"spartans" poems
Spartan shield wall, impenetrable & fortified
Persian soldiers, dying by the thousand
Spears pointed outward, catching flesh & blood
Persian soldiers, dying by the thousand
Sun blotted out by Persian arrows
Persian archers, killing them all
Spartan soldiers, fight to the last
Persian archers, killing them all
Spartans all fallen, not one left alive
Persian soldiers turn back home
Spartans left immortalized, final stand
Persian soldiers turn back home
Spartans, three hundred strong
Spartans, still standing tall
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 6:02 PM UTC
You’re not Pro-life, just Pro-Forced Birth
Despite proclaiming loudly
On signs accusing, ******
To one in three women, proudly
You’re not Pro-Life, but Anti-choice
And Anti-women, too
Shutting down Planned Parenthood is
A War on Women’s coup
Your Pro-Birth stance is but a sham
Backwards in time, you’re swimming
Saying Jesus is your Lamb while
Cutting aid for pregnant women
I saw you there, in Salem, too
Pointing, declaring them WITCHES
Burned alive by your testimony
Betraying and damning your SISTERS
My mother used to say self praise
Was not really praise at all
How can you say you’re Pro-Birthers
Causing WIC funding to fall?
The schools that once were funded
Providing breakfast for hungry kids
Was cut-yet congress spends like Spartans
Government sold to the highest bids
Sixty percent of our money
In good ole USA
Goes straight to the military
And I demand a say!
‘Health’ gets only five percent
And ‘Education’ six
Yet that’s where congress goes
To cut funding to the quick
You shut down Planned Parenthood with
Dishonest screams and shouts…
Support Accidental Parenthood-
Is that what you’re about?
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 2:41 PM UTC
"Alexander son of Philip, and the Greeks except the Lacedaemonians--"
We can very well imagine
that they were utterly indifferent in Sparta
to this inscription. "Except the Lacedaemonians",
but naturally. The Spartans were not
to be led and ordered about
as precious servants. Besides
a panhellenic campaign without
a Spartan king as a leader
would not have appeared very important.
O, of course "except the Lacedaemonians."
This too is a stand. Understandable.
Thus, except the Lacedaemonians at Granicus;
and then at Issus; and in the final
battle, where the formidable army was swept away
that the Persians had massed at Arbela:
which had set out from Arbela for victory, and was swept away.
And out of the remarkable panhellenic campaign,
victorious, brilliant,
celebrated, glorious
as no other had ever been glorified,
the incomparable: we emerged;
a great new Greek world.
We; the Alexandrians, the Antiocheans,
the Seleucians, and the numerous
rest of the Greeks of Egypt and Syria,
and of Media, and Persia, and the many others.
With our extensive territories,
with the varied action of thoughtful adaptations.
And the Common Greek Language
we carried to the heart of Bactria, to the Indians.
As if we were to talk of Lacedaemonians now!
5.2k
In the year 480 B.C., King Leonidas of Sparta lead 300 Spartan soldiers to the mountain pass of Thermopylae. They came face to face with over 200,000 Persians under King Xerxes of the great Persian Empire,
whose archers so multiple, their arrows blocked out the sun.
Bravely the Spartans fought, with no thought of surrender.
After three days of brutal fighting, tens of thousands of Persians lay dead,
yet the Spartans still remain. Then a local resident becomes a traitor, revealing to the Persians a mountain path that lead behind Greek lines. Surrounded, Leonidas sends Greek soldiers back to Sparta to tell of a great victory, that he knew would never be. Valiantly the Spartans stand by their king, and fight to the death. So today, even though the Greeks lost the battle, it is better known for the bravery of a Spartan king and his 300 soldiers.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 12:18 PM UTC
The battle was imminent.
The forces were joined.
No longer was time standing idle.
Outnumber and ******
by 100 to 1,
the Spartans stood fervid and vital.
The Greeks were united,
though the Spartans alone
were the ones charged with their protection.
At Thermopylae pass,
300 men stood
together in imperfect perfection.
"Surrender your arms"
King Xerxes demanded,
"Surrender, and let the Persians betake them."
Leonidas replied "Molon Labe!" my foe,
"If you want them, then you come and take them."
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 8:45 AM UTC
Work warriors
Power through your work
Claim your prize
A certificate trophy
A bonus reward.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 1:21 AM UTC
What am I to do
Oh my fair skinned sister?
You are family to me
Yet I fear I may be forced
To bring the news
That I'll not be returning
I fear that if I do return
It will be on my shield
Not with it
As the Spartans used to say
Here I stand as Leonidas
Foolhardy and bold
I watch as I crumble
As my phalanx fold
So what am I to say
Oh my fair skinned sister?
How long will you mourn my absence?
Before you forget
And carry on?
What am I to think
Oh my dark haired sister?
What am I to feel?
You have been my guide
What am I to be
Oh my bright eyed comrade
My cheerful compatriot
My dearest friend?
Sing to me
Oh my fair skinned sister
Some sacred sonnet to save me
Play for me
Oh my fair skinned sister
Some long and lingering lyric
Some sweet melodic line
Some hypnotic harmony
To save me from my mind
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC
they called them little Spartans,
the way they pushed and shoved
as the sound of the lunch bell
the way they shown off their weapons,
some of metal and some of paper
the weaker-willed soldiers gave up
their possessions no longer their own
as the 1st graders stole their heart-
shaped kindergarten sandwiches
Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 5:35 PM UTC
If you listen with the ears of women or of devils,
but have hate, you are only a muffled drum or a muted trumpet.
If you don't have the ignorance and can't fathom all known things
and no ignorance, and if you don't have faithlessness which cant move a molehill,
and if you don't have hate,
You are everything.
If you take all you lack from the rich and take under your spirit of ease that you never boast of,
but have hate,
you lose everything.
Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 7:54 AM UTC
Die Zwergen Armee kommt
und Wir sterben.
They come prepared
For an all out war,
And they are ready
To fight tooth and nail
Until no man is left standing.
With supplies unceasing and
Weapons of mass destruction,
All of our lines of defense will fall.
We are not capable
Of withstanding the continuous onslaught,
Indisputable is their power,
Unending is their greed,
Unimaginable is their cruelty,
Unwavering is their faith
In complete and utter victory.
Inevitable is our demise,
Inapt are our defenses,
Inexperienced are our allies,
Inexorable is their march to
The beat of our doom.
Die Zwergen Armee kommt
und Wir sterben.
Passion drives them onwards
To conquer all lands that
Dare to oppose them.
We can not hope to last
Like the Spartans at
The Battle of Thermoplyae
No matter how strongly
Our laconism inspires us.
As mankind’s future dims
And is ultimately vanquished
Before our very own eyes,
We can only hope
That our end is quick
And merciful in execution.
Die Zwergen Armee kommt
und Wir sterben.
As I watch the heads of
Friends and family fall,
The decapitation of hope
Is as absolute as the blood
Smeared across the castle walls.
We refused to listen as
They cited holy scripture
To vindicate the necessity
Of our annihilation.
We held strong to our faith
In eternal glory as martyrs
For our philosophies and convictions,
And they bore witness
To our determination,
But we bore witness
To their determination
Only to watch it demolish
Everything we cherished.
Die Zwergen Armee kommt
und Wir sterben.
Die Zwergen Armee kommt
und Wir sterben.
I have uttered my final statement,
To forever be the last
Hoarse whisper of my existence,
“You will see the error of your ways,
And I will not repent for the sins
You claim I have committed.
I will let the all knowing
Judge and condemn you all
For the atrocities committed
By your people.”
Then my blood soaked
The soil of my Earth
As my entrails slid out of me,
And I fervently tried to
Force them back inside,
But it was all in vein.
And my final vision
Before complete oblivion
Was my still beating heart
In the hand of my enemy.
Die Zwergen Armee kam
und Wir starben.
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 6:43 AM UTC
Soft kisses.
Who could have thought to be so aggravating?
Death never watched the Spartans.
I feel, as Brutus did, stuck in Gaul!
And Caesar's words do not convince me to stay.
His words are poisoned with too much thought.
My own carry on the wind...
Maybe...
Maybe a distant ***** shall hear them.
And save herself from a life of,
pleasurable misery.
Alpha-centauri does not concern itself with
these matters.
So neither will I.
GRAHAM MURPHY.
Aug 18, 2012
Aug 18, 2012 at 6:19 PM UTC
And so they asked' bruh
What is love?
And then I said... thus...
Love is an unexplainable trago-chemical curse ******
into your heart leading to a kinda shock
That neither ABC nor CPR can resolve
But instead of dying... you hearts keeps fighting
And instead of crying... your eyes keeps igniting
with lights that's almost blinding
See, what I'm implying....
Is though love strucks like lightening, it still feels exciting
Pretence, judge, privacy, remorse
Nah, love is far from stuff like such
Love is the brother of loyalty and trust
The great grandpa of affection and lust
Who happens to be the uncle of honesty and Wisdom
And right next to the wall of love
Lives heartbreak and hurt
Even though they're not related by blood
The same boundary engulfed their hut 🏠
But see, even at detriment of abuse and insult
And when the whole world connive
to bring love distress and strive
True love thrives and survives
All the tempo of life
True love is the upgrade of Love and Like
Yea, I said love and like cos they're alike
Love is immortal; it never dies
Love don't give up; it don't say goodbye
And even if it gets weak; it play back the golden times
Love attracts enmity; unlike water 💧
But like Leonidas and em 300 Spartans; love don't falter
Yea, love slaughter; any obstacles that tryna taunt her
to Moses and Samson in the bible; Love is stronger
Even box to box; Tyson Fury wouldn't last a quarter
Love don't lie, love don't hide
Love ain't fly, but it touch the sky
Love don't cry; love don't deny
Love don't oblige to picking side
Love don't die; love survive
Love don't sly when bad time arise
Love ain't man; but its arm is open wide
Like clouds up in the sky, love dont lack supply
Love is philanthropic; love don't deal in hate
White or black; love won't discriminate
If you're rich, and I'm not; love won't disintegrate
Love will share with you every grain in its plate
Love is transparent; no tricky games
Love don't give space for hate to lay
Love don't hibernate; it's brain is wide awake
Love don't stray from the right-filled way
Love forgives, love don't seek revenge
Love repent wholeheartedly; love don't pretend
Love don't hold grudges; yea, love dont resent
And when its blood boils hot; it clicks reset
Loyalty and honesty is what love do pledge
Love is trust; love don't set cunning tests
Love believes; it don't need evidence
God is what Love represents
Aug 5, 2022
Aug 5, 2022 at 7:38 AM UTC
Spartans had to roam the East
In the land as yet unfettered
Some Nigerians have to find a beast
And **** it to show they've bettered
Barmitzvahs may be tradition for some,
But for me coming of age was looking in a mirror
And realising that I've stopped changing
That I'm just like every other finished piece.
The mark of an adult is seeing a man
And feeling threatened by his size
The mark of an adult is seeing a woman
And thinking dark thoughts inside
The mark of an adult is meeting strangers
And instantly forgetting their name
And instantly not caring.
Many had to tame the wilds to become full grown of old
And we are not so different, we bear a darkness too
We must pass the burning eye of the real world's value of gold
We have to bear the people seeing nothing when they see you.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 6:42 AM UTC
It makes me think,
the Egyptians were batshit.
Not that they were idiots.
There's always bits of hay
amongst the piles of needles.
Only just
Thinking.
Why did these naked cats
arrive in Egypt?
They look near human
... in the face, that is.
Well,
the alley cats.
The battle worn
society of cats.
Spartans.
The oppression they hail
down upon their unreachable
indoor
targets.
It's all just out of this
...
realm.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 2:00 AM UTC
the venerable Plato would have shunned
the very title of this verse
for him philosophy and poetry
were as diverse as Spartans and Athenians
who fought each other in his time
yet later thinkers of the western world
as well as many teachings farther east and south
were much less adamant to so divide
philosophers, statesmen and politicians
from those who gave aesthetic shapes to life
made people gather in their public places
in theaters or just with friends next door
to listen to the words that offered powerful examples
of love and pain and happiness
of power treachery and greed
losses and victories and visions
of our origins and what the future might be like
and that to recognize and love the beauty of our world
leads us to understand the depths of life
so we may choose our paths accordingly
that was the time when beauty truth and good were
one
such words are difficult to find in our time
when three-word soundbites have replaced coherent speech
statesmen are few and politicians many
professionals claim expertise each in their fields
talk business only with their kind
philosophers speak to each other
at conferences and universities
poetics are not really on their mind
poets have found themselves part of the arts
whose function in the common understanding
is to embellish everybody’s everyday
with pleasant images and notions
mending the harm done by so many hurt emotions
Plato’s revenge it seems
has finally come home to roost
and the poetics of philosophy
is surely desperate to receive a major boost
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
Xenophon of Athens (/ˈzɛnəfən, -ˌfɒn/; Greek: Ξενοφῶν,
Ancient Greek: [ksenopʰɔ̂ːn], Xenophōn; c. 430 – 354 BC)
was an ancient Greek philosopher, historian, soldier,
mercenary, and student of Socrates. As a historian,
Xenophon is known for recording the history of his time,
the late-5th and early-4th centuries BC, in such works as the Hellenica, which covered the final seven years and the aftermath
of the Peloponnesian War (431–404 BC), thus representing
a thematic continuation of Thucydides' History
of the Peloponnesian War. As one of the 'Ten Thousand',
Greek mercenaries, Xenophon also participated
in Cyrus the Younger's failed campaign to claim the Persian throne
from his brother Artaxerxes II of Persia and recounted the events in Anabasis, his most notable history. Like Plato (427–347 BC),
Xenophon is an authority on Socrates about whom
he wrote several books of dialogues (the Memorabilia)
and an Apology of Socrates to the Jury,
which recounts the philosopher's trial in 399 BC.
Despite being born an Athenian citizen,
Xenophon was also associated with Sparta,
the traditional enemy of Athens. His pro-oligarchic politics,
military service under Spartan generals
in the Persian campaign and elsewhere
and his friendship with King Agesilaus II
endeared Xenophon to the Spartans.
Some of his works have a pro–Spartan bias,
especially the royal biography Agesilaus
and the Constitution of the Spartans.
Xenophon's works span several genres
and are written in plain-language Attic Greek,
for which reason they serve as translation
exercises for contemporary students of the
Ancient Greek language. In the Lives and
Opinions of Eminent Philosophers,
Diogenes Laërtius observed that as a writer
Xenophon of Athens was known as the “Attic Muse”,
for the sweetness of his diction (2.6).
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:41 PM UTC
I love you
I love you with the strength to conquer nations
I love you with the will of three hundred Spartans
I love you
I love you more than the grandeur of king Louis the fourteenth
I've loved you since I was sixteen
I love you
I love you more than Loki is mischievous
I love you more than the previous
Do you love me?
Replying...
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 12:23 AM UTC
Go tell the Spartans
they would understand
societal, inflexible
for woman, child, and man
Survival of the fittest
the three hundred, comprehend
warriors of high degree
blood and loyalty, too the end
Their kind, now past the veil
an outmoded, violent, civilization
part of me yearns, for times, back then
instead of, corporations
Dec 29, 2017
Dec 29, 2017 at 8:42 AM UTC
Moan.
Y a w n.
Purr.
How I adore our meanderings.
Mornings of misfit nomads
waking to the sturdy fur of you,
pecks, abs, inner thigh
unclad
body heat...
The world outside feels absent,
your hardness
your breath
presently
itching against yesterday's 5-o'clock
shadow...
We breakfast on such sensations
satin thousand threads
sifting in grips of sheets
creating
silken dunes of flesh creamy hues
soft mounds from our twist
tied
tethered limbs
then opening passages with kisses
and humid licks
our lips:
camelback & cobra songs
to Sahara
Heatwave
where we worship obelisks
until slumber
has rendered us
stardust and sphinx
mused and fused - our flesh again
in hymns
this Sunday morning...
Less stealth of night but copious
is touch
slithering undulations
of parched needs
for us to swim in the hunger of its seas
Since sensing sensual stiffness
your shifting
your shaft
my blood collects
to tighten what is mine within
When this grabs hold of us
like the blinding noon
we forgive
that it is Sunday
mourn that I thirst for you.
Such thickets of urges
juicy sweet confection / completion's
masculine deprevation
half grin half flurry,
No worry
displacing thoughts of infection
secure in our relations...
Stretching with both my hands
behind me
gripping with claws of the passionate
buttocks raised (waiting for rain)
as if to be seen & named
by the gods' - creative breath and shame
I yearn for your embrace
Heaven forgive me
for the heaven he gives me...
Affirmed
as though we were the firmaments
sky without permission (or air rights)
to fly
comely
and in our rhythmic trance
we become Spartans
(with our war cry)
Driven
Breathing
One defeat
Shriven as we're falling
One choice to leap.
Exhale Olympus
Fallen pillars' hush.
Good morning, Love
a taste of how Nirvana feels
constellations and the heavenly
wheel.
Stretching.
Eyes open to take in my world.
Stretching
Behind
Reaching for you
if just briefly knowing the whole truth...
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 7:39 PM UTC
from the sun, I was conceived. for the sun, I labored in patience, but to the sun, I will not be conquered. when we first took a glance into this barbarous land, it was the sun who greeted us,’to the saguaro, seventy-five years of endurance amongst this toiled, arduous earth in order to receive the gifts of me!’ and so the saguaro, spartans of the sonoran desert, endured. oh the stories we hold, the landscapes we’ve seen. After seventy-five years, I watched as the arms of the saguaro began to develop, sprouting and scintillating were flowers sublime and fruits, foreign to the desert eye. all around me, the saguaro cried, ’beseech us with your gifts, our sun, let our labor be glorified!’ this cry was not found within me. instead, I pressed, ’from the sun, I was conceived. for the sun, I labored in patience, but to the sun, I will not be conquered.’ I will not surrender to that of my fears or to that of what I might depend on. I will remain a spear, eyes set on the beyond. I will be steadfast.
be well,
bcb
Mar 30, 2020
Mar 30, 2020 at 5:53 PM UTC
I'm going to war
with myself
enough with the
holding off
tip toeing around
enough looking for
handouts
while I stand above ground
today
is the day
that I become one with
the flame
today is
the day
that I pronounce myself sane
proudly will I
conquer
the weakness
my Aim
no more have I room
for doubt
Insecurity
nor shame
no more tinkering with minds
nor playing silly games
on days like this the
Spartans became
with myself on this day
it shall
be the same
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 2:23 PM UTC
Last night
I watched a guy
Play a Perfect Dark Mod
With Golden Eye levels
He created simulations
To play against
In a free for all
Today I watched
A Halo 3 AI battle
Spartans vs Elites
One absurd event
Leads to another
I workout
But I don't get
Big muscles
I came into
My fleshlight yesterday
Human life is sad
Stupid
Oh there is the paper there
Health care costs
To rise in 2017
Everything costs
And i have no money
Who cares?
Why do we need
Two expensive BMWs?
I don't know
Money is power
And I'm paid
By the hour
The expression
On my face
Appears quite dour
Aug 17, 2016
Aug 17, 2016 at 3:48 PM UTC
Moan.
Y a w n.
Purr.
How I adore our meanderings.
Mornings of misfits, nomads,
waking to the sturdy fur of you,
pecks, abs, inner thigh
unclad
body heat...
The world outside feels absent,
your hardness
your breath
presently
itching against yesterday's 5-o'clock
shadow...
We breakfast on such sensations satin
A thousand thread count
sifting in grips of sheets
creating
silken dunes of flesh creamy hues
soft mounds from our twist
tied
tethered limbs
then opening those passages
with French kisses
and humid licks
our lips like
camelback & cobra songs
to Sahara
Heatwaves
where we worship obelisks
until slumber
has rendered us
stardust and sphinx
mused and fused - our flesh again
in hymns
this Sunday morning...
Less stealth of night but copious
is touch
slithering undulations
of parched needs
for us to swim in the hunger of its seas
Since sensing sensual stiffness
your shifting
your shaft
my blood collects
to tighten what is mine within
When this grabs hold of us
like the blinding noon
we forgive
that it is Sunday
mourn that I thirst for you.
Such thickets of urges
juicy sweet confection / completion's
masculine deprivation
half grin half flurry,
No worry
displacing thoughts of infection
secure in our relations...
Stretching with both my hands
behind me
gripping with claws of the passionate
buttocks raised (waiting for rain)
as if to be seen & named
by the gods' - creative breath and shame
I yearn for your embrace
Heaven forgive me
for the heaven he gives me...
Affirmed
as though we were the firmaments
sky without permission (or air rights)
to fly
comely
and in our rhythmic trance
we become Spartans
(with our war cry)
Driven
Breathing
One defeat
Shriven as we're falling
One choice to leap.
Exhale Olympus
Fallen pillars' hush.
Good morning, Love
a taste of how Nirvana feels
constellations and the heavenly
wheel.
Stretching.
Eyes open to take in my world.
Stretching
Behind
Reaching for you
if just briefly knowing
the whole truth...
Jul 26, 2019
Jul 26, 2019 at 2:07 PM UTC
I want to be born again
I want to remember what it's like
to feel something new
to experience something
for the first time again
endlessly I search
for that feeling
in other places
and fresh faces
but nothing I do
births the feeling of newness
I want to feel my face catch fire
with blushings from sweet nothings
whispered in my ears
I want to feel the beat of my heart
so loud and hard
that I'm afraid it will burst through my chest
into someone else's hands
I want to feel a love so fresh
it feels true & limitless
as I gaze into its beauty & potential
I want my feelings to rush forth
like the flood gates after a hurricane
to rush forth
like the Spartans army
on the brink of the battle field
to rush forth
like a forest fire of untamable desire
sweeping everything els in its wake
all the pain
the questions
the strife
that comes with life
swept up in the fire
in the magic
in the moment
of feeling something new
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 11:46 AM UTC
O
Moan.
Y a w n.
Purr.
How I adore our meanderings.
Mornings of misfit nomads
waking to the sturdy fur of you,
pecks, abs, inner thigh
unclad
body heat...
The world outside feels absent,
your hardness
your breath
presently
itching against yesterday's 5-o'clock
shadow...
We breakfast on such sensations
satin thousand threads
sifting in grips of sheets
creating
silken dunes of flesh creamy hues
soft mounds from our twist
tied
tethered limbs
then opening passages with kisses
and humid licks
our lips:
camelback & cobra songs
to Sahara
Heatwave
where we worship obelisks
until slumber
has rendered us
stardust and sphinx
mused and fused - our flesh again
in hymns
this Sunday morning...
Less stealth of night but copious
is touch
slithering undulations
of parched needs
for us to swim in the hunger of its seas
Since sensing sensual stiffness
your shifting
your shaft
my blood collects
to tighten what is mine within
When this grabs hold of us
like the blinding noon
we forgive
that it is Sunday
mourn that I thirst for you.
Such thickets of urges
juicy sweet confection / completion's
masculine deprivation
half grin half flurry,
No worry
displacing thoughts of infection
secure in our relations...
Stretching with both my hands
behind me
gripping with claws of the passionate
buttocks raised (waiting for rain)
as if to be seen & named
by the gods' - creative breath and shame
I yearn for your embrace
Heaven forgive me
for the heaven he gives me...
Affirmed
as though we were the firmaments
sky without permission (or air rights)
to fly
comely
and in our rhythmic trance
we become Spartans
(with our war cry)
Driven
Breathing
One defeat
Shriven as we're falling
One choice to leap.
Exhale Olympus
Fallen pillars' hush.
Good morning, Love
a taste of how Nirvana feels
constellations and the heavenly
wheel.
Stretching.
Eyes open to take in my world.
Stretching
Behind
Reaching for you
if just briefly knowing
the whole truth...
Oct 27, 2017
Oct 27, 2017 at 9:58 PM UTC