Long Warriors Poems
Long Warriors Poems. Below are the most popular long Warriors by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Warriors poems by poem length and keyword.
Beneath the ocean's veiled expanse,
Where death's jaws in darkness dance,
Human spirit, explorer's flame,
Seeks conquest, building its name.
When the sea calls out its plea,
Hope and fear blend fervently,
Within its depths, a revelation lies,
Where hearts are bared, on daring tries.
Our feet have tread the solid ground,
Yet yearn to conquer seas profound,
Driven by questions that ignite,
A quest that sets our souls alight.
Death claims both warriors bold,
On battlefields and waters cold,
In a pill, they delved through sea's divide,
Never to return to the world they left behind.
(c) Ayinla Muyideen
for those who lost their lives in the OceanGate Submersible
Inspiring coffins side by side they lay
Cemeteries are old, eerie, and so beautiful to me today
Walking amongst the tombstones - I feel a calm peace
Of how bad these souls want so desperately again to breathe
Semicircles of magickal pixie dusts
Forever I believed you had my full trusts
But I guess you didn't feel the same
Riding into the sunset - forgetting my name
Midnight to Witching Hour I walk beside the dead
It's only scary if you imagine them as still being beautiful in your head
The dead need guidance, love, friendship, compassion, and interaction too
That's why you take it as a flattering invitation when they choose to walk among you
The loneliest of spirits - they will not rest
They'd rather walk in their lonely, invisible silence - I'd suggest
But I'm sure they get a calmness - a love from you too
When you're the only understanding living soul who can help them not to be blue
Twisted catacombs of the dead lining the ancient stone walls
Sarcophagus of skeleton warriors lie peacefully in the Veteran's Halls
The graveyard of the pasts, pick up my empty life
So I become friends with the dead because it's right
With utmost respect, I tiptoe through their final resting place homes
Every spirit knows every other phantom, spirit, or ghost
And every spirit, phantom, and ghost knows that the mundane witch like me
Can make the lonely, angry, lost and frightened spirits happy even in eternity
I'll read to them, speak to them, respect them and then you'll begin to see
That the more you gain rapport & acceptance to them -
The more they ain't ever gonna let the evil entities ever come close to me
The worlds of our ancestors remain at war.
I saw this endless misery on an old globe,
where battles and front lines, though faint,
bled into blood-red delineations
where borders trafficked the endless dead.
I spread an historical map,
saw the suffering of much minuscule life,
wounded bodies charging or retreating,
body parts everywhere; a Lilliputian carnage,
yet loud enough to end any tune
in a songbird's throat
Old warriors returned again and again
as young men,
the mark of an early death
already seared across their foreheads,
their eyes flashing, reflecting
a world long buried
in mounds of bloody yesterdays,
and red stained tomorrows.
Then I overheard
(horror upon horror),
the yet unborn,
screaming
they were like
little birds
on fire.
Spherical drums caressed by skins of buffalo
Stretched to their limits large on hollowed wood
Beat out with thunder, the heartbeat of the Earth
Define the universe, the breath of God's creation
Strong men whisper while horses bow their heads
Winds take them away on freshly fallen snow
Peyote hallucinations die with Indian nations
Whittled down to nothing in the cold
Red Feather in his soft moccasins steps lightly
Dances the ancestral dance of sadness to the sand
Costumed and covered in plumage colored bright
Women and children cry out their song
In a trance about the glowing embers fired
Days gone, lives lost, on prairie and desert lands
Eagles climb high before they reach the heavens
Away from the red man, they fly off to find God
Before the weather worsens
A chant continues in the dark
For braves who lost their lives
Former warriors pray for warmth
A bottle of whiskey and remorse
An arrow pierces every heart
We fear a three
Letter word...
GOD
A powerful king -
That even Heaven
Itself greets Him
By bowing down
In royal robes of
Pure white
As He walks among
Those who He Himself
Calls His angels of light
He gives them guidance
To go out into the world
Where the enemies traps
Await those who are unsaved
He sends his finest
Warriors to go and
Save those who
Has been mislead
By the enemies wicked
And evil ways of living
He then wraps them
In His love and show
Them the right way
Of how to live their
Lives...
Sinless
The unsaved
Become the saved
The weakened
Become the strong
And the lies...
The lies have been forgotten
The past has
Been written off
for the Lord Himself
Took the fall for their
Sins
The enemy is no
Match for this
King...
He too fears the
The one that
We call
GOD
Form:
Some people have a reassuring smile
Always at ready no matter the time
Regardless of untold things on their minds--
They're the street-lamps burning all night
Comfort rules when they come around
For grief and pain then remain at bay
And aches of the night retreat in awe--
They're the dawn that illuminates dark
Answers they find when questions storm
They hold a sign when someone's lost
And when they speak, that becomes the norm--
They're the phrases wisdom is made of
Flowers in the midst of desert lands
A rain shower soothing in prolonged drought
Hope on the faces of distressed hearts--
They're the strength of weakened hands
Never confused between right and wrong
How they act mirrors the way they talk
Magic or special powers they don't have--
They're the goodwill of human hearts
July 10, 2020
Placed 2nd: Warrior poetry contest by Silent One
She is perfect.
At least, that is what they say.
Talk, Walk, Speak, Breath
She must be perfect
But perfect acts as an illusion.
A mere child, raised among warriors,
must teach herself softness
the way others learn survival.
But before she even understood love,
someone handed her a prophecy
and called it her future.
Scolded into perfection,
she tried to be gentle, tried to be kind
but those actions are useless when the world
keeps asking for strength instead.
She tried to smile,
tried to imagine what her life would look like
if she'd been allowed to choose her own destiny.
A woman.
Not a symbol.
Not a paradox, not a doll, not their puppet.
And so, when the moment came,
and the stars opened up to her,
she welcomed it with open arms.
The Avengers, her light,
small but steady.
She finds her own courage,
takes it and blooms.
She is Mantis.
She is the Celestial Madonna.
And her future, is now in her own hands.
Brave are the knights and their mounts,
to face hates abominations,
many of them were falling,
under the weight of Hell, they fell.
Still, we see many standing,
they fight on with such angry power,
It seemed they would not stand for long,
honour kept them in the fight.
The knights did surely need rest,
some began to sway under enemy strength,
the heavy armour was sapping them,
Only power of spirit held them aloft.
Many fell within their armour,
without heads, arms, legs and heads,
Still, look how their weapons bite home,
the enemy are falling.
Behind the main units of foot,
some men stood, not seeming in the battle,
these warriors ran to the right,
they formed into a unit as they ran.
These, those souls who had run from the field, earlier,
fear seemed to have left them now,
they formed on the right flank,
fully formed they looked a sorry site.
Forward they did march,
pride swelling within them again,
they marched straight up the right,
look at them now and wonder,
someone yelled, "Forward,"
this rag-tag unit was off,
the unit ran towards the enemy,
each man ready to die for Alahsar.
Now, all the first knights were in the battle,
they thought like the red,
once more they fought for the life of Alahsar,
they thought with love's desire.
As they did run into battle,
can we see the golden gates open?
Yes, the great golden gates do open.
A golden warrior is seen.
it is the golden king,
from gold rode gold,
with the golden king rode the royal guard,
out they came at a charge.
200 of Alahsar's best followed the king,
this was the last card played,
they rode onto Badicha,
the earth thundered below them.
Now Badicha was filled with knights,
enemies, warriors and spiritual beings,
this was the final fight for existence,
No more forces could be called on.
It was truly to the end,
the fate of the world in one monumental moment,
the right flank might soon crack,
terror was in many eyes.
The wolves were indeed a terror,
they had no fear,
their mouths ever ready to rend,
blood and saliva dripping from their mouths.
Their claws ever ready to tear,
they could rip through armour,
the wolves could give forth a terrible death,
yet this death had to be faced.
To Be Continued..........
I once was your Armageddon, your mystic legend
Times we argued, realized it was foolish and grinned
Times we laughed, time is a luxury we do not have
Let us old hands old man
The lady beside you, she sang a beautiful tune
The things we don’t want to lose
The loved ones we hate, similar to the above sons mate
The people we want to please
Those we set a perfect yet fragile image
Only to be later ceased
Precious moments we so desperately want to keep
Shh! You speak as though you’re never coming back
But I will not return, best wishes, Ur angel of sadness
I’m a survivor
I work miracles, I was yours
I was everything and nothing anyone would care for
I am still your Armageddon, your mystic legend
My objectives to make you laugh, smile, and mourn
Your rapture, warriors of eternity, a child lost and torn
Mission suffered massive failure
Let us hold hands this final hour
For your misery is ours
You can say you loved him
You can say you placed no other above him
Despite how it sounds
The individual will everyone around him
Is the loneliest person around
In memory of those whom titled him “Angel of Sadness”
I am from the black earthen pot behind my grandmothers burnt brick store
That springs cold water in and out of season for thirsty souls to drink
I am from pounded yam with melon soup, garnished with mutton
I am from huge greenery with strong and well rooted trees and oceans of rain
Whose backyard is filled with grasses and shrubs much taller than the fences built to protect the houses
I am from the yellow hibiscus, the sunny and cheery daffodils
I am from the Ifa legendary clan
The descendants of Oduduwa, that great servant of Eludumare
I am from the great Sasere dynasty, men of pride and loyalty
I am from the proud households of great Lords, that stand only for the truth
Great warriors who fought for just cause
The stubborn impregnable optimists
I am from the heart of men loyal to Ifa
The great deity whose prayers-
Eludumare never fails to answer
I am from the womb of the great woman who defied science
And fought cancer head on bravely for years, though lost the battle
Opened up hope for others fighting the same battles
I am from broken bones and crumbling gold
I am Adeshina, the son of Aladeshawe
From the Ancient Yoruba land of Owo.
Adeshina Aladeshawe- December 2018