Best Phoenician Poems
Ancient tombs, of long ago times
Byblos, the walled city, fortress and shrines
Shrouded in mystery, wisdom's, and thyme
The Phoenicians sailed from this very port
Their ships full of knowledge and the alphabet too
And the peoples from times long forgotten
The ancestors of merchants in the souks of now
The oldest city, charmed by the sea
The churches of St Peter, tell the prophecy
Praise the heavens, the God of your heart
In the language of Jesus, love never parts
Aramaic wisdom's, true to this day
Praise God, his love never swayed
Love of mankind
Love of your soul
Love of the creator
Marhaba
---
Marhaba is an Arabic word used in the Middle East as “Hello”.
But most people don’t know its source
Marhaba comes from a Syriac (Aramaic, Assyrian) origin and was used by the first Christians
Mar = Master or God
Haba =Love
Marhaba = God is love
As Catholic churches still give masses in Latin, The Maronite Church still gives sermons in the ancient language of Jesus, Aramaic.
Byblos is an ancient city in Lebanon, Byblos is the Greek name for the Phoenician city called Gebal. Today it is believed by many to be the oldest continuously-inhabited city in the world.
Persian
Phoenician
Armenian
Lebanese
worldly
lovely
my flattery needs fuel
one more glass of wine
grapes and olives building humanity
more beauty, my eyes crave it so
plus infinite wisdom
glasses full of merlot kisses
if a heart beats
it needs endless love
this woman taught me softness
of whom do I speak?
oh la la only the Egyptians knew
the love for your cat is eternal
She calls herself Bunny Boucher, but she was born Veronica Chermak. She’s tall and leggy with a body that looks tidy, yet lived in. She’s high and tight, but flexible like a strong rubber band in a tricked out pinball table. She reminds me of that actress Tracie Lumbar playing the actress Fern Hall in that old movie Iguana Sunset. Her topography leaves no room for global climate change. Her tropics are seductively torrid, while her poles remain perpetually cool; makes you want to straddle her equator with your meridian. She’s been to Mussel Shoals, Shucked Oyster, Bearded Clam, Moose Knuckle, Camel Toe, Beaver Falls, Cottonwood, and Rabbit Patch, just to name a few of her more well-known hangouts. Some would say she looks Greco-Roman, but I’d describe her as looking more like a Hellenized Phoenician who emigrated from Trans-Alpine Gaul, or maybe she looks more Etruscan, with a hint of Minoan when you see her by moonlight. They say she’s as pure as bloodstains on a purloined letter. She traded in her Biblical name soon after she left her home in Mississippi and never spoke of it again. It may be just routine housekeeping, but who could blame a girl for sweeping off her back porch. She recently had a front end alignment. They say her rearview mirror never lets her down. After arriving in New Orleans she passed her bar exam at Vaughan’s on Dauphine and kept the circuit judge disrobed till way past last call. She’s a sexy banshee when she’s in the catbird seat with her cherry basket swinging from a bungee cord. Last I heard she was sharing a dump with a couple Guatemalan dancers. Her room ain’t worth a dollar, but it cost a pretty penny. She pays the rent with a pickup truck full of contraband. She says she needs the space, but not the distance. Like most women, nobody’s ever been able to figure her out. But there is one thing I know for certain, her smoke may sometimes offer you a tempting indication of certain possibilities, but her fire has never been known to lie.
There is something about thy
Odor- almost infallibly refined
An awakening of the senses
A roasting of the oblivious mind
For never have I,
In feeling and thought combined,
Ever lusted for a complexity as such
Of a lover going blind
Even if night and morning
Were to intertwine-
With you I shall soar
Into the ages erstwhile
Sinking in thought
Of Theology implied
And the ages of yore
Of a primordial mankind
Observing the Mesopotamians
Worshiping in their shrines
And the Phoenician ships
Sailing through the Seas of Time
This all takes place
When near thy marvel I lie
Deem me insane
Deem my passion malign
When I claim that a cup of coffee
Is what all this is behind
Dedicated to Eileen who has expressed her love for this beautiful isle.....
Roman mosaics and Phoenician tombs
Byzantine castles and Venetian walls
Pine clad mountains and valleys full of blooms
Windswept wild beaches raked by sudden squalls
Vineyards lay across the land like green shawls
An island of custom and tradition
Yet this stunning land lies in partition
Churches to the south and northward mosques lay
A land in need of redefinition
For reconciliation people pray
The Phoenicians
Past
From turbulent seas
rise mighty noble Phoenicians
sailors and masters in commerce
twenty two constant warriors
ancestors of our language
four vassals, thriving Phoenician pride
furnished the Persian kingdom
from the mountaintops
tall cedars , sculpted to fine ships
humanity forever
sleeps in Byblos
ancient city bathed in
supple cream soft moonlight
sea winds carry messages
ancestors whispered to me
Fragmented, listless
an abandoned seashell
split in pieces
like Phoenicia
There is a body stronger than the flesh alone
it is the body of your love, that temple built of desire's stone
quarried from the chaos of your erotic emotions, shaped by destiny's moan,
where neurotic nerves, psychotic passions, fanatical faith and romantic rose chrome
are imported from the four corners of your heart, brought to the mount of your soul zone
upon here, obedience and freedom, submission and domination chalk and chisel to the bone,
the flame of Shekinah seduces spirit within and without your psychic cyclone
as age becomes an aggregate of obsession's ascensions and avalanches in cycles for you to atone,
Egyptian magicians and Phoenician mariners could only dream of your pulsing fortune,
what do magic rites and the mines of Ophir have to entice with compared to your throne
Hiram, the builder of holy royal bastions would seek the secrets of your star storm home -
J.A.B.
Brutus Iulius Trois page 08
Suddenly stillness all sounds silenced the last pirate slain.
From the bowels of the Tireme came cheers that grew louder
From men newly freed from their enslavement to the Thracian oars
Phyrgians, Scythians, Mysians and Lycians
all hittite clansmen, kinsmen and allies of the Trojan tribes
also were heard loud laudations from the surviving Phoenicians
with softer lamentations for those they had lost.
The Phoenician Teresh, the purple merchant of Tyre
swore blood brotherhood to Brutus
binding the Trojans to the Sea people in perpetuity
giving his twelfth son Tursha to squire the Trojan
Tursha terrified in the sea battle had hidden in the hold
praying to Mercury the patron of merchants
Brutus renamed the boy Turonus and proclaimed him a Trojan
Brutus sent this new nephew to tend to Imogen
In the sad sea green eyes of this foster child
Imogen saw echos of her own recent woes
comforting him she found comfort herself.
When the Trojan siege had ended by trickery
When the city was sacked and the Palladium taken
The Greeks left a land salted with blood and bone
The Greeks left a desolated city with defiled temples
The Greeks left cursed with their own profane deeds.
The Greeks left the Trojan traitor Antenor king with nothing to rule
To abate the Greek curses caused by Locrian Ajax's vile deeds
The Pythia at Delphi declared a thousand years of atonement
with two Locrian priestesses sent as sacrifices to Troy
sent to serve Minerva's temple in Troy, bearing the Ajaxian curse.
As the oracle demanded Diomedes returned the Palladium to Aeneas
Then did all Greek suffering cease, Ulysees returned home.
Hesione's son Teucer founded a new Salamis in Cyprus.
When Antenor rebuilt Troy's walls, Neptune shook them down
sending waves that washed away fields, salting the gardens again.
Apollo plagued Antenor with mice which ate the harvest to the seed.
Scamander's golden spring lambs, sickened and died
Afraid of what Minerva would do if they killed the Locrian Scapegoats
Antenor and his sons soon abandoned Troy to the Phyrgians
They sailed off seeking shelter far from this thrice cursed homeland
now in his mind there are many gears
rusty but funtional.
they meter out the letters and create words
that may even form a Structure from time
to time.
iron oxide filled metallic brown bullfrogs
line up along the inside of his head.
synonymous with repetative lauguage but
they prove to be
good fishermen with poles made of
wrenches
and lines anchored with decayed
bolts and strange adverbs.
sometimes the rust flakes off his toungue
and
you can almost hear @#$% this not again.
but he is steadied by a cup of folgers dry
roast in a white styrofoam cup.
he is comforted by the fact that the world
has
coffee filled styrofoam cups.
this world cannot get by on mere
loaves and fishs he thinks...
now the lines have become to heavy and
grandiose they are ready to....
snap..
fall apart...
come undone...
perhaps the malaria has set in again he
got it from a metallic
mosquito with the head of a syringe in
juarez mexico.
in his delerium..
beside his delerium..
underneath his delerium...
he deconstructs ancient alphabets..
english..
greek...
aramaic...
phoenician ....
cuniform. .. UnTil.. aLL.. T.hat
.." is.. le,ft..is H&ro6lyphics^^.
he feels it is enough for now and grabs
the spray bottle...
For he had all the choices in the world
All the luxuries, the best and most sumptuous fare
All the wealth and splendor ... no bother nor care
Yet the backwaters and stable, not Jerusalem
He chose for my sake, my salvation
Generations since Adam and Seth, Noah and Abraham
Yearned to see His face; so my God with Skin On
Chose Mary's womb, an illiterate village maiden
In honoring a simple village girl
My President over Souls and Limitless Constellations
Welcomes every race, gender, color, and all nations
In His Bosom of Forgiveness, if we repent, change direction
What a Leader, what a King, O my very own President
Who created both Jerusalem and Bethlehem, all in the firmament
Walked with simple fishing men, all across the Promised Land
And rode that Last Passover, on a donkey, what a precedent
He healed any who wanted to be healed; yes, before their "time,"
Like the Gentiles, when He had come for the House of Israel then
Faith and desperation, for crumbs like a dog, Phoenician or Centurion
Reveals the currency of this President: Faith in God's Son=One Atonement
Spring doth bring
Pairing of the loons
Apples blooming on the branch
Lemons scent, as birds so sing
Woods so wet, never ceasing waves
The tides push madly, crashing
Upon the springtime waves
Chanting and ebbing out to sea
Life lifting music, concertos
Sound woodwinds so light
I look for my other, my connected to be
Welcoming nearness as spring did the trees
Sights and sounds of bodies of water and forest alike.
I swim in Indigo Ocean
Caressed by nakedness in fields of kelp.
I lie and float, breast above, waiting
On a kind of true love.
Aching motionless just to be discovered
My feminine Phoenician name.
Divine you are.
I list your flesh just for myself.
Face, hands, limbs, head to toe
Love-flesh that swells my
Being and makes my heart grow.
Mysticism in air, as un-nameable
Madness amore’.
Things I long to whisper
But too shy in this moon light
The sea lit up by moon and stars.
I am possessed by all of you
And celestial touch from above.
Never escape me, oh never flee
Your abandonment would leave
A shell of what used to be me.
Your touch still seared deep within my skin.
Nevermore, my possessor, utterly stop your
Whispers to me.
I tremble with passions.
My time alone, not encroached upon by you,
But loving you give unselfishly give yourself to me.
To separate two lovers skin,
Once they have bonded,
Outer and in.
If lost, I’d dream of your lustful touch,
Of trembling without my passion,
The soul I found in you.
Could this be more than life,
An oath, a promise, a romantic friendship
Those two beauties had never shared.
Stake all on that blissful moment and enjoy
It within me.
Wouldst thou for me an air
upon thy tortoise lyre
play, and sing those words so fair
about the Isle of Tyre?
Within whose walls so grand,
there at bazaar would be
hangings made by weaver's hand,
and colored from the sea.
And ships of cedar made,
all crewed by seamen bold,
sailed to shores afar, to trade
for silk and spice and gold.
Consoled by sweet refrain,
I dwell in dreams of Tyre--
going home will e'er remain
my unfulfilled desire.
_______________
The ancient Phoenician city-state of Tyre, an island off the southern coast of Lebanon, was famous for its production of the prized Tyrian purple dye derived from the murex snails found in its waters. --WW
© 2018 Wayne Wysocki
Blackbirds up against the sun.
The 4th horseman has begun.
The reign of terror.
By the insane light-bearer.
Lucifer is true to her,
Mother Earth...
Rising from the ashes
By the hearth.
Phoenician fireplaces
Within our heart.
The beginning is near,
No end to fear.
Come on,
Die young.
Sing the song you have always sung.
Keep those vibrant lungs.
As the world remains spun,
Remember that you're having fun.
Life is tied up in bun,
Waiting to be undone.
Freedom breathes;
Freedom lives.
This that addles the brain
is not of opium or some such stuff
It has a special recipe :
Stardust and cuckoo eggs
slowcooked in the bile that rose in Cain
flavored with Phoenician almonds
chilled in the eyes of the subSaharan mom
holding close her starving child in vain
So that one grazing lazily
undismayed by slaughter to right and left
dreams of chewing the cud at end of day
When the prattle of pompous priests is done
and once again
one readies eagerly for futile dreams
in unending rain
On islands beautiful
in the azure blue, boundless
live outgoing kings
(with no kingdom here).
Oh, my poor Phineas !
Madman!
Why did you let out the secret of the gods?
Are you passing now
your uneven tongue
on the sweat skin?
Aren’t you breathing the stench?
Bless!
That’s a mercy!
The harpies – the pure
prize of the God.
And the entire blindness.
Blissful are the starving in their bodies –
do not call the wings of the wind.
Do not curse the messenger silverbowed –
he’s only an arm (with no pitty).
Accurate.
Stow it!
Stow it!
Stow it!
Let everyone find
Golden fleece,
find the devine
Medeas,
Kadam teeth
out of his throat by himself
to pull out …
Then forever
you’ll be dead.
*****
In Greek mythology, Phineas (also spelled Phineus, F??e?? ) was a Phoenician King of Thrace.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phineas