Long Victories Poems
Long Victories Poems. Below are the most popular long Victories by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Victories poems by poem length and keyword.
HEAL THY SELF O WOUNDED AFRICA
(no to XENOPHOBIA).
Wake up a voice shouted
You slept like a pregnant woman
While the drum beat of my assagil sounds like trumpet
With fear and deep chill I listened
The ghost of mighty black warrior standing in shiver
As I face the Great Zulu warrior lost in fear
I saw him Shaka cry to the members of Mambers the great Gods of Africa
There before him stands the Mighty Nile in disbelief
With the Niger filled with bloods disagrees to stay calm
The Senegal and the Congo revolted with flood
The orange and the Limpopo grumble and cried as the sky shared their pains with continuous rain pour.
O you failed cried d Zambezi as she invades her neighbors with flood
A knock on my door I heard a voice shout
Speak out for Africa
It is I Kwameh Nkrumah speaking
This is a sacrilegious act echoed the Mighty Zik
When the house is not in order the cockroaches becomes violent
Cried out the anguish voice of Awolowo
From afar I saw a running giant coming with the force of a chariot
Then I heard a voice so mighty was it that the visitors chased it with fear
He a mighty figure decorated and protected by glory of stars
Stood there is burning eyes of anger
Cover in the black glasses with general pride
As curious as a questionnaire
I ventured in to the glorious illusionary scene
Standing before my trembling eyes was The General Abacha in his full stature
Like a Ligtening spark the mighty figure bent his head in shame
As I looked to behold who thou art
There before me I saw The Mighty Mandela in tears of betray
Weep no more thou wounded soul
The thunderous voice of King Sailaise shouted
In council with the great Ghaddafi as furious as
Idi Amin
Sankara frowned like a disgraced old man
While the ghost of Seda Sengho felt it lost its victories like Anthonio lost all his titles
In schock I turned as a firmed hand gently parted my hand
It was a mighty spirit with two heads
It is the heads of the great secretaries
Achebe and Giwa
Handing me a pen a paper
Written on it
Heal thyself O Africa before yesterday bleed to death.
My flesh unharmed, my soul broken in twain
The call christened my soul with five seals
And I sealed the phantom to a crevice
I climbed out of the valley’s shadow
And was quickly banished into a cave
To escape the mist that veiled the world
Love and cherished by few, smothered by none
I saw all things as flinting shadows
Earthly victories and mortal eros
Mere shadows cast by fleeting fires
Everything I saw and knew since my birth
Crafted shadows of an unseen land
Dead to the world and all its promises
And dead to any passing faint dream
The call of life echoed throughout the empty cave
The call of life from the unseen Pleroma land
As the world mist cleared, I saw the morning star
Calling me to her fiery arms of divine love
I recollected the arms of Anne
And remembered her tight, sheltering love
I kept hearing the call outside this cosmic sea
Far away, a sweet fragrance of life for me
Now within the homely arms of Mary
Who is Sophia in flesh, who called
Called me to holy labour and gnosis
She whispered into my gentle heart
Hope of heavenly wisdom’s victory
Faith in a hidden reality
Inner love to do the commands of Christ
Knowledge to fashion stained glass mirrors
To reflect below the sublime wonder
Poetry, art, flags, and ponderings
As well as ringing church bells up above
And watering plants down here below
From the pangs of hellfire and childbirth
I gave birth to my authentic self
My mother handed me over to death
My true mother raised me up to life
I recollected the tight arms of Anne
Now seeing them as a distant dream
Fading away from the pleasant daylight
Barbelo’s light that opened my eyes
Start
I’m sure you’ve heard his name before
From stories of knights in days of yore
Born in village La Mancha in Spain
Was enthralled of knights, he chose to feign
After resurrection, to America he came
In search of adventures and fame
As legend goes, every knight must have a lady- love
To bestow his “victories” to her as it behoove
He chose Princess Melania as the apple of his eye
And began his quest with her name as the battle-cry
He persuaded a ‘Sancho’ to be his faithful squire
With promise of an island to govern as his gift to aspire
Obsessed by the chivalrous deeds of knights he read
He decided to ride a horse which was almost dead
In search of the helpless to defend and the wicked to punish
He began his knighthood with a resolve to fight to the finish
He soon discovered that times have changed
There weren’t any country sides where Kings reigned
Nor castles to conquer or giants to attack
His weird armor and battle cries only drew flak
Nevertheless, he charged at a parked garbage truck
Struck it with his lance using all his pluck
Construing it to be an enemy out to destroy him
But, he fell to the ground with a broken limb
Bruised and battered, Sancho helped him up
Took him to a hospital for a thorough checkup
The doctors patched him up and examined his head
Found its content deficient, but permitted him to go ahead
Resuming his journey he saw a kitten hidden in a bush
“Let’s grope for the pussy,” he yelled at his horse with a push
The horse galloped fast but stumbled as it fell
The kitten got panicky and fled like hell
It’s enough for the day, felt the Don and returned to his lady love
He took a ‘selfie’ with her sitting on the statue of a dove
He knelt before her and said, “Here are my trophies for you”
Presented the broken lance and smashed helmet, before bidding her adieu.
End
ERICKA
Acrostic
E...nergetic, enthusiastic, lovely and humble
Hallmarks of beauty and distinction
Of a woman worthy of admiration
The fulfillment of " his" dreams and aspirations.
R...eplica of Aphrodite, a goddess of beauty
A bright star that glitters and lits the sky so pretty
Sound of music that makes " his " heart so happy
An inspiration to fulfill " his " God-given duty.
I....ncessant, and unconditional love bound your hearts
Brave the weather, the road is difficult and arduous
Never sacrilege and to one another depart
So in the altar of matrimony, someday, be entwined.
C..harm that fascinates, allures and captivates
Enthralled the heart of the man you deeply love
Maintain the probity, dignity and sincerity
Patience too, for this is a virtue of a woman in the Ministry.
K..udos, for all the victories you have achieved
The fruits of your labors and sacrifices
“ Beyond the mountains of hardship
Lies indeed the valley of success ”
A…dage is written in the heart of men
A good wife is a good mother as well
A good leader and a good teacher
Ericka, welcome to the Ministry.
As we sit in anticipation watching the clock countdown
Our minds racing filled with thoughts of renaissance
The talk turns slowly to the making of vows
And we think about sleep and the years reset
After everything that edified us as we celebrate
What will this year bring as we welcome the outset
Filled with optimism at the new years outset
The clocks count our blessings in their continued countdown
As we strive forward small victories we celebrate
As we enter the dawn of our renaissance
As all the negatives we purge and reset
And positivity our mantra that was the vow
In our minds eye we remember that vow
Staying strong and positive like at the outset
Remembering each day to pause and reset
As we tick off goals like the tick tock of a clocks countdown
Positive thoughts kickstart our personal renaissance
As we grow and allow others to grow we continue to celebrate
As we recognise our growth it gives cause to celebrate
Soon we tick off that almost insurmountable final vow
We allow no negativity to hinder our renaissance
As not only we survive but thrive from the outset
No longer do we hear the clocks ominous countdown
As we grow we need less that thought of reset
As we win we watch others still in need of a reset
But with each milestone etched is cause to celebrate
And now we are the ones in control of the countdown
As others see us and admire our vow
And we share its about being consistent, being steady from the outset
As we by our renewal are able to contribute to others renaissance
Be alert in guarding against relapse following renaissance
As the world will try to inevitable push you to reset
But they have not witnessed your strength since the outset
The world fails to grasp its each day you celebrate
And now you have no need of the vow
As you usher in the final countdown
I vow to live my life with every reason to celebrate
And I realise from the outset it was life that I reset
I feel revived and restored in my renaissance as I end the countdown
Starless
I am a mist without a name, adrift from star to star,
a wizard of a law that burns in the dream of some other, stranger world,
a slave escaped from my own body, through the unlocked door of my mind,
the poorest soul beneath the silence of every galaxy there is,
I am a mage of a fire that no longer burns anywhere,
blinded by a star gone dark long ago, that still burns on inside me.
I am a tear of smoke, fallen into a glass filled with time,
from the weeping of a thousand ages that went out without an echo,
I am the dream that catches fire through mirrors shattered into a thousand waters,
at the cold hearths of houses that never truly existed,
I am a reproach wandering through lands that have no shape,
and from a world that's drowning, I am its last cry of gold.
I am the sigh fading out in my village built of clouds,
I am the scream dissolved in red, beneath eyelids made of blood,
of shadows that still burn in houses burned down by light,
I am the messenger of love and hatred, carried on the wings of black butterflies,
a dreamer of victories that never came to pass,
with a spell written on the roof of my mouth, a curse that no one forgets.
I broke free from a grave of stars, damp and silent,
from crypts where everything sleeps that never got the chance to be,
and my memories, like serpents made of smoke, closed in around me,
keeping watch over a thought that burns without border or end,
and with a flower torn from the sky, I wear a mark of kinship on my brow,
I have wept at every door for the pain of those who no longer are.
Today I feel the night coming down over a morning made of crystal,
and my song unravels in the wave of a glass-made night,
I carry my burden among you, splashed with laughter and with light,
for it is hard for one who lets his country fade into a dream,
to ask for it back from his own extinguished shadow,
from his own echo, lost in a sea without a shore.
I search for you in the silence between the stars, beneath the patient moon that has watched lovers pray long before my name was ever spoken. I lift my eyes to the mountains, where heaven whispers, “My help comes from the Lord” (Psalm 121:1-2), and I ask God not simply for a woman, but for the one whose heart beats in rhythm with His. Come talk to me when the world grows quiet. Walk beside me when the road grows steep. Respect me as I will honor you. Love me as Christ teaches us to love—with patience that never rushes, kindness that never fades, grace that never keeps score, for “Love is patient, love is kind” (1 Corinthians 13:4). Let our prayers rise higher than our pride, our laughter echo louder than our pain, and our faith become the melody that carries us through every season. Under the moon, beneath the stars, above the valleys, and before the mountains, may every step we take remind us that God was writing our story while we were still searching for each other.
I do not dream of riches—I dream of building. Building a table where our family gathers. Building a home where peace never has to knock because it already lives there. Building wealth with honest hands, faithful hearts, and willing spirits, knowing that “Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their labor” (Ecclesiastes 4:9). I want to celebrate your victories as if heaven had blessed us both, to carry your burdens until they become light, to hold your hand until these hands grow old, and to remind you, every single day, that you are God’s answered prayer before you are mine. If the stars should fade, let our faith still shine. If the mountains should crumble, let our covenant still stand. If the moon should hide behind the clouds, let our love still reflect the Light that never leaves us. And when the Lord finally brings your heart to mine, I will not call it fate—I will call it mercy, purpose, promise, and the beautiful work of the God who created the heavens, the earth, and a love worthy of His name.
Strips of being here are drawn all over you, fine lines intertwining with your skin,
It is not within the whites of dainty skies to praise who you are,
I hope you don't hide the only thing that makes you, you,
That unique spark, that fire burning deep within your soul.
The black mark curving down to your collarbones remembers the anguish you scrubbed off,
It is not an abyss's purpose to make you love staying,
I hope you don't die as someone you don't know, don't lose yourself in the cloak of a foreign identity.
On an endless night, with stars like ink dots on an ancient parchment,
I think of you, of the fragile strips that contour your being,
Of every line that tells your battles and victories,
Of the shadows dancing on your skin, echoes of a tumultuous past.
When the wind wanders through the leaves of old trees,
I feel your presence like a sad melody, a symphony of a lost soul,
And I wonder if you'll ever find peace in those shadows,
If you'll learn to embrace those black marks not as a burden, but as badges of honor.
In the labyrinth of your mind, where every thought is a dark corner,
I carry the hope that you won't get lost in the unfathomable depths,
That you won't be seduced by the abyss's call, won't dissolve into its silence,
That you'll find yourself, in all your splendor, in all your vulnerability.
Your soul, a wandering ship on emerald seas,
Floating among waves of thoughts and emotions,
Seeking a lighthouse, a guiding light to bring you home,
To a port where you can reveal your true essence, without fear, without a mask.
And perhaps, one day, when the sky is white again,
You'll dare to show the world that spark, that fire burning within you,
You'll understand that you are not defined by the black marks, but by the way you carry them,
That you are an entire universe, full of stars and constellations, and that every strip of you is a chapter in a magical story.
Never hide, never lose yourself,
Live as who you are, love what you are,
In this world of shadows and lights, of dainty whites and dark abysses,
Always find your way back to yourself, never forget who you are.
Radio Poem
by Bertolt Brecht
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You, little box, held tightly
to me
during my escape,
so that your delicate tubes do not break;
carried from house to house, from ship to train,
so that my enemies may continue communicating with me
by land and by sea
and even in my bed, to my pain;
the last thing I hear at night, the first when I arise,
recounting their many conquests and my cares,
promise me not to go silent in a sudden
surprise.
Translator's Note: I take Brecht's poem literally. I can imagine him fleeing the Nazis with a radio in his possession, using it to receive the news of their conquests as his litany of cares mounted. Bertolt Brecht 1898-1956 was a major German playwright, poet, novelist, humorist, essayist, theater director and songwriter. Brecht fled Germany in 1933, when Hitler assumed power. A number of Brecht's poems were written from the perspective of a man who sees his country becoming increasingly fascist, xenophobic and militaristic. Keywords/Tags: Holocaust, poem, poems, Bertolt Brecht, German, translation, Germany, radio, tubes, valves, transmission, communication, travel, escape, flight, flying, exile, land, sea, pain, despair, Nazi, conquests, victory, victories, losses, cares, silence, war, World War II
I woke up this morning,
Believe me, I was ready to play.
For those of you
Who are unaware
Today's a gargantuan day.
Electrifying excitement
Alive and in the air.
There's nothing else quite like it
For anyone to compare.
Pine tar, rosin fragrance
And that of fresh cut grass.
The end of the baseball season
Has now come to pass.
Magnificent sound when a baseball
Contact’s a baseball bat.
Completing a walk-off homer
With a doffing of the cap.
The AL meets the NL
In world serious matter.
The loser goes home all alone
Disgraced and completely shattered.
Don't think for a moment
It was all fun and games.
It was a tough and very long season.
Even heartbreaking pain.
There was plenty of travel
Cold and heat.
Upset victories and
Humiliating defeat.
Baserunning blunders
Pitches gone wild.
Tears of joy
While others cried like a child.
Playing for a championship
Is tougher than seems.
Now it has come this
Living a baseball dream.
There were 30 teams that started
Now there are only 2 teams left.
Now we're going to crown the one
Who proves to be the best.
God bless America
Home of the brave and free.
Many gave up everything
For this game..you..and me.
Stand up and remember
Those who have departed.
It's the best of seven series
So let's get this party started.
Let's play ball!