Atyrau and Mangystau, two twin lands,
From the start, we’re kin, united we stand.
We’ve endured the heat like a patient steed,
And in the frost, like a black stallion, we lead.
Through heat and cold, we’ve been thoroughly burned,
Like dried meat, we’ve become, hard and turned.
We’re the last of the wolves, survivors we claim,
From many fierce fires, we’ve risen, aflame.
If you ask where we're from, we hail from Zhylyoi,
For our Kazakh, we stand; we can’t help but employ.
Our sacred Kazakhstan, its Constitution so grand,
We won't let it be treated like a mere handkerchief, bland!
They think we’re meek and gentle, this they believe,
But our land we’ll defend, we will not leave.
For our land, we’ll struggle, we’ll fight till we die,
Even if they sweep our skin, we’ll rise and reply.
Cursed by the malice of narrow minds,
Or perhaps ensnared by deceitful designs,
Its azure waves no longer crash the shore—
The White Zhaiyk* no longer overflows as before.
Inmate are the waves that once struck the shore,
Now bearing the weight of human error’s more.
Choked within, its mighty soul suppressed,
The Zhaiyk* departs, unbidden, unconfessed.
Hiding its sorrow, resilient and strong,
The White Zhaiyk* was carry own pain along.
Even as its lifeblood seeps into the sands,
Its wounded soul still sings and withstands.
Gone are the fishermen casting their nets,
The gulls’ cries no longer, their sun has set.
Instead, a stranded shore greets you today,
With ships marooned, lifeless in disarray.
Zhaiyk* – the river in west of Kazakhstan
Our land is rich with naughty and talents rare,
My fate lingers in verses steeped in despair.
Think of Zhyloy* when one mentions Aibek's name,
And think of Aibek when Zhyloy earns acclaim!
At times we are a desert, at times a deep sea,
At times we're heavy, at times light and free.
I am boundless, vast as Zhylyoi's embrace,
For we are twins, inseparable in grace!
Sometimes I am present, sometimes I seem gone,
At times I'm carefree, at times sorrow is my song.
In joy or grief, whatever my plight,
I always return to Zhyloy's light.
At times my strength overwhelms, a mighty force,
At times my ways seem unclear, changing course.
To understand me, you must possess a heart,
As beats for the homeland, of which I'm a part.
*Zhyloy – the region of Kazakhstan, where I was born.
My country is my motherland!
Keep grow up! And grow up!
When such buitifull country I have,
To move to another country I can't!
My country is the door I entered,
My golden cradle in the life.
About Kazakhstan to you my friend,
In golden letter I will write.
My country is my golden threshold!
My kidney and my head is safe!
Protect from enemies O, my God!
And from the war my country escape.
My country is a big shield,
It support as home on my back.
For the country, for the mother field,
I give if needed my life!
My country is my big family,
A sovereign country my happiness!
I''ll take strength from you anyway,
Without my country I''ll be loss!
Though ice may coat my outward guise,
Inside, my Kazakh flame still flies!
Oh, my people, for your rise,
I was born to seek the skies!
Why must a chosen few divide,
The land’s vast wealth, its rightful pride?
The fight goes on, unyielding and strong,
For every soul here should belong.
From child to elder, none denied,
In this nation's treasures, all have a side.
Gold, copper, gas, and uranium’s glow,
God has blessed this land below!
A noble people, pure of blood,
Once sacred, now tainted by greed’s flood.
The system corrupt, we point in blame,
But we must cleanse hearts to heal the same.
The greedy devour, their hunger obscene,
True equality could only redeem.
Yet those who bring strife, chaos, and shame,
Will bear the curse of the people’s name.
Though death may come, a shroud their due,
They’ll lie in earth, no riches in view.
With my verses, I seek to inspire,
To light the youth with a brighter fire.
Empower the youth, and watch them soar,
Dreams fulfilled, they’ll strive for more.
Proudly they'll call this land their own,
In a future of peace, the Kazakh is known!
Do not separate the child from the mother,
Do not separate the mother from the child!
The fire of life will fade and hope cease,
If separated black from white of eye just in case!
With courage firm, with the belt tightly tied,
Did he come for my country, my land, with pride?
My people, my Kazakhstan, my sister,
Did they believe it would never fall to the enemy's whisper?
Has longing reached him, sleepless and sore?
Has it come like a foal, grieving, and poor?
To the mother, heartbroken, chest full of pain,
Grant her patience, O Creator, grant her strength again!
Rise up!
People, rise and stand tall!
Don’t stay silent, don’t remain small!
Isn’t the blood of all Kazakhs one and the same,
A tear from a mother’s eye, in sorrow and flame?
Rose-tinted strata,
Earth's flesh peeled back reveals ancient dreams.
Blue veins pulse beneath the desert's sleeping face.
Coral ripples freeze
In stone waves as time's tide
Catches mid-flow.
Twin pools of salt
Mirror dead moons.
Wind-carved canyons twist
Like DNA strands
Earth's code Written in stone.
Pink arterial paths
Lead nowhere and everywhere.
Cellular walls built from centuries of silence;
Nature paints herself in mineral dreams.
Geological eyes stare up at satellites.
As Earth looks back.
Each layer says
A millennium's story.
Crystalline thoughts preserved in sediment
Earth remembers.
What was the ocean once,
Now dreams of water.
Time flows like honey through limestone valleys:
Sweet eternal pause.
In the end, we're all just layers in stone.
(Inspired by Danial Kordan's Photography of Kazakhstan)
I have to ask of my good friend Jan
who lives far away on the isle of man
why on earth you went for a silly brain scan?
I would like to know what's up, what's the plan?
Is it to prove once and for all
that women are superior and smarter than man?
surely if true, all the blondes will fast become fans
however if correct, you can no longer call me Sam
you'll have to call me Sandra now, or I wont give a dam
come to think of it, I am so smart I might become tran
if you think I am funny, I am, I am Borat from Kazakhstan
I am, I am, I am Sandra not Sam
We searched for your slanting eyes
as you plucked a dombra
on hills of Kazakhstan
your circles of light
dancing, leaping, gyrating
making heath grow
in bundles
It sang your mission
Heaven on Earth
Heaven on Earth
ropes loosened, dangled
Where to ?
Into One Source
where we created you
so that love can
jump again in
black lashes
Drunk with the ecstasy of Divine Love
Dears emerge in union to sing praises
For victories as burdens lift and fall
Lift and fall
Drums rolling, trumpets toppling
Showing the way
All is blue, soft and sapphire
Waterfalls flow through our veins
Connecting strings and strands
As the Star of Dimash
Fill spring flowers in our lands
Dears ! Leap up to where
Ancestors gaze in silent wonder
Sitting in unspeakable joy of
Visions of light on the hills of our Globe
No expectations or judgement
As we take the notes of Dimash
Locking open our hearts to embrace
Ancient grids connecting
In exuberance
Run, dance, leap
Melt your luminous beauty
Listening to songs of wonder
Knowing deep in our own central suns
That the time is here
In an unfathomable fountain of
Powerful Peace
Mr. Putin's 'green men' are in for a surprise
Invading Ukraine is most unwise
Ukraine's not Belarus or Kazakhstan
Her citizenry's primed, ferocious they'll stand
The longer any invasion goes on
The more Russia will know that she's wrong
The Ukrainians will be roarin' out shootin'
And the whole world's against you, Mr. Putin
NOTE: I have not structured this form with iambic feet or any other meter. I found this form suits my faith in Jesus as LORD, closest to how I feel: SONnet
OCTAVE:
LORD, as morn yields to noon (or dawn) my SONnet will please, tease, release:
I greet thee, having access to Your throne by Jesus
And His sacrifice on Calvary: We pray against the Virus
With a sunshiny name, an aura of a name, "a garland" ...
Corona Virus, COVID-19, or SARS-Cov-2, Thy Hand
Is mighty and righteous, always Righteous, even in judgment
God of Grace and Love, forgiveness and Provisioning
Forgive me my greed, envy, jealousy, smallness and scheming
SESTET:
I intercede for others now ... as I taught in Gauteng, I now follow:
Make a prayer list, or start a Wall of Prayer at home. Workshops in 2019
With the plea: "U give 8 hours a day to your boss, why not time for God?"
All countries that begin with the letter "K" even if I privilege Kenya
Bless KOREAs (both) Kuwait, LORD do "save" - the Middle-East from war
Kazakhstan, and other former USSR republics, now with "ENTERPRISE" (free)
In the heat of a passionate encounter
Do you ever stop and think
“Wonder what's for din-din?”
Seems all our thoughts and energy
Are devoted to the task at hand, so to speak
So much so that it feels like our head will explode
Then that indescribable moment
When the trumpets blow
And a band of angels start singing, “Hallelujah!”
Are we interested in who won the big game last night
Or the political situation in Kazakhstan
Well I can surely tell you here and now
Because at that indescribable moment of joy
I REALLY don't give a poop!
The building could come crashing down around me
I'm intent on finishing what I started
Come hell or high water
Did you ever stop and wonder
What's for din-din tonight?
The Corsican was never really Gallic.
The Austrian was not remotely Prussian.
Jugashvili (let's put this in italics)
could not be, in a month of Sundays, Russian.
The point of Communism is, it's global,
or else it's nothing. Swimming or it's dead,
like sharks, it fans out (kind of like Chernobyl).
Like peanut butter, it was made to spread.
This in-one-country nonsense once held sway
(Archangel, all the way to Kazakhstan),
but when he died, his system blew away,
as do all systems centred on one man.
Napoleon's snowball stopped with "Viet Cong".
The wonder is, it lasted quite so long.
In the heat of a passionate encounter
Do you ever stop and think
“Wonder what's for din-din?”
Seems all our thoughts and energy
Are devoted to the task at hand, so to speak
So much so that it feels like our head will explode
Then that indescribable moment
When the trumpets blow
And a band of angels start singing, “Hallelujah!”
Are we interested in who won the big game last night
Or the political situation in Kazakhstan
Well I can surely tell you here and now
Because at that indescribably moment of joy
I REALLY don't give a poop!
The building could come collapsing down around me
I'm intent on finishing what I started
Come hell or high water
Did you ever stop and wonder
What's for din-din tonight?
© Jack Ellison 2014
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