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house how i feel
howl humanity
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Long Jealousy Poems | Long Jealousy Poetry

Long Jealousy Poems. Below are the most popular long Jealousy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jealousy poems by poem length and keyword.

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Russell Banks | Details |

Emo Love

With this needle and thread I stitch the wounds Avril left
but with this blade I angrily carve a new
rough, short, jagged adjacent from the bone in my wrist
for a reflection of our relationship
and an outlet for the anger unable to release
Then another upon my neck where she used to sweetly kiss
fresh and clean, letting the blood fall slowly and peacefully
as I fall to chaos on the inside
Blue is the warmest color
the words sting more than the knife I hesitantly hang
above the vein I'm so desperate to cut
How can something so warm become so bitter, so brutal
I search the mirror for answers just to see her face instead
piercing me, mocking me; a bonfire to laugh at a candle
as she disappears in an array of fragments
falling to sleep by the lullaby of the earthquake 
resounding from my fist
Cradling my hand, tossing away the pain
I collapse under the weight of my destruction
a king of night slain by the queen of day
as music, my magician, attempts to revive me
installing hope while simultaneously shrouding me in defeat
How can cupid so small shoot an arrow so mighty
I curse the sky, it's betraying hue
as I pray for night, praying for mercy
falling asleep in the arms of sorrow protecting me...
Where am I
I open bloodshot eyes into fluorescent white, an illusion
my world is pitch black and I can't open my eyes
As I begin to panic, shaking the bars upon my heart
for it to beat once again 
As I begin to panic
beating upon the neurons while screaming, 'STIMULATE! '
As I begin to panic, kicking the glass in my iris to bring forth color
a vibrant world in contrast to the island of grey 
I persist to escape
a calmness washes over me
a calm voice whispers so eloquently to me
'Hush thou art deceived
come, follow the sound of my voice; come to me'
Is this angel sent to guide me into a peaceful forever slumber
or is she a temptress so beautiful I die at first sight
She said I am deceived
deceived by what, by who; I must know
'Hush thou art deceived
come, follow the sound of my voice; come to me'
That milky, honey echo so familiar
so tantalizing, tangible; the feeling of invincibility to follow
'Hush thou art deceived
come, follow the sound of my voice; come to me'
That sound, that voice bouncing off the walls of my dreams
I burst through to find a coffee shop
teeming with no one but me 
Then, like a miracle of air, there the voice beholds a face
a captivating beauty so perfect
Her hair, a halo of pink lost in a maze of fields painted black
Her eyes, twins pools of green, the most amazing I've ever seen
that no words give release as I make my attempt to speak
My mouth gains dust as my jaws begin to rust shut
Then she smiles
her cheeks produce dimples, her nose slightly scrunching
yet it's still enough to make me melt
me, now a puddle within my shoes
She giggles and lifts me up
I without a fuss as she sweeps me up in a hug
With a voice to make Aphrodite jealous she whispers softly
'Hush thou art deceived, you are not in love with me
but I in love with you so here take my hand
I'll show you my world if I can to see if you understand'
Puzzled I take her hand but I still don't understand
my breath won't resurrect so I save the rest
as she pokes my chest
for her to hear me breathlessly ask her name
She takes a step back with a small little laugh
she grabs my hand as I realize where I stand
Stunned and amazed I turn to run
but the sight of a whale shakes me to the core
the same frequency as I shake her
shouting, 'WHY ARE WE ON THE OCEAN FLOOR? ! '
With a playful smile, she bothered to ask
'You've made castles by the shore, no? 
I know that we are more so let's make castles on the floor'
With a gleeful jump, she began to work
as my panic turns to curiosity, shaking my head in disbelief
I join in, my mind in a tailspin
I have a whirlwind of questions but they blow over with the ocean tide
as she regails her tale of the other side
a world unfamiliar yet she gains my intrigue 
with stories I can't compete
Though silently I beg the question 
How am I deceived, this feels right to me
How can this be wrong with her bright smile bringing me back to life
She looks up at the wrong time, aware I'm elsewhere
runs and jumps into my arms
placing a phantom kiss upon my lips
a stone fortress under siege by vulnerability
With a phantom kiss I return to her realm
amidst her question hanging in the air, 'Is anything amiss? '
I reply with a smile and a shake of my head
asking for a simple change of scenery 
I have a request but it goes unheard
a mouse on Christmas night; though I shake with slight fright
as she gets my request just right
I sprawl out on the grass, the night sky spread out
a cluster of piercings mapping out my former source of glory
now the orchestrator of my misery
I wince with sudden grief, shedding tears of pain thought renounced
pausing only to find the object of my current affection
eyes brilliant pearls, mimicking the stars stoic beauty
perched upon my lap; staring at me intently, intensely
and without words asking who has wronged me so
With words I cannot bear to voice that name
so I pull her into my embrace
her gaze away from the image of me, clutching what ails me in my hand
till my knuckles turn white as snow then I let go
letting the memory fade so I know it's true
And with a sudden moment I look her square in the eyes
for love is all I have inside
as I ask her to sprout wings of butterflies with me
black as a panther mixed with red of passion for me
a costume of gold with a pink lining for her
for she's perfect beyond reason
I ask her to fly away with me to a galaxy outside the milky way
Sadness in her eyes, she denies
placing her finger upon my heart as she cries
reviving my stilled heartbeat...
Was it a dream or just my escape as my eyes flicker wide
welcoming a world I don't recognize
I try to sit up but I fall back
a heavy sigh to escape my thoughts, 'Where is she'
Like an owl, my head spins in a circle just to locate her presence
but like a ghost arises her voice in my conscious
'Hush thou art deceived for I lied
you are in love with me and I in love with you 
but we can only exist in your dreams'
I know I should've savored every moment
but what happens when every moment was an illusion
to everyone, everyone but you

Copyright © Russell Banks | Year Posted 2016


Long poem by Russell Banks | Details |

No Happy Ending

Bright lights, big city...
bright lights, big city dreams...
please just take me away tonight
Let me rest on your elegance tonight
I have no energy left to spend in reality
so please knock me unconscious
just to be in the place that makes me...
I wanted to sing
so loudly, proudly of a heroine
put aside a feeling of haste, of hate
of Juliet turned Medusa
now my Medusa Juliet turning Rapunzel
Strange it may seem, I'll explain a different day
something betters my attention
begs my words to form a letter
Veronica...once my Veronica
in this play, in this scene
we were able to make amends, stay friends
20, we are both 20
Life is confusing
all these convoluted schemes it throws our way
How are we supposed to seize the day
how about she seized me instead
A story, a flashback inside another story
remember 'If Your Reflection Could Kill'
a memoir asking questions and banishing Juliet from my life 
if only for a while
I just wanted answers but she fled away
from what she believed to be cancer
though it gave a chance for Veronica and I to be consistently happy
but there is no happy for me
We hit a cosmic rift, a cosmic shift
a month after a daringly rushed proposal
someone got lost, got scared, turned ghost, just shutdown completely
Months go by and we reconciled
you'd think there'd be a happy ending in silver lining
yet a month maybe three weeks from present day
arrives Juliet atop her steed of do-overs and repeats
a fresh start
I didn't buy a single word
I don't subscribe to politics but I know how hers works
still I couldn't banish her again
I couldn't, I can't
Myself, I've been running away
pointing if only an ounce of blame her way
knowing full well I fell in love with the girl for three years
who was just words across a screen
a voice from a phone
I only dreamed of who she could be
now I know
and in her eyes I still felt that same bitter love 
I wanted to keep 4 years back
so Juliet wanted my audience
my ears and my eyes to acknowledge she was finally here to stay
here to play no games
I had no good reason to deny
so my answer was obvious
but Veronica, she caught wind of this
and there went my attempt to gain back what time has torn apart
Veronica, she tore down my walls so she knew
I could hear her scream with disdain, curse my name
What was she angry for
an entire year, she tried to see my face again
an entire year, I had a list of excuses to keep her at bay
It was never because I didn't trust myself
it was all because I couldn't dare stare in the face
someone of importance
knowing it was me that once dared to keep a promised
and succeeded in the quickest time to break her and it 
making her cry
What made her angry
She believed I chose Juliet over her
and I tried to defend myself with armed words
justified explanations
but I had no explanation to give
I was unarmed in these verbal fights
I didn't know what was right
what to say
that day changed everything
Juliet took Veronica's place
as the conversationalist, the smiling heroine
as the one I could compliment
the one I could make happy
the one I could just be me
Veronica, she just spent two weeks
taking jab after jab at Juliet
taking jab after jab at me...till yesterday
a bad day turned nightmare
when I unbottled truth built up for weeks
I confessed my reasons, my seasons
why she hasn't seen my face, a long list of apologies
so the weight of my shoulders would leave
so she would know, so we could grow
as like me, you would hope for a naive understanding response
as like me, you would hope for a silver lining
hope she'd understand
but I know all too well
there is no happy ending for me
The deities all laugh at my scorn
never happy till they see me destroyed
never satisfied till they, in awe, watch me weep
Veronica, I think I may have lost a friend in Veronica
I called it fate, I called it destiny
since she made it all to be my fault
that I'm a liar
when she knows full well I just want everyone in the world
who steps in my universe to be happy
Forgive me for my selfish desire but it's true
I may now talk about myself too much
but it doesn't compare to how much I cared about her
or want her to be happy
Oh no
She pressed the button, she pressed the button
Did she really say that she doesn't know who I am
did she really say that I'm not her old sweet best friend
does she really have the right to say anything? ! 
She left me behind! 
When we were kids, she left me behind
for the religious remarks of my cousin tore her apart
She could've came back at anytime
She left me behind
For years, I waited for her return with baited breath
though each time she came back
once to tell me at 2 in the morning that she got lucky
once to accompany me through my second tour of Juliet 
as freaking spectator
she left and never said anything else
If it wasn't for a mutual friend
she would've never talked to me again! 
She left me behind! 
She wasn't there when I needed her the most
when I needed a friend the most
but that doesn't matter no cause oh I'm a liar
cause I have a selfish desire to be miserable
while I want the whole world who steps into my universe to be happy
All these words I never said to her, to Veronica
I just sat defenseless, sat stunned, sat fed up, sat done
tried to defend myself again but there's nothing to defend
told her good night, good life
hope to talk again
but if she was done with me, tell me so
cause I'd rather not spend another night
getting cussed out, getting yelled at
trying to muster up a defense case 
for something I do that doesn't directly effect her
but in her eyes this friendship isn't worth it
I'm not worth it
freaking perfect...
Bright lights...big city...
just take me far away from here
give me amnesia or just omit her from my memory
I'm sick of this
of everything inadvertently being the fault of me
Are you happy deities? ? ! 
Are you happy? 
There is no happy ending for me

Copyright © Russell Banks | Year Posted 2016


Long poem by Balveen Cheema | Details |

Mother Of The Age



Stately stood Princess Amber in all her finery,
Emerald tunic over a crimson gown,
With gems inlaid in her rustling gown,
Her arms bangled in intricate gold slowly rose,
Her slender fingers rested on her heaving bosom,
Listening to unstopping drum-beats of her heart.
Her  breath clung to the heavy nose ring,
Beads of perspiration made damp
The adorned golden wreath on her tense filled brow.
Her curtained eyes rose to show the fires ablaze,
A voice so tumultuous never heard before
Anguished the gems in Jalal-ud-din's court 
To hear their silent queen speak so.
Born am I of noble Rajput parents,
My father named me Heer Kunwari- a pearl,
Was married into a Mughal family without much disdain.
Served I in nature true,
Does a Mughal king know not  
Of virtues imbibed by a Rajput  princess?
Brought up was I in Amber palace,
My mother bred me with values 
Both spiritual and bold,
Jump we into the pyre before being disgraced,
Honour be the seal of a Rajput maid,
This thou shoulds't have known before thou wedded me, My Sire!
And accuse you my Lord of my infidelity?
Never come close to a Rajput maiden
And hence remain from my shadow afar
Thoughts of a Mughal King are tarred and defiled,
I return to my kingdom for the dishonour bestowed.
Yet the truth be unraveled of your wet mother dear,
The milk you drank was of not of human kindness for sure,
Flowing in your veins is your wet-mothers venom,
Your wisdom poisoned  was not of your mother's,
There be a difference between a mother and a wet mother.
My brother was it that visited me in fear,
My forged letter to him was sent
That his sister in distress had pleaded him near.
In hiding is he from enemies around
Under the shroud of darkness
Came he to rescue his sister hence.
The treachery hatched  by your mother foster
In envy is she of your wife now ignobled.
Banished have you me from my wedded abode
Nor asked me of my crime in courtroom fenced
Why question not your soul of justice denied?
Out of my heart you walk thence,
Enter I into the shelter of my father loyal
My heart pierced with arrows immense,
Sail I to home for being slandered thus.
Free am I of being concubined in your Mughal walls
The knight I was bethroded to was never  mine
Belonged he to the  faith of his venomous milk.
Proved thou once again the woman be at fault and not the I.
Queen Salima the Innocent was suspected so
For being with a man she never had ever seen before
Pined she for you in your Palace  of Love.
I no Salima to take my life
In the eyes of my father will I remain a lustrous pearl.
Suspicion above truth be your manly tribe
Honour above dishonour be a woman's pride.
I a Rajput princess forever be
Live I in pride for I were true
Live thou in guilt for justice denied.
The kingdom of God not await for thee
Time will come for a woman to rise.
Princess Amber followed by her Rajput entourage 
Seated she in her bridal palanquin
Burning cheeks and eyes so cold
Ruddier drops had never been shown.
Coloured veils rising with the deserty billows
Of her ladies in waiting with tear filled eyes.
Silence entombed  her Amber chambers 
No question asked by father dear,
Trusted he the virtues of his daughter beloved
In her mother's warmth she remained embraced
To happier familial joys for the seasons to  see.
Jalal-ud-din's ears roared again and again
His weakened ears were his enemy true,
Won he a battle to all was known,
Losing the home ground to all was shown,
Turned he to ashes by his queen so new. 
Strode he in anger to his foster mother's abode
Followed was he by marching soldiers 
Spears in hand and daggered girdles,
Barging into the chamber of his mother wet
Huddled in fear of Jalal-ud-din's anger
Knelt down she as Yamuna doubly flooded 
Pleading mercy with joined palms cracked
Thundered Jalal-ud-din with anger renewed
Take the woman to her empty world
Fettered in chains her dungeon be,
No man no woman her companion be
Till her last breaths no mercy receive.
Heralded aloud in Jalal-ud-din's kingdom
The banished queen to her throne doth return.
The soldiers ready in their array full
The stallion royal neighed at his dazzling adornments
Saddled in jade and dotted gold,
Coloured festoons and brassy jingles
Galloped he in  hooving a sandy cloud
Scalloped eyes stood still only at Amber court.
Snowy doves on arches watched
The lungs so full as trumpeters blew,
The castle bedecked at glorified romance 
The gypsy dancers in flaring skirts
Dancing in chorus to their emperor new,
Smearing his brow with vermilion holy
Marigolds perfumed under the feet of their trodden king.
Touched he the feet of his Amber parents
Blessed was he of his auspicious return
Escorted regally to the princess' chamber
Silence pervaded after chamberlains departed.
Knelt he before the royal princess
With folded hands and drooping head
The belittled princess with a heart so torn
Bent she down to her humbled king
Moistened eyes and ruby lips
She clutched his feverish hands 
And bespoke, rise Great Mughal King
Hence reign in your kingdom great,
With knowledge fully acknowledged.
Suspicion soon aroused is wilfully pertained
Close proximity to peace be unblinded justice.
Jalal-ud-din Akbar with glistening brow
Rose tall to the stature of his pearly queen
Heer Kunwari were you born, your father's pearl 
Crown I you Mariam-uz-Zamani, Mother Of the Age.
Rule you my world in equal voice
Justice be enthroned in the voices of kings.



Copyright © Balveen Cheema | Year Posted 2015


Long poem by Brian Johnston | Details |

My Ring Trilogy - The Poems

You Know Who You Are! 

I know that you probably know who you are...
Abusers who prey on women (or men) .
Your aberrance mostly extends to the weak, 
Your generosity just serves other's pain
And, of course, their misery's your only gain.
Do not think that you'll find me turning my cheek	
For doing so would just encourage your sin.
I'd rather see you in a specimen jar, 
Or displayed on corkboard impaled with a pin, 
Some place where your psyche has no powr' to mar.

Some say that it's likely that you were abused, 
The sins of the parents passed on as it were, 
God forgive me, if you're not really liable, 
But your friendship's not the company I seek
God grant you don't find fellowship with the meek
And your progeny all be un-viable.
It's not that I curse you, but I would deter
Your excess on innocents already bruised, 	
My prayer's not for you but for those you injure, 
God forgives but your deeds cannot be excused.

To see people like you removed from the earth
Would most certainly fill up my cup of mirth! 

Brian Johnston
January 12,2014

___________________


The Wages of Sin

The bush in which you hide
Reveals your cowardice, 
The wall, behind which you speak, 
Testifies against you, 
The seed which you so blithely sow, 
Grows bitter fruit that does not nourish
Or weeds that suck soil dry
So that good seed barely feeds the birds, 
Does not take root, 
Imagination insufficient, 
To wet the soil.
Bad intentions blow
What good soil there is
Across the sea to waiting deserts
More deserving in Africa, 
The rocks left behind, 
Only bruise your feet.

Brian Johnston
Sept.23,2014

____________________


The Troll

‘An interesting guy I think, '
People might say on meeting you for the first time, 
Oh yes, I've come to know you too well.
Thank God for the Internet, 
Although there are bodies in your wake, 
And stench follows you like a garbage scow
There is protection for many in distance from, 
In the miles of wire, the waves of wireless
Communication, and so like a deer
Caught in the headlight of your amazing ego, 
[Fashioned by the fires of Hell (like Gollum's ring)     
And as empty as the devil's soul], 
They stand frozen for a moment, 
Throwing it off finally, the vision of their own death
Shaking their heads in wonder, ‘What just happened? '

It's like the first lesson your mother tries to teach, 
‘Be careful who you choose as a friend, '
A cautionary tale for adults too.
‘Fire does burn' even when you reach adulthood, 
All that sparkles is not gold, my friend, 
And a ‘nom de plume' like Talvia Sprinkles, 
Just one more bush the troll hides in.
Sometimes that strange feeling that you have
Is actually another human? being? peeing on your soul
The golden shower they offer, however, 
Does not assuage your guilt (which is real, so what?)     
You've just been sold a bill of goods, 
Dr. Killdeers Magic Elixir, a not so benign fixer.

If you have been in this dark place of the soul
And saved by Satan not in fact being God, 
Then rejoice my friend in God's provision
In youth or childhood, you did something good? 
Do more, bear witness of your weakness to others, 
Not to mortify your own flesh (God knows you're sorry)     
But so that those with ears to hear (also God's gift)     
Perchance will themselves not feel so alone.
Remember that half-truths strung together like pearls
Are still sh**, if you'll pardon the expression.
‘If it sounds to good to be true it isn't, '
Remember only God knows your soul, 
Satan is just a very experienced guesser
And revels in our penchant to deny our own sin.
His wisdom does not serve the greater good.
Do not look for truth among the cold stones
Of the temple that once stood at Delphi either, 
Or trust any oracle that does not bend his knee
To the living God, the creator of us all.
It is your life, it is your responsibility, 
Don't parrot Cesar's surprised last words
As a ‘friend' slipped his knife into Cesar's heart, 
‘Et tu, Brute? ' You have been warned! 

Brian Johnston
September 26,2014

Poet's Notes are listed separately because of space limitations on Poetry Soup. Sorry for the inconvenience. I hope that you will take the time to read them.

Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2014


Long poem by Maurice Yvonne | Details |

Yesterday Love Was Such An Easy Game To Play


Yesterday, I went home for lunch, I never go home for lunch. When I got to our apartment  I don't know why but I didn't reach for my key.  Francine was at work and I always leave last in the morning.  I was sure I had locked the door but I didn't reach for my key. I reached for the door knob and turned. The door was open.  I don't know how I knew. The moment I entered I knew.  I froze. I could feel it, smell it, hell I could taste it. I started walking but my muscles wouldn't move,  my lungs were grasping for air  for some oxygen  some sweet, sweet oxygen but I could barely breathe. “Leave!” I told myself but I kept walking. Not really walking,  it was like moving through mud,  like a slow motion scene in a movie.  But this wasn't a movie.  This was my life and I could feel it slipping away  from my grasp. I heard noises! Francine.  I had heard those noises a hundred times before,  they were the sounds of an Angel  but this was no heaven  this was my own private nightmare. The moans traveled through the muck in the air  amplified like the hiss from a distorted speaker.  It mocked me over and over again. Climbing a mountain might have been easier  but I finally reached the bedroom, and there they were, and there she was. I knew, I knew the moment I entered the apartment.  Why hadn't I just turned back?  I could barely see, my eyes were blurry,  covered in layers of my own tears. I could see her  I knew I had never seen him before. They were naked and in our bed.  Naked in OUR BED! How do you that? How do you cross the line to that extreme? You'd think the green eyed monster  would control my actions from here on in.  I did see green! I was insanely jealous but I didn't want to end up the morning headline in the newspaper. That monster jealousy was by my side but I took charge.  I'd have to keep him at bay, at least for now. You'd think I would be mad, I wasn't. You'd think I'd curse and call her whore. I didn't! Being cut open alive must be lest painful than this.   This hacked away at my spirit,  tore away at my self worth. I felt like a pile of worthless shreds. I spoke I mean my lips moved and words came out... I think.  I think I said,  I'm not sure it all happened so fast, she never spoke. I could see the shame on her face  she didn't need to speak,  but, but I think I said 'Sorry... I said Sorry and I left. I wandered for what seemed hours,  it was minutes.  It wasn't like I was meandering to a different drummer;  there just wasn't any music anymore. I was moving to the rhythm of the beating of my own heart.  Like a broken record it was skipping, like a broken record it played  in a loop of repetitive monotony. I suffered in my circled steps  until I couldn't stand it any more. I found just enough strength  to return to the apartment. I knew she was gone  I already felt the emptiness in my whole. We'd never see each other again. We had been so much. She was a big part of my life. She was the love of my life. I would never love anyone like that again. So much of her was me. I thought she was my soul mate. We let go of all of it. There is a feeling of betrayal. A feeling of disgust. A jealousy that takes over. I'd never look at her the same again. Everything she ever did from that day on would always make me suspicious. Jealousy would rule me. Jealousy should never rule anyone. If you can't trust the people in your life, friend or lover, you need to remove that person from your life. You have to remove that person out of your life. Trust, is the only gift we can offer. Friend, lover or stranger! People can trust me. My word is my bond. I let her go,  I really didn't have a choice I would never be the same again. She was gone. She had left a note. It said Sorry! Sorry! We both were. Maurice Yvonne 11~30~2014 Sponsor: Verlena S. Walker Contest Name: The Green-Eyed Monster 
 

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014


Long poem by Langeni Mate | Details |

The Rebirth Poem XI - Black Painting On A Black Wall

Black Blood was used to paint a picture on a Black Wall. Black Blood was used to paint. Black Blood. Blood bought from the very same people who stood side by side with you 25 years ago. Now that their kids have been given the Freedom you have fought for, all of a sudden that same Freedom must be taken away because they are taking land that is considered to be free. Not yours, free. So what do we call this? Xenophobia or Stupidity? Cause it was King Zwelithini who commanded for his former friends to be removed from this land now he has disappeared because he finally realised that Black Blood can't be used to paint a White Picture on a Black Wall. 

So what has happened to South Africa? The most diverse country in the world can't accept a few foreigners. People look down on South Africans saying that we are too lazy. On average how many South Africans would rather choose to sit down and complain about the unemployment rate instead of being innovative and creating new jobs? How many foreigners do you see on the streets with their piece jobs? Thousands. That's because they understand that they came here to work not to sit around and expect Zuma to visit your home and give you a job. But who am I to address my own country. Will they kill me too? After all, Black Blood was used to paint a picture on a Black Wall. 

So if I was to ask a fellow South African what picture did they paint I wonder what they would tell me. It's either you Black or you White they say. Whether you're Black, White, Indian, Coloured, Nigerian, Zimbabwean or Kenyan you're African I say. Imagine if all the South Africans in different countries were killed because quite frankly they are foreigners too. Please don't come tell me about being Black or White because Xenophobia is the result of confused people trying to see an invisible light. I can't believe we are having a repeat of Apartheid with our own kind. Those who fought for us are now considered to be the ones against us. If I could, I would change my race to Grey because sometimes people don't know whether they are fighting against Black or White. The picture is so clear you can tell that Black Blood was used to paint a picture on a Black Wall. 

So what are we becoming? Humans that can't love each other. Why aren't the Chinese being killed for opening up their China Malls occupying more space than the thousand of equivalent foreigners and their small place? Whether you're Chinese or Indian, diversity makes you South African. We are so busy disturbing the peace and equality within ourselves that people who enjoy inflicting pain have even turned around in shame. Tell me what would happen to all those families that have lost their sole breadwinners, fathers, friends and most importantly, lost the reason to pursue a dream to make the very same country that took his only parent away, a better place? All these innocent people have now passed and I simply applaude you and say. Well done. You've earned yourself a job, salary, happy family, home, car and all of life's treasures. And all you ever did was finally stand up, walk out and increase the unemployment rate. Then next year you will walk in, sit down and complain about the unemployment rate. So infact you don't know what you really want. That is a result of a Black Painting On A Black Wall. 

2015/04/17

Copyright © Langeni Mate | Year Posted 2015


Long poem by Brian Johnston | Details |

My Ring Trilogy - Poet's Notes

Poet’s Notes:
This is what I call a 'Poem en Duo,' a collection of related poems which when grouped together serve to illuminate elements that they have in common. They can be by the same author as in this case or by multiple authors.

The Troll now joins what I am calling ‘My Ring Trilogy’ and completes this cycle very well I think, though I had no idea I was writing a trilogy when I started it many months ago. ‘God is Great!’ Hope that you find it interesting too! All three poems while not written to attack Merov Tachgovirian specifically, do in my humble opinion describe him all most perfectly by accident as it were. Maybe because he uses my verse as a sick goal for his own life, lacking the imagination to come up with his own game plan for a truely evil life.

On PoemHunter.com there is a poorly implemented rating system that if allowed by each individual poet, allows visitors to the poet's site to rate each poem from 1 - 10. Used in its intended manner, this allows visitors to my site for example, to easily see which of my 200+ poems have been the most popular so far. This can be a nice tool for a visitor when he/she comes to my site for the first time. I use it myself quite frequently in this way, not really a gauge of true quality but at least a crude measure of popularity. What Merov and his like are doing are doing on PoemHunter is to, without regard for the poem at all, to give the poem MULTIPLE VOTES of 1.0 which can bring the 'average rating' of a poem that has been given 4 votes of 10.0 for example whose average rating should in fact be 10.0 down considerably. I had one poem like this that Merov gave 8 votes of 1.0 to (in a 24 hour period). So doing the math, 40 normal points + 8 Merov points equals 48 points in total. You divide that by th number of votes cast 12 votes and now the poems average rating is 4.0 and not a perfect 10.0 that it should be. Merov can do this because he joins a site with multiple false identities and then uses these membership votes as a base from which to launch attacks on others.


A note in passing to honor the 'Walking Dead' among us (Hi Merov):

Well apparently PH has banished you from it’s halls and once again because of your amazing ego (your greatest weakness and most devastating weapon), and, of course, the pornographic language you use to comment on other's poems. If you have not been attacked by people like him, count yourself lucky. If you do not care about the pain that he brings to others by this behavior, then count yourself his victim already. ‘Talvia Sprinkles’ and  ‘Jimmy Tuhans’ (nom de plumes he used recently on PH) may be history, but Merov certainly is not. There are an infinite number of internet ‘nom de plumes’ for him to hide behind, more sites will be attacked, more sites and feelings damaged by his misinformation and scurrilous comments. Do not dream that evil is not real. Good men may lay down their arms, even admit defeat, own that they were wrong. Evil never does. The suffering of others is its only goal.

Copyright © Brian Johnston | Year Posted 2014


Long poem by Maurice Yvonne | Details |

When Jealousy Rears Its Ugly Head

Yesterday I went home for lunch I never go home for lunch When I got to our apartment I don't know why but I didn't reach for my key I was sure I had locked the door but I didn't reach for my key I reached for the door knob and turned The door was open The moment I entered I knew I froze I could feel it smell it hell I could taste it I started walking but my muscles wouldn't move my lungs were grasping for air for some oxygen but I could barely breathe Leave I told myself but I kept walking Not really walking, it was like a slow motion scene in a movie But this wasn't a movie This was my life and I could feel it slipping away from my grasp I heard noises Francine I had heard those noises a hundred times before they were the sounds of an Angel but this was no heaven this was my own private nightmare The moans traveled through the muck in the air and were amplified like the hiss from a distorted speaker It mocked me over and over again Climbing a mountain might have been easier I finally reached the bedroom I knew the moment I entered the apartment Why hadn't I just turned back I could barely see my eyes were covered in layers of salted moisture but I could see her I had never seen him before They were naked in our bed Our bed You'd think the green eyed monster would control my actions from here on in. I was insanely jealous but I didn't want to end up the morning headline in the newspaper. That monster jealousy was by my side but I took charge. I'd have to keep him at bay, at least for now. You'd think I would be mad I wasn't You'd think I'd curse and call her whore she wasn't She was just sharing, sharing her body with someone, someone who wasn’t me Being cut open alive must be less painful than this I had done the same countless times before That was so different it felt so harmless the other way around You excuse it rationalize it away But this hacked away at my spirit and tore at my self-worth I spoke I mean my lips moved and words came out I think I think I said I'm not sure it all happened so fast she never spoke I could see the shame on her face she didn't need to speak but but I think I said Sorry I said Sorry and I left I wandered for what seemed hours it was minutes It wasn't like I was meandering to a different drummer there just wasn't any music anymore I was moving to the rhythm of the beating of my heart Like a broken record it was skipping I suffered in my circled steps until I couldn't stand anymore and found just enough strength to return to the apartment I knew she was gone I already felt the emptiness in my frame She was gone She had left a note It said Sorry Sorry! We both were.
Maurice Yvonne Sponsor: Verlena S. Walker Contest Name: The Green-Eyed Monster

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014


Long poem by Cona Adams | Details |

Justice for All

When Christmas comes, we hope for rebirth of truth and love, man for man,
from the story spoken time after time to children who hear other (hate) words 
and wonder if it's true that Jesus Christ is the Savior and King of the Jews.
Throughout history, the world despises and slings venom as dung for every ear. 
Truth matters not; that God held Jews above every man. Jealousy reigns and 
envy turns to bile. During that "War of all wars," one man, blinded by hate 
and driven by evil, screamed death and power.The German people were victims
of lies, repeated ad nauseam, that force creates a perfect race, a just cause for
 killing the Jews, the lame, the old, the blind, "useless humanity," he called them.

But destruction snares those who hate and justice reigns where hearts are true.
Heroes are born and demons are crushed. After the horrors of war, a peaceful
era when many learn to respect the Jews and deplore the deeds of one vile man.
Only fools applaud evil or excuse atrocities fueled by hate. NATO restored 
their land, re-established the Jewish nation in 1948. Some resisted, and fought 
against them. Why can we not embrace the truth - that every man deserves life, 
free from wrath? The time has come. It's long overdue, Let us see it for Jewish
and Christians alike. For now, the misguided hate us too. We stand together 
against prejudice. 

   When Christmas comes, we hope for rebirth of truth and love, man for man,
from the story spoken time after time to children who hear other (hate) words 
and wonder if it's true that Jesus Christ is the Savior and King of the Jews.
Throughout history, the world despises and slings venom as dung for every ear. 
Truth matters not; that God held Jews above every man. Jealousy reigns and 
envy turns to bile. During that "War of all wars," one man, blinded by hate 
and driven by evil, screamed death and power.The German people were victims
of lies, repeated ad nauseam, that force creates a perfect race, a just cause for
 killing the Jews, the lame, the old, the blind, "useless humanity," he called them.

But destruction snares those who hate and justice reigns where hearts are true.
Heroes are born and demons are crushed. After the horrors of war, a peaceful
era when many learn to respect the Jews and deplore the deeds of one vile man.
Only fools applaud evil or excuse atrocities fueled by hate. NATO restored 
their land, re-established the Jewish nation in 1948. Some resisted, and fought 
against them. Why can we not embrace the truth - that every man deserves life, 
free from wrath? The time has come. It's long overdue, Let us see it for Jewish
and Christians alike. For now, the misguided hate us too. We stand together 
against prejudice. 

Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014


Long poem by T Wignesan | Details |

To what profound penance owe you this boon, O YashOthA

To what profound penance owe you this boon, O! Yashotha! Translation of Oothukkadu Venkata Subbha Iyer’s enna thavam seithanai – yashOthA by T. Wignesan

To what profound penance owe you this boon, O! YashOthA! ®

That He – the ParaBrahmman – who bestrides the Universe
Should call you “Mother!”

To what profound penance owe you this boon, O! YashOthA!

He who created the two times seven worlds
Whom you may lift up breast-feed and cradle in your arms 
Such as to drive even Brahmman and Indhiran to stark envy

(Yes) He whom you tied to the large stone mortar
Muffled and reduced to utter beggary, O! Mother!

To what profound penance owe you this boon, O! YashOthA!

What Sanakkadi Saints attained through self-mortifying  
        Endurance
You obtained that purity with ease just by being made His 
        Mother!

To what profound penance owe you this boon, O! YashOthA!



Transliteration

enna thavam seithanai – YashOthA (Refrain)
enkum nirai parabrahmman amma enralaikka
enna thavam seithanai – YashOthA
IrElu pUvanangkal padaitthavanai
Kaiyil Enthi cIr Addi pAlUddi talAdda
brahmmanum inthirannum manathil porAmai kola
uralil kaddi vAy potthik kenja vaitthAy tAyE
enna thaval seithanai - yashOthA
sanakkAthiyarthavayOkam seithu varunthi
sAthitthadai punitha mAthE eluthil pera
enna thavam seithanai - yashOthA

Resources

We are back again to celebrate Krishna in the words of the poet,
and thus to evoke the penchant for « playfulness » in the Hindu mind which cannot be dissociated from the profoundly respectful pre-occupation with anything religious whenever Krishna, the avatar/ embodiment of Vishnu, the Preserver in the Hindu Trinity, is the subject of one’s thoughts. The Hindu Pantheon is filled with some 33 million « gods », by some counts, but Krishna outshines them all.
In the Hindu religious tradition, the real and the mythological confound themselves, or rather the poet enhances the real through
his imagination, with the result we are made to believe that the
Supreme Being has a worldly life in which his worshippers may
interact with Him. This poem is yet another example. YashOthA
of the herdsman caste is entrusted with the infant Krishna, and as His foster-mother, she is the object of envy even by gods.

The poem has been set to music in the Carnatic mode (with ragas
and thalas) and sung by several able exponents of the art. Check out versions by Sudha Ragunathan or by Karthik and a good many others on the Internet (Abirami).

 ©  T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015.









 




 

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2015


Long Poems