Best Burmese Poems
Burning candle
tells a tale of
pure selfless life
Be such a flame
let your aim be
to tame darkness.
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A Than-Bauk, conventionally a witty saying or epigram, is a three line "climbing rhyme" poem of Burmese origin. Each line has four syllables. The rhyme is on the fourth syllable of the first line, the third syllable of the second line, and the second syllable of the third line.
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Dear Blabby
There is a matter I must get off my chest. I am due to marry in the fall, but now have cold feet. My fiancé is a lot brainier than I am. Intellectually, she’s head and shoulders above me. I have to hand it to her. But lately she’s been a pain in the neck. She jumps down my throat whenever we don’t see eye to eye. She makes me the butt of her jokes, venting her spleen. She even gives me a tongue lashing whenever we have disagreements.
Blabby, I don’t have the guts or the heart to level with her face to face. You see, I don’t intend on marrying her, but haven’t the stomach to deal with my dilemma. We’ve spent an arm and a leg for the wedding. Just a short while ago we were head over heels in love. But recently we’ve just been thumbing our noses at each other. When I tell her I love her just to keep the peace, she elbows me in the ribs before giving me the finger.
Blabby, here’s the bottom line. I am a very handsome young man. Women find me irresistible. My skin is flawless and bronzed. My eyes shine like Burmese sapphires. My hair is golden and wavy. And as for my torso, arms, and legs? I am a Greek god. My fiancé is kind, brilliant, and giving, but she’s no raving beauty. The mirror tells no lies. I deserve a gorgeous wife. Being modest and shy by nature, I ask your advice on how to break the news to her.
Too Handsome In Honolulu:
Dear Too Handsome,
Tell her you are backing out to marry your one and only love, yourself. Enjoy the honeymoon! Aloha!
For many people outside the Myanmar poetry, it may come as a surprise that there is such a thing as language-oriented poetry contemporary poetry scene in Myanmar. The Poetry of the bourgeoisie and the "art for the people" left-wing poetry.
I feel like I have to say to me about how this had happened in Myanmar, the country was under military rule over the past 60 years their poetry broke away from the traditional style classic writing about the monarchy the old and the Burmese Old Burmese way of life before the annexation of British Burma in 1886. The hair experimental poetry movement 1 of the 20th century, was 2 in the movement of new writing, which led pilot Dag on (which is now in his 90s and blind), after the end of World War 2. Influenced by left-wing ideology known of the historical period popular poetry, realism and the Marxist-oriented, through the 40S late. There was at that time, an ideological struggle between the so-called "art for art's sake" The Poetry of the bourgeoisie and the "art for the people" left-wing poetry. Has described those who did not support writing the new "bourgeois" and blasted the "progressives." Although the new writing system that is based on experimental poetry rhyme 4.3.2 with some changes in the number of syllables in each line rhyme scheme, which makes it more flexible, and was aimed at, faith, and the content of a revolutionary. The art for the masses, and poetry is the weapon of the masses against the landowners and capitalists and national. It is unfortunate that the writing of new, while winning the hearts and minds of an entire generation of young poets, and in some cases made just propaganda, and the adage is that the hair must be less aesthetic and utilitarian more so that even the common person would low education "appreciate" poem with ease. UNSUPPORTED CODE myanmar poem UNSUPPORTED CODE
Peter loved his wife Carmen Lúcia
Their love 's color was tranquil fuchsia
Their love took shape in Mogok
In depth of the Mother rock
Big red ruby-poem of Gaia
HISTORY
The Smithsonian's National Museum of Natural History in Washington, D.C. has received one of the world's largest and finest ruby gemstones. The 23.1 carats (4.62 g) Burmese ruby, set in a platinum ring with diamonds, was donated by businessman and philanthropist Peter Buck in memory of his late wife Carmen Lúcia. This gemstone displays a richly saturated red color combined with an exceptional transparency. The finely proportioned cut provides vivid red reflections. The stone was mined from the Mogok region of Burma (now Myanmar) in the 1930s.
Precious Stones and Gems - Poetry Contest
Sponsor:Anthony Slausen
Poet: Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty
Form: Limerick
Theme: Love, Ruby, Precious stone
< he took the fall
dressed blues call now
hearts wall skips beat
Written by Katherine Stella 8/7/11
A Than-Bauk, conventionally a witty saying or epigram, is a three line "climbing rhyme" poem of Burmese origin. Each line has four syllables.
The rhyme is on the fourth syllable of the first line, the third syllable of the second line, and the second syllable of the third line.
Tribute To U.S Marine Corps
Hu RAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH
Fidgety Cats And Feline Pets
(A Parody)
Fidgety cats and feline pets go out for a midnight run,
Siamese are to rare to ever dare to
And in Bali and Mali cats retire from dawn till one.
Persian Blues prefer to choose to snooze in the noon day sun
And there’s a rumour the Puma will sleep when the day is done.
Fidgety cats and feline pets go out for a midnight run.
The Ocelot, cares not a jot for the heat of the noon-day sun
And the Bengal rarely sleeps at all.
At mid-day in Mandalay the Tiger will hunt for fun,
But fidgety cats and feline pets go out for a midnight run.
The Lion’s roar is no more when the clock strikes one
And you will never meet a Cheetah after the setting sun.
The Maine Coone will bathe at noon and the
Burmese is quite at ease in the rays of the Asian sun,
But fidgety cats and feline pets go out for a midnight run.
Adapted from ‘Mad Dogs and Englishmen’ by Sir Noel Coward.
Barry Stebbings
07/03/18
Useless Money
I often get petitioning letters so many people trying
to find a place to live and only receive a bitter refusal
and see their children die of thirst and hunger.
I wish to help them, but no money in the world is
enough to stop this flood of humanity seeking a haven
flotsam, the wreck of the unfortunate and we can do
nothing but look another way.
Overwhelmed by the misery I can do little about, but
the woman from Myanmar who won a medal for her
tenacity, choose not to speak. The friendly Buddhists
are killing Muslims in their midst, they have become
refugees; the woman from Myanmar is voiceless.
She, the upper-class daughter of a Burmese general
Who aristocratic behaviour impressed us deeply,
But I ask why she is staying silent now.
The Burmese python lives in a creek
Far away from cold arctic
His body is colorful mosaic
The beautiful patterns are very sleek
His patterns are like ones of warriors and knots of Celtic
But in case of this python blue is centric
Like an entry gate to out world the pattern is cryptic
Most of its hues are covered from view but their amount is sick
The idea of evolution being environment in out world they try to mimic
That is why the patterns are like mosaic
They are words in most ancient Gaelic
The ever increasing patterns express ever developing spirit in plane of trans cosmic
My shy wife was a princess of Babazoa
Her dessert was cream lizard from Samoa
She inherited a princely sum
And went to the Big Gabazoa slum
And bought chilled bum for her sweet Burmese Boa
Once,
About ten minutes ago in the year
2006 or
2549, depending upon which avatar or
Messiah is consulted, I
Tumbled out of my bed to the
Untranslatable
Predawn
Cackle of
Frantic voices
Descending.
So, with urgency
Rarely experienced since the
Evacuation of my spirit
From the Land of
Possession Addiction, I was called to summon previously
Unknown prowess
Chancing traffic choked streets
Of Nakhorn (used to mean “New City” 700 years ago but not sure now)
Chiang Mai.
So there I was
Aboard my mostly pint-sized for a European descendent Kawasaki 112,
Red-blooded American head
Protruding
turret-like out of an
Undersized helmet that,
If nothing else,
Officially pronounced me foreign
Blazing a jutted path around
Decrepit trishaws,
Ubiquitously red baht busses and,
Not the least, a motorcycle with a sidecar bandaged to its
Aching side just in time to witness a
Spit-shined just out of the wrapper BMW
Brusque aside a
Sardine packed dump truck
Loaded,
Not with dirt, but five dollar a day
Laborers.
All this and more
Just moments before
Mounting the silted Ping and
Stampeding city gates, I glimpsed
Censored Snippets of TV reports blurting something unintelligible like
“Bangkok coup”,
“Corruption”,
“A King”
And
Somewhere,
Quite uncensored, of a not so pleased
Laozi,
Lotus splayed in
Meditation
Kneading the Eastern soil one
Daoist grain at a time,
Before ancient city walls
Rose up,
Monolithic in my path.
And then the recall that
Centuries before,
Burmese raiders
Resplendent in warrior garb
Plundered the palace and soul
Of the kingdom Thai before stealthily
Creeping back to their lairs,
Buddha-fat with riches.
That leaves the Siamese of 1935
And me, to wonder
Where is freedom
When we travel so far
Pell mell and
Peril, only to discover
In a fleeting brief moment the road to
Iniquity marked, rather
Erroneously, with the signpost to
Promises?
This is a Burmese climbing rhyme. It needs work. But we have had so much snow, of course, I thought about snowbirds. Haha.
White world snowbird
Hunts lunch blurred under fluff
He heard the seed would be there
Bird didn’t have a prayer; the crow
What share could he give the corvine
Better the bovine give him the boot
Or murine play tag with that twitterer
Crows are for the birds
The best words I can tell you
Two-thirds of them are no good
The seed blew through ice crystals
It flew over the cuckoos nest.
When I watch how you so gracefully move,
there are not enough words
to describe how I feel about you
This is just my unabridged heart speaking true
Adminiculate ...
Here is the evidence, the supporting proof:
after all these years, I'm even more in love with you
I love how you talk to me when you come home,
I love what you do to me when we're alone
Your skin tastes so good down to the bone
Bodice ...
You don't need anything to keep your waist tight,
you let it all hang out every night
You're the love of my life;
when I married you, I didn't think twice
Chavicha ...
Columbian woman, fought upstream to survive
You're feisty as salmon, my beautiful South American wife
Don't know what I'd do without you,
don't even wanna think about it
Just loving the fact that everyday next to me is where you sit
Xanthine ...
Our love can't be dissolved,
we always got closer after every problem we solved
You made my life so happy bright like yellow sunshine,
you sweet flower love of mine
Yuan ...
Ain't enough money in the world, my China doll,
that can buy your love away from me
You got everything I need
You never made my heart bleed;
never walked away, making me beg, baby please ... don't leave me
Zayat ...
Come, my love, and rest your heart in my heart
underneath the Burmese trees, cooled by the balmy breeze
And let me tell you the A, B, C's of what your love means to me
Come, my love, and rest your soul in my heart
beneath these aromatic trees, warmed by the summer breeze
And let me tell you the X, Y, Z's of what your love means to me
A love unabridged to my heart eternally
My respected teacher
She treated me like a parent
Kind and caring for me
She made my life heaven,
She taught me
How to write and draw
She taught me
How to read and how to use
She gives me many lessons
No education
But life lessons too
She is full bright,
She taught me about the world and life
For some time she is a mother
She looks at me like a garden
She is a guide star for me.
©®Ruqiya Binti Wuliullah
Ruqiya Binti Waliullah, She was a poetess From Myanmar (Yangon),
She was educated and degree holder (B.Sc Chemistry), She loves to write Burmese and English poems,
Write is her passion and reading her habits, Her poems were published in many national and international.
Finally , She feel with a cancer disease since 7th Aug 2019
She was massive humble, honest and respected person.
Unfortunately, She passed way in the life and her death date 17/10/2020. Her ambition was to shine her son(Osama) like star for the sake of Allah, O Allah fulfill her desire, Ameen . May Allah grant her the highest level of paradise, Ameen.
I'm late to the
Meeting on purpose.
My back left paw
Needed 10 or 12
More licks.
Another write-up
Headed my way.
So what?
None of us can
Write or read anyway.
The Society is not
What it used to be.
The Calicos hog the floor.
Between coughing
Up hair balls
They espouse on
Innovative scratching posts
And the hidden
Benefits of sour milk.
Siamese are the worst, though.
Not saying a word. Just
Glaring about in creepy pairs.
"We are Siamese if you please DON'T."
I'm having a blast on my own,
Sitting in this tipped-over
Garbage can in my cozy-dark alley
Enjoying my Heathcliff strip.
Classic. Garfield's overwritten.
Heathcliff's real. My old friend,
Iglesias, a true Burmese,
Says he met the real Heathcliff
Back in '85. I call Bull-litter.
Ah geez,
They're rawring for me now,
Cuz it's my birthday
And they made
Some sort of parfait
Fulla old bananas
And moldy raisins.
So if I'm a total no-show
They're all gonna be
Hissed off.
I better get going.
Thanks for listening
To my PurrCast.
Don't forget to
Lick and subscribe.
This leaf possessed
of newest age,
with zest, upturned.
05 Aug 2014
"Than-Bauk, conventionally a witty saying or epigram, is a three line "climbing
rhyme" poem of Burmese origin. Each line has four syllables. The rhyme is on
the fourth syllable of the first line, the third syllable of the second line, and the
second syllable of the third line" - From Poetry Soup Forms