Long Warsweet Poems
Long Warsweet Poems. Below are the most popular long Warsweet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Warsweet poems by poem length and keyword.
The Creed
A crested lark rises in to the window
In the bittersweet rendezvous of a vow,
And my fear passes,
For it is in the free fall of our landing,
its chord colliding into the road,
The sweet sovereignty of a caged bird freed.
He is bold, an arulean flame,
The black phoenix with piercing gold eyes,
As to look into the soul of Man, by the
Whisper of his name.
There is a call to port, the sound of muster.
It is not a sledge,
not a call of arms, or clash of titans,
but a brother in arms, and rather,
the confident laugh of a comrade.
He is mighty, a strengthened arm,
The flame of the Red Cross with piercing blue eyes,
As to hear into the word of Man, by the
Mention of his name.
There is gold in the sky, and at our feet.
It is a sledge,
a selection, a broken arrow,
a burned statue, a torched flag.
It is a fallen hero.
There is an ominous sound of defeat, the sound of silence,
It is a sledge,
A call to pay tribute, or to triumph as titans
A beautiful, soldier of arms fallen, and rather,
my might is strengthened.
But my boots are worn,
Of a previous bunk assignment
and its barrack mate,
And my uniform is disheveled
For they were my fathers
And his father’s father of late.
Her tongue is short,
Petty in its manner
as a a cruel schoolgirl’s is to do,
And she is the crisp April tide,
Surging forward with my frame,
In a slumber within the waves of its wake.
For, Liberty, she is resonance, the strength of my voice,
The trinity of its oath with piercing gold eyes,
As to resound the will of Man, by the
Mention of his name.
And the tyrant, like the first rogue of its origin falls,
The metal barricade falls, the rod upon its mortar,
And as the crown falls from its coronate,
The line runs along the narrow corridor of tyranny's exile,
And in all of its combustion,
The sweet sovereignty of freedom reigns of the tyrant defied
And of the uncaged psalm freed, our creed at last,
rising and falling to the air.
For, I am the unfallen, not once that which once was,
-but that which will rise to fight again
for I am the oath of triumph.
Harry (written by Steven Cooke)
He stairs through the window
In wheelchair he knows,
Gabriel is just a pause behind him.
His last duty, to open a door in his mind
Of memories torn from 1917, where he left,
Jack Fred and Bert, Pals forever.
A moment singled out from a thousand days of torment
Bully Beef, Baccy and sweet tea in the Morning.
A pair of socks from a loved one,
And friendship forged in the baptism of War.
These were his treasures, His only relief
Then the guns of Britannia, manufacturing widows by the gross, as
Gas and Shell screamed for their quota of today’s carcass.
For a moment Harry felt sadness for his foe
Then it was gone
No time,
Heart Beating, Breath quickening, Stomach in Knots,
Fear held in check to avoid the Officer’s gun,
No time left, Stay Close Jack, Fred glanced,
While Bert squeezed a locket around his neck
A quick nod, The Soldiers farewell
Then the whistle, Gabriel’s Horn, over the top
His refuge abandoned, for the embrace of the fog,
It masked the land, as if to avoid offending God
Slowly creeping its vale of death,
Gun in hand they walked into the grey.
Fodder for the Machine gun, No defense, we fall.
Once more our lads are summoned into oblivion.
There blood sanitizing the soil with England’s youth
Like a red carpet, for their comrades to walk the next day.
Then the retreat, back to his rat infested trench
Gods reward he thought,
Then Role call, Silence for Jack, Silence for Fred, and Silence for Bert
Harry felt shame in answering, for a second; he too wanted to embrace silence with
his pals.
But Soldiers must go on, as do the righteous
And England expects
For I fight for a Heavenly cause, so I’m told,
Though I do not know what that is
All I know is fear
Although this impostor, I can live with
You see my friends are gone;
My humanity is lost
And my soul awaits its next trial
Is it a blessing that I am alive or,
Just a delay,
For death stalks me, waiting for his reward.
My sanity saved only by the sweet tea and a ***,
Dry socks, and a letter or two from home.
No time for sentiment, the whistle,
Memories, memories.
Oh, there you are Gabriel welcome.
Hello lads where you been.
Form:
Standing on this eternal plane
As I lift my fears above my head, normality I feign
Mid-Air, I hold no resistance
Flying high, superior to every existance
Hovering, floating, lifted by my mentality
Losing my grip on reality
Gliding, eye'm floating, in the clouds.
Atoms clash, thunder surrounds
Ignited by a bolt of electricty.
Will I descend below atop my knee?
Quite contrary, I feel the urge to be.
This insane persistance transcends reality.
Reguvinated by my inherant vim
Everyone will gather, I will looke down upon them
An angel in the storm,
to gaze upon the cloud, my glowing form
When did I shift from human to this
It was the lull of sweet bliss
Remember, it was the enticing beat
of the eternal drum, seducing me, transformation complete
Manipulated by the toying spirit
Locked in my head, my voice altered, hear it
Manipulate the mindless swine, heard them
Lead them out to the pool, see if they swim.
You will lead the war, it speaks to me,
in an eternal voice that sets the decree.
Countless horrers of war and famine
flashing before my eyes, the greed of men
show them, it urges.
Punish them with impunity, rage surges
through my veins, boils my blood
forgetting to breath through the flood.
Countless minsless drones assemble before me
To lead the war, a great duty
I am aware, you thought not?
That my spirit was broken, my body to rott.
No, I realize this spirit, this demon
tries to control my mind
overthrouwing this mighty apparition
I assume the power, that is my divine right
Begin to train and condition
My soldiers to fight
To rule the world with love and pride
No longer having to run and hide
Peace, serinity
and sweet, sweet tranquility.
But alas, th cycle must bein anew
Oh yes, it starts again, as if on "q".
Form: