upon Tom Viglione,
whose plaintive laments truthfully
resonate as blessed music
to ears unaccustomed hearing pitifully
sounding long overdue comeuppance
forever disbelieving wrongfully
perpetrated injustice
witnessed impossible mission
fueling an ordinarily meek lad
only in his dreams, he envisions zestfully.
Pugnacious thuggish hooligans... although
decades long since elapsed, whereby hoodlums
jockeyed to rain one after another verbal blow
threatening introverted diminutive boy
who, no surprise did eventually,
albeit (stuntedly) grow
(as an aside resembled anorexic
Santa Claus ho... ho... ho...)
still wracked, impacted, affected...,
this punster, he haint Joe
King, but upholds valuable humor less or mo'
feebly, lamely, and quirkily aspires toward po'
whit tree linkedin with infusing,
(no matter ex post facto)
freeing mine unsung hero.
Cruel fate nixed our sites set for buying a hoagie
Yours truly and the wife
tended to some errands,
which included going
to the Limerick,
Pennsylvania Citizens Bank
for me to rectify
an erroneous address
indicating I Matthew Harris
purportedly and presently domiciled at:
96 West Miner Street
(and whereinthehellis)
Coaldale, Pennsylvania
18218-1017
which address listed after viewing
online banking screen
indicating Good morning,
afternoon or evening,
then scrolling down
to sought after preference selecting
either checking or savings account
then clicking on View
Statements in Document Center
subsequently choosing
timeframe, account and type),
while the spouse
patiently waited in a hot car,
(slightly more comfortable
than a cat on a hot tin roof)
then going to ALDI'S, GIANT
(the latter place
to dump off paper for recycling
and making a beeline to purchase items
in the clearance section),
felt sorely disappointed,
when a series of unfortunate events
(even Lemony Snicket
would have been dumbfounded)
occurred when earlier today
and last least on the agenda
found me headed
at the Royersford, Pennsylvania Wawa
for what I envisioned being
a mouthwatering (yellow) "submarine"
or just "sub" the general term
for both the bread roll and sandwiches
made with it in both the USA
and other English speaking nations
and lastly Wawa
right there in Royersford
felt jinxed cause we
(hungry enough to eat a horse),
could not purchase
(what both of us imagined to be)
our delectable aforementioned sandwiches
which DID NOT
find me being thee unsung hero
(regarding a damsel in distress)
actually courtesy using the EBT
(electronic benefits transfer)
SNAP food card declined part of the sale,
nor could I access (withdraw) funds
using a recently issued debit card
farcical indicating expiration date,
when the spouse gave me a dour
facial recognition expression
(and she feigned pouting like a child),
cause her husband
could not head back to the house
at Pooh Corner
with aforementioned treasured commestible
already finding us salivating
like Pavlov's dog,
which dude (who looks like a lady,
with sweet emotion,
especially after washing
and drying my hair) came back
to the car empty handed.
Africa Kills Her Sun in Ken Saro-Wiwa short story
So far the greatest short story i've ever read
Where the blackest pen lives
With the blackest ink with the darkest hue
Yet the blackest truth out there even to this day
Of the oppression, dictatorship, killings, fear, corruption and discrimination
A call for freedom
Africa still living in the shadows of colonialism
But Africa took an initiative, a positive compass
Mary Muthoni Nyanjiru, an unsung hero
Shot dead during the colonial era for her fight against colonialism
Wangari Maathai, the first African woman to win the Nobel peace prize
She planted one tree at a time, a voice for the environment, a fighter for women rights
Charity Kaluki Ngilu has played many roles in politics
One of the first kenyan female presidential candidates
I still remember the 1997 elections
Pamela Jelimo and Catherine Ndereba
Through their marathons, they have paved many seas
I remember those cross country days back in primary school, it was tough
I applaud you girls
Grace Ogot, East African best known woman author
The mother of Kenyan literature
Her words had power, and her actions showed it
Captain Irene Koki Mutungi, the first African female dreamliner captain
Flying higher and higher, more girls dreaming higher and higher
Kakenya Ntaiya, among the top 10 CNN heroes of 2013
I've listened to your Ted Talk of "a girl who demanded education"
About how at the age 12 you made a deal with your dad to undergo female circumcision if he would let you go to highschool
And that happened, you even went to college
And then came back and founded a school for young girls
Lupita Nyong'o, it was hard to watch "12 Years a Slave"
Because truth brings out a lot of anger, but at the same time it has to be told
The first Kenyan actress to win an Academy Award.
It nice to see you in magazines but it feels even more nice to know that there is a girl out there in some village
Who now believes it's possible because of you
Africa saved her daughter, and by doing so
It saved all
Sources > coming soon:-)
January 17th, 2020, a moost memorable outing at Collegeville Diner
A hardy acknowledgement yessiree
to the blessed sister Amelie worthy
of such beloved, devoted,
feted husband Rich truly
bestowed predicated upon
random chain of events
i.e., accidental, biological,
and genealogical happenstance prithee
applauding, apprising, and appraising key
kith and kin flavoring, enlightening,
and charming every
life ye and said spouse...
chance circumstance doth avail
your lucky charms to recipients receive detail
impossible mission to annotate here,
nonetheless with gusto courtesy
gratitude yours truly does exhale
regarding unconditional loving
creatures great and small
unbridled zeal without fail
truevalue analogous, yet exceeding
fine spun gold woolworth paltry holy grail,
nor can infinite wordsworth express hale
low, and brotherly love,
(equals at the least $20.00)
an introspective male
i.e. me, whose recent keen awareness
of vital specialness doth prevail
when a little boy quivering
scared as baby quail
his older sister genuinely
ranked high on importance scale
emotionally caring despite many travail
experienced by prodigal son
of Boyce and Harriet,
who frequently if not always did veil
steaming, roiling, quaking...
blubbering like a whale
Ahab oft times admit floundering chick
hen daring to venture metaphorical
unfamiliar muddy waters
unlike legendary Moby Dick
thrashing restless legs vainly kick
starting how to live think
lost at figurative sea
with nary an iota
abandoning ship lick
kitty split never trying
to overcome self doubt
when chased, teased and easily
trounced by bullies quick
as greased lightning
to cower on all fours
calling out for Ranger Rick
(or other unsung hero),
whose highlighted schtick
nowhere in sight, thus I got treated
analogous as some cheap trick
praying for salvation,
ye thence fended off beastie boys
(poetic liberty I take)
as veritable hooligans
threatened with wick
cud lee to thrash hide of
Matthew Scott imposing arbitrary
eminent domain despite
supposedly safe sanctified bailiwick.
I crown the missus "champ impractical joker"
Unbeknownst the wife appeared unusually upbeat,
she did pretend and succeed
to give yours truly a special treat
aforementioned item alluded to purchased
at Liberty Ministry thrift store
3841 Ridge Pike
(some miles further east
same road identified as Main Street)
Collegeville, Pennsylvania 19426
I can show you proof courtesy
printed information on pocketed receipt.
Most times one garden variety generic bloke
(christened Matthew Scott Harris),
would with pursed lips think
and or mouth the words okey doke
what in the name of Judas Priest
by George, he a run of the mill
on the floss ordinary heavy mettle folk
doth thee spouse got up her (figurative) sleeve
thespian wannabe she never quite...
her constitute stardom quite a joke.
She practices April's fool day
(hoping nobody notices
as she looks askance)
every time she gets a chance
gleefully clapping her hands
while performing an impromptu (risque) dance,
when she pulls off
hat tricks of her trade
taking Europe in general and France
in particular by storm
madding crowds clamoring to prance
with said unsung hero.
The words mentioned above intended for you
dear anonymous reader to woo
allowing, enabling, and providing how I view
livingsocial linkedin with good n plenti true
without a shadow of doubt poetic license taken,
these words zealously, randomly, haphazardly
scattered across screen willy nilly I spew
trying to coerce coalescence of continuity
yet additionally trying to weave events
earlier today December 22nd, I review,
whereby yours truly while waiting in a queue
assorted merchandise fifty percent off
the spouse did avidly pursue
unbeknownst she would play a prank and outdo
pulling a doozy gag at my expense, he took netview
of utter tomfoolery, and readily admits Matthew
Scott Harris I nearly ate "faux chocolate soap"
finding wife in stitches, he too
did chuckle, cuz he knew
supposed treat smelled extremely fragrant
cocoa confection fortunately, I did not chew
but promptly spit out after sneezing atchew!
Bully me you, I exemplified archetypal scapegoat
Even as old curmudgeon, aye pucker
and raspily suction toothless mouth
drawing reminiscent guffaws affecting
attempt impersonating plumber
(think unclogging toilet)
please support your local bummer
back in the day one
long haired pencil neck geeks palled
around with another
hirsute nerd - Roger Kummerer,
(who both of us graduated Methacton
High School class of 1977),
and yours truly readily
admitting, alluding, and attesting
without shadow of doubt
representing the dumber
than rocks of said beastie boys
bandits, donning particolored pachyderm
gabardine garb getup trumpeting,
especially as Mummer
on each New Year's Day
with bare ass tuchus
excellently imitating courtesy said orifice
(as chief motormouth) sound
of combo motorboat hummer.
Ah... the joys of amazingly aging gracefully
happily recalling never being beat into pulp dully
imagining dimming sense and sensibility
before (appearing gratefully dead)
lifeless body dumped into gully
nonetheless all the while fully
maintaining conscious, and forcefully
summoning forth latent powers gleefully
choking living daylights masterfully
delivering just desserts upon Tom Viglione,
whose plaintive laments truthfully
resonate as blessed music
to ears unaccustomed hearing pitifully
sounding long overdue comeuppance
forever disbelieving wrongfully
perpetrated injustice witnessed impossible mission
fueling an ordinarily meek lad
only in his dreams, he envisions zestfully.
Pugnacious thuggish hooligans... although
decades long since elapsed, whereby hoodlums
jockeyed to rain one after another verbal blow
threatening introverted diminutive boy
who, no surprise did eventually,
albeit (stuntedly) grow
(as an aside resembled anorexic
Santa Claus ho... ho... ho...)
still wracked, impacted, affected...,
this punster, he haint Joe
King, but upholds valuable humor less or mo'
feebly, lamely, and quirkily aspires toward po'
whit tree linkedin with infusing,
(no matter ex post facto)
freeing mine unsung hero.
Radical planet friendly measures
equals earning kudos as unsung hero
(think environmental/carbon footprint)
nearly absolute zero
while global population quarantine
suspension of civil rights
would never fly with trumpeting pharaoh.
Since United States economically crippled
(as well rest of world wide web)
courtesy coronavirus fallout rippled
analogous, whereby Mother Earth
(Gaia's) motley crew psyches stippled.
Golden nugget opportunity whence
twenty first century man/womankind
can make figurative about face
humanity undergoes tense
fossil fuel powered civilization
intricate tapestry doth unwind
(COVID-19) wreaking havoc
among flu fighting village people
constituting human race
shifting radical paradigm
toward renewable resources
alas me dogmatic karma credit
thinks green new deal
(Paine fully) common sense
to any doubting Thomas
since global governments
currently flattened, gutted,
hobbled, immobilized, jackknifed
martial law restricts
impugns verity capitalistic
(re: cannibalistic planetary exploitation)
acquiescing higglety pigglety
free for all
(Alfred E. Neuman wannabes) madcap
(spy versus spy chase
explicit green lighting
global (fiery red) desecration rents
linkedin multitude innocent
flora and fauna violently asunder
ethos predicated upon
vandalistic, monopolistic, capitalistic...
manifest destiny codas enshrined
no matter indigenous tribes genocide
horrifically did erase
place names benign injustice
underestimates true value
native peoples legacy
impossible mission feebly
conjuring bloody events
sacred treaties scotched, revoked, quashed...
accentuating death sentence signed
obliterating rightful heirs amazing grace
storied proud nations traduced
as agents provocateur
cruelly prodded to adopt
offense and/or defense
inevitably pushed off their sacred lands
today their abysmal existential nihilistic crisis
crushing, damning, punishing... poverty
testament how third eye blind
turned away s as to avoid witnessing
tears for fears etching staind face.
Eulogy For An Unsung Hero ©
The late John Sidney McCain III,
now flies with Arrow Smith,
Babbitt, and Jefferson Airplane
five days shy of his
eighty second birthday,
taken down (to his demise)
courtesy, sans metastatic cancer of brain
defeated by an aggressive
deadly linkedin chain,
yet still earns kudos
no matter 1967 USS Forrestal fire
(during the Vietnam War)
his life source did
nearly completely drain
though purposeless prevails,
asper absolute zero gainsay,
no rhyme nor reason
can even feebly explain,
when approximately
a quarter million young men
(oh...yes, perhaps
some women too) perished
at sea, on land, or floatplain
sacrificed their lives for nought,
zip, nada nothing to GAIN
(my bald, billed,
and bold assertion,
a mere minor tirade
subpar class 1 hurricane
non-veteran civilian personnel),
nonetheless afflictions by said
United States veteran and,
subsequent Senator from Arizona,
what posthumous praise me expresses
merely mildly silly putty,
piddly, paltry and inane
as anti septic (of danger)
such as books
for children star
ring Dick and Jane
does disservice, injustice offends,
(perhaps descriptive word choices
might smack of hyperbole,
my humble apology if in apropos),
thus a more app pealing appellation,
could be Citizen Kane,
whose corporeal being got lain
to rest on a grassy hill
adjacent to the main
starting point of his storied existence,
the burial plot (right next to
lifelong friend Chuck Larson)
amidst a plain
extolling grandeur and solemnity,
where grim reaper didst slain
of Arlington National
Cemetery in Virginia terrain
concluding mine poetic epistle,
that didst wax and wane.