Long Victor Poems
Long Victor Poems. Below are the most popular long Victor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Victor poems by poem length and keyword.
"Better days" Part Two
Down and broke. Had no mattress on the floor, sleeping on the tiles, got frosted and caught a flue.
Had nothing to eat, no Hope just chaotic predicaments, confrontations and a season of hard luck. Tears on granny' s face and no fees for the kids.
But one day!
It all changed, it was the rebirth of Jonah to David the Victor, the Survivor!
Those days gone, now a memento l cannot quite recall, it does not matter for today is a new day.
A new dawn, luck on my side, cloud nine my couch. No more hunger pain!
Pockets deep like the Pacific ocean.
'Every dog, has it's day.' That's what they say and it is indeed true.
Blessings on blessings, doors opening quick, swift decisions. Buffets, Barbeques and lots of treasure like a Lepacon' s layer.
Betters days!
"without roses"
without roses would there be perfume to savor
fragrance is needed to last and spray
absence of her beauty is a life without color
such shades symbolize moments and specialties
apart from scents or hues also lies softness
tenderness of life truly would be unfelt
above all without roses a world of love passes
such a sphere should never be gone or fade away
here and now find your tone in each celebration
love is forever found within her existence
witness and assume notably this beautification
such offerings of life shall enrich your soul
SkyWatcher - 06-12-17
note
Thank You Victor
I hope I did not disappoint
One minute to midnight
On The Nuclear Threat Clock
The world suddenly started
To reel with shock.
Nineteen hundred and sixty two,
Khrushchev shared,
Fidel Castro dared,
John F Kennedy declared,
And the world trembled
As two fleets assembled
On the Atlantic Ocean
Bound to converge.
With bated breath we waited
For a winner to emerge
As the world’s two bullies
Played potentially lethal games
Seemingly a bit more serious than
Sabre rattling and calling names.
They strode the world,
Fought the odd proxy war
But this time it seemed
Just a little more.
And then all of a sudden
One backed down
One fleet sailed for home
As the other turned round.
The victor crowed as
The vanquished lost face
And they started off again
With their power race.
The school yard trembled
And then settled down
As each continued with
Another propaganda round.
The schoolyard bullies
Put their toys away
But readily available for
The next time they played.
On The Nuclear Threat Clock
They moved the hands back
Until the next time the world
Again feared a nuclear attack.
Slave to wayward thoughts,
unwritten poems return to haunt.
Tempest of tragedy arrives as a harbinger,
wrecking fences that divide sleeping paths.
There is no one to show the way.
Father's sins betray,
mother's tongue destroys.
Punishing a misled mind,
to ponder unwanted silence.
Time is no friend, so much is lost in translation.
Perturbed by forgotten promises,
heart becomes a victim to the void,
broken dreams have left behind.
Although a victor of emotional battles,
scars sting, like salt rubbed into wounds.
Soul unable to bare suppressed burdens,
admits defeat to mental adversities.
Life is like a portrait,
moving in slow motion.
Its black and white hues,
highlight uncertainties of future passages,
reminding of regrets from past passengers -
pausing present foretold destinies.
Life is a crossroad of two mismatched meadows,
one full of blossoms blooming through gain,
one full of brambles hiding childhood treasures.
Yet all flowers eventually die,
brambles sting, but can be cleared.
Life is an ephemeral eclipse -
a balance between light and darkness.
Questions will always overbalance answers.
Change is unpredictable like the September sun.
A dilemma of chance and choice,
expressed through analogies and metaphors
poems come to life,
when tired tongues are silent.
The Silent One
15 September 2019
Example for the Crossroads contest
My last post before Christmas. May I wish a Happy and Holy Christmas to all, and a healthy New Year. ~~ Victor
*****
Someone saw me dance
in the town's square
covered with white snow
around the decorated pine.
The lights blinked brightly,
pseudo parcels hang here and there,
music murmured muted carols
as midnight slowly neared.
On top of the pine, a star
was shining strong and silvery,
all around the branches green
tinsel sparkled joyously.
Beneath the tree, a manger stood
reminding me of days gone by,
when a poor couple arrived
at a small but crowded town.
There was no place for them.
The child was born in poverty,
in the town named after bread.
Is there a place for Him now?
Someone saw me, but went on
alone towards his dreams.
I danced unaided around the tree.
Interpreting Poetry (mine)
Similar to scrutinizing
an abstract painting,
this author begetting
obscure words dumbfounding
readers, he eludes
(no shade tree fore rest)
clear cut discerning,
yet oft times his words
garner reviews raving
esoteric word choice,
how mind boggling
to this logophile despite
more than one reading
brow (sir) furrowed -
cognitive region scrunching,
no matter intent concentration
utter futility attempting
bedeviled comprehension, whether
literary master (me? ha...
not yet), among pantheon partying,
but nonetheless birthing
present day profoundly thought provoking,
undoubtedly tirelessly expending
mental energy eventually exhausting
effort in futility understanding,
asper mine stymied
linkedin attention getting
(then just as quickly losing)
registering resignation defeat alluding
to challenge physical prowess daunting
engagement well matched savvy sparring
partner, or possibly life
and death battling
against unwittingly aggressive brutal questing
archenemy, sans toward all living
species wretched nemesis ultimately deciding
mortality tacitly accepted proffering
transient longevity refusing
to compromise, haggle, negotiate,
et cetera casting
deadened demise of victor or villain
all thru civilization starring
as unopposable tour
de force quietly biding
end date, versus indiscriminately snatching
hero, heroine, coward,
et cetera requiring
impossible ransom while donning
mask of Melpomene
(Tragedy), or trumpeting
Thalia (Comedy), no exit stage door left
only joie de vivre
until last second ticking
unbeknownst unexpected, and uninviting
deathly hallows ringtone alarming
anonymous (oh Henry)
words worth struggling
to hash meaningfulness, viz
finite existence germinating
since birth, yet
terminal realization pressing
with greater frequency when aging,
and deafeningly ear splitting
amplitude bite the bullet clamoring
to tread welcome matt acquiescing
unavoidable phase of dying
devoid of any bargain, but requiring
unconditionally punishingly suffering
silent non binding
resolution, no exemption decrying
unfair contractual obligation, nor unionizing
worth a fig yore of
speech as cosmic arbiter
blithely doth shear - pruning,
without rhyme nor reason meeting
identical fate toward everyone
even posthumous destiny yours truly awaiting.
THE EAST & WEST LOVEY-DOVEY
The tribe that loves is the one that blooms.
A house in unison is where love fills it rooms.
Graceful GOODNESS glows in glory,
Victorious VICTOR volts into victory.4
The vibes flew from the East to the West;
A half-cast affection seem always the best.6
When love twirls as swirl world, it's said to curl.
Goodness, the gifted graceful Igbo girl,
Victor, the vibrant virtuosic Yoruba guy,
found a love that leapt across borders & high.¹°
The GOODNESS of God emerges the VICTOR,
Savouring symphony in life's same sector.
Goodness, the gorgeous girl gentle & grand,
Gleamed with grace, glowing & she's so glad.¹4
Victor, with a heart so big, bold and bright,
Bore a beaming smile that shone in the moon's light.
From afar, they felt fate's fine fingertips,
Their love lit like luminous stars in the sky's midst.¹8
Goodness gained a garden of golden dreams,
Victor ventured valiantly, his voice like velvet streams.²°
Their hearts harmonized in a hymn of hope,
Heeding the call of love's lullaby to elope.
Together they traversed through time & tide,
Tangling in tenderness, love's tapestry wide.²4
Now Goodness & Victor, clipped by love's dance,
Donning densed delicate affection from distance.
So, they danced in the dawn destiny's dalliance.²7
VICK MANUEL POETRY
{VMP}
FORM: Aliteration/Rhymes
Copyright ©?24th February 2024.
Bold victor of few words, save salvation.
Death crawls like love save a heart's pulsation
spark pure flight, yon depths freed throbs soar by far,
pique stress's share, naught idle, claimant voiced spar.
No breath? Soul on road less traveled, or, much
traveled road, still, muse back to that grey clutch
frame, soundly placed in peace, smiling at once,
trace of former selves as hands clasp naught fronts.
The hours, days, years, loom as if time extent
ne'er on hold, but fairly nonexistent,
yet, seeing the facts unfold, visibly,
grasp misdirection mist, wonderfully.
Gap dawns rare, naught strange, poise forever light,
caused Steinbeck reword "Mirth" known printed write.
As I reflect on nature's ways,
a struggle goes on for winners to display.
And for those who are beat,
life is lost in utter defeat.
A predator and it's prey,
as the aggressor will display.
Both living in harmony and trust,
only killing when they must.
Predators can be victims in the game,
while higher orders make their claim.
Two creatures both deadly still,
neither will move, both ready for the kill.
Looking each other in the eye,
both in wait, as they lie.
Getting ready for the strike,
playing a waiting game, but both alike.
Tension hangs heavily in the air,
Both deeply frozen within the stare.
both locked in a deadly game,
One victor, one loser will make it's deadly claim.
Victim or Victor
My bubbly being sought an end,
the day he lay tranquil, no pretend,
Dark clouds swiftly veiled my rainbow,
took away the charm and brilliant glow,
The world came crashing, a bruised soul,
As if life with him was the only goal,
Depressed and dejected I wished to die,
As time ditched with that grieving sigh,
Till a heavenly heart came to my rescue,
Made me feel I had still left some due,
Struggling amidst wild sea and all strife,
Finally I was through all negatives of life,
Would have been victim, turned victor,
Cherishing fruits of His worldly splendour.
Written Sept 21st, 2016
For contest by Nayda
Inspired by image
Oops late to enter