Long Weaponry Poems
Long Weaponry Poems. Below are the most popular long Weaponry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Weaponry poems by poem length and keyword.
My aim was spot on at close range or distant
The coppers were on scene post haste
The sirens were loud and extremely insistent
I gazed at the guns I now faced
Seven patrol cars had screeched to a halt
And tyre marks blackened the floor
Seven patrol cars may well have seemed nought
So the cops sent about fourteen more
The army arrived as the cops took their places
All crouching with guns trained on me
The soldiers wore camo with blackened up faces
The tanks that they brought numbered three
Two choppers were armed with hi-tech weaponry
And hovering just overhead
The super-bright spotlights that beamed down on me
Would fill other felons with dread
The little red dots that appeared on my vest
Meant snipers had me in their sights
Awaiting the order to puncture my chest
So someone could read my last rights
I don’t understand how they got there so fast
I didn’t think I would get caught
It seemed to me one of my neighbours had grassed
They’re not as good friends as I thought
Just then a cop with a gun in one hand
And a loudhailer held in the other
Addressed me like I was the scourge of our land
And I would bring shame to my mother
He said, ‘Just accept that we’ve thwarted your plans
For that's how such villainy goes
So lay that thing down and raise both your hands
And then step away from the hose.’
***
[On 5 August 2022 the Isle of Wight and Hampshire (UK) had a hosepipe ban imposed upon residential water customers. There is a suggestion that neighbours should grass on their neighbours. The fine for daring to water your Zinnias is £1000.]
Whether literal or proverbial,
If you are looking for the devil;
Although I can't imagine why you
would want to. But if for any reason
you may desire to seek an audience with him,
there is a place where you are likely to find him.
I do not think or suppose that he is hiding, but I
am certain that he loves to be in disguise. He is the
master of deception and loves to deceive. In fact,
deception is his greatest, if not the only weapon,
because he has been scripted of all other weaponry.
So, if you are a cover story kind of person, or one
who's prone to summarizing, or a general reader
of life and never bothers with the fine print, you just
might miss recognizing the devil, because he is usually
to be found in the details of life. We had best check the details.
120122PS
The knight in the night fighting off the darkness
A battle to the ultimate submission
Swords aim to cut the opposition deeply
No words spoken, very little transmission
A fierce competition between unafraid warriors
Quitting is not an option for the brave at heart
One on one, the fight seeks no promotion
Darkness proclaimed victory from the very start
Constant banging of weaponry with no signs of stalemate
Dread is on the side of darkness, light resides in the knight
The faith of the world in the balance of two entities
This is what it has come down to, a scurmish, a street fight
Spent Treasure
Julius Caesar desired Brittania
not its tin for soldiers weaponry
but for an island strung with pearls
the rarest and most prized of gems
he would face the channel storms
Caesar’s lust for jewels and gold
with captives sent to plunder banks
shuck icy rivers’ mussel stores
and freeze for gods of vanity
to secure the emperor's fame
a cuirass made of British pearls
he laid on Venus Genetrix
ancestor of the Julian line
holy mother of the Roman state
could tempt a queen into his bed
reserved for the nobility alone
set within crown jewels to come
adornment for Elizabethan gowns
protected now so few remain
it’s rare to find a pearl or humble shell.
Tomorrow comes, and lo and behold
WMD, Weaponry - Middle East stranglehold
Chemical Scuds, conventional too
What will Saddam's madness do.
Visions of - Gulf No 1
Burning wells under our lovely sun
OPEC panic, its not their day
Millions of guns back out to play.
Armada's sailing, many ships
RFA's - make many trips
Tommohawks, 2000 pounders
Shake the earth, humans thunder
Tommo's screech across the sky
Where they land, there's sure to die
The innocents will have their say
As Western Arnaments have their play.
Journalists report on the horrors of war
What the Hell are we fighting for
A barrel of Oil, a bucket of sand
Its not a reality i can understand.
Coalition forces encroach on cities
Where Saddam's men showed no pity
These were his people, they should be alive
As all countries, should live and thrive.
His previous demean, to his Children and men
Like gassed Basra, deathly den
Chemical Ali, on the order of he
Dispicable happenings, in their own country.
Bagdad, capital of mythical age
Bruised and battered by modern rage
Rockets and bullets falling like rain
Killing and maiming, screams of pain.
BBC, Fox News - CNN
Reporting whats right, is it right for them
Troops a searching, for the reasons there their
Weapons of MAD, who actually cares.
Hidden away in deserts of sand
Chemical weapons, poisonous glands
Scud launchers, with conventional heads
Israeli people, cant sleep in their beds
What gives Iraqis, some Arabs too
To do the things, we see they do
Is it scriptures past, transcribed through the years
Now on our doorsteps, forgotten fears.
Through CIA Intellegence in 2002
Drew the path, US troops move through
Down the gun barreled highway, enemies so few
Insurgents not many, taken out as they do
Abrahams spray, thier bullets so fair
To take down the Guard, who should stop us there.
Invasion in place, Marco Polo would say
Like Hanibal, they all have their day
Should they be here, in our country i say
Where will they be tomorrow, i can only pray.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war.php
The bright royal metal gets a reverent treat,
Heated and beaten softly in several ways till
The beloved, pampered design comes up;
While the weaponry one has a different destiny,
Burnt and hammered rudely with no scrutiny ;
Then the upshot is for uncertain use put up;
The former always adds more to the usual skill
As the latter is destined, it's modest end to meet;
True it is that the one defends and serves hard
But the other is only dicey, needing good guard
The crux of time decides the claim to real regard
A tool in need marvels more than the one starred..!
The deeds and words of show spire somehow
Yet a needful , timely aid towers much above.
There's a rumor going around. Mythical little
Stocky men called Dwarves are living in Gem
Mountain.
They're mining jewels of all kinds down below.
Heard tell they're exceptionally skilled in the art
Of Smith metal working steel which explains all
The extra trains.
Now according to legend their weaponry was
The best to obtain.
They're stuff was beautifully hand crafted and
Decorated with jewels that were primo.
There's a rumor going around. Mythical little
Stocky men called Dwarves are living in Gem
Mountain.
The Dwarves made magical weaponry through
A vein
Of mithril put in to metal that is getting harder
To find that will flow.
Heard tell they're exceptionally skilled in the art
Of Smith metal working steel which explains all
The extra trains.
When mithril is found it is harder to get it to
Drain.
Yet, once harvested it can be refined and
Readied to go.
There's a rumor going around. Mythical little
Stocky men called Dwarves are living in Gem
Mountain.
The magical weapons made from mithril puts
Off a blue glow when orcs are near. If used It's
A butane causing pain in their domain
Like many many years ago.
Heard tell Dwarves are exceptionally skilled in
The art of Smith metal working steel which
explains all the extra trains
Along with all the new jewelry chains
And knives that now have combos stamped
with Dwarf cameos.
There's a rumor going around. Mythical little
Stocky men called Dwarves are living in Gem
Mountain.
Heard tell they're exceptionally skilled in the art
Of Smith metal working steel which explains all
The extra trains.
the end safety
No modern weaponry can stop this brutal onslaught.
The Med is far from here, where the Atlantic breeze is cooling
we who do not travel watch the fire with awe
Further afield, people have too much water and drown and
become refugees trying to find a safe place.
Are there any safe places left?
Those who think their country is secure will not share
it with the driftwood coming to their shores.
California is burning villas made of timber as matchboxes
For the rich to feel the heat, does it make them kinder?
Of course, it has nothing to do with us who live
where the breeze from the North Atlantic is cooling.
In this time of life, the pandemic is just the beginning
of a total breakdown of the world we knew, the day may
come when Outer Mongolia is a relatively safe place to go
as it has no flooding to speak of but has plenty of drugs
to pass the time while waiting for a fire to reach us.
Eidolon, eigne, eirenicon.
Message of peace to read at dawn.
Battlefield, fallen weaponry.
O wasp and hornet, sting swiftly.
Sciomancer, silent shades, sly.
Scissure, red fissure, scorify.
Melt down to slag and fragment fast.
Difficult? Drag it home, good ghast.
Scutiform, scruple, scrivello.
Elephant, lower tusk and go.
Aim at the vital regions? Choice.
Lachrymose legions, raise thy voice.
Prisoner, panopticon. Doom.
Volcanic lava, foul thy fume.
Inferno, corner and hem in!
Tornado, typhoon, terrapin!
Butyric, byre? Buteonine?
Bring on the buzzards. Rain, O rhine.
Rhinoceros, radicolous?
Roots fair to floss? Fain. Glitter gloss.
Katabothron, thy channels vast.
Deep underground resounds the blast.
Explosives kept beneath the soil.
O witches' cauldron, hot thy boil.
Blackening soot, blackberries sweet.
Crumble away, earth, 'neath our feet.
Fortune and Fate, the falcon flew.
Entropy, chaos, discord, due.
Mycelial bodies, mushroom.
Thunderbolt, sound the hand of doom.
Oddities here and curios.
Sweltering sun ray, how heat flows.
Very strange is the world we're in.
Weird to the ear, the eye, the skin.
Faces in pictures, half deranged.
From God and reason both, estranged.
REVELATION OF A STALKER
my daughter brought her stalker date
i watched him closely...my eyes penetrate
like a bloodhound, my nose to heels
he feels my presence in the revolving door
he’d call when she wasn’t home
just to hear my voice upon the phone
i told her to make it very clear
to cut him loose without a tear
he tried to penetrate her heart
to fill the chambers with goosebump art
with saran wrap clarity a mama knows
she follows each precarious footfall
he crept into our night with his stalker coat
the leather long, foreboding weaponry
a stalker tells his tale straight up
“Some people are scared of me”
with a heart of gold, my daughter hearkened
to this mother’s knowledge of good and evil
we stomped out the fire, until it was cold
removed the ash, buried it, eyes shut tight
11/10/2017
Silent One’s Stalker Contest