Long Ancestors Poems
Long Ancestors Poems. Below are the most popular long Ancestors by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ancestors poems by poem length and keyword.
He wanted to count his blessings the other day
all the blessing that have come his way….
but much to his chagrin
as his list he began creating
once he started contemplating
he wasn’t sure…where to begin
Should he start with his mom and dad…
and all the memories they had?
After all…their blessings started him on his way.
Should he start this blessing climb
back to an earlier time
to his ancestors…who helped to make him who is is today?
Should he start with the oceans and the trees
the birds, the butterflies…the bees
All the blessings that await outside his door?
Should he start with all the food that keeps him fed
all the books that he has read…
all those who have allowed his imagination to soar?
Should he start with his friends and family
who help him every day to see?
Surely in his life they’ve played an important part.
They’ve picked him up when he’s been down
brought a smile to every frown
they continue to caress his soul and touch his heart.
Then from deep within his heart
he knew where he should start…
and immediately he began to grin….
for the greatest of his blessings…
is having so many of them…that he doesn’t know where to begin.
Since the day that I first left
Looking back,
Through different windows
Knowing there will be reft
I am for what I am, and I'll be
I am for what I am, you'll see
I found it hard to explain
The actions of our cause
Highlanders against the Lowlanders
Simply because
I am for what I am, and I'll be
I am for what I am, you'll see
The answers and reactions
To which they promptly, replied
Trust and honour abounds
And pity those who lied
I am for what I am, and I'll be
I am for what I am, you'll see
I'm now in an enviable position
To look back on my ancestors so
I'm Scottish, the son of Kane
From my days so long ago
I am for what I am, and I'll be
I am for what I am, you'll see
My name is semaj, The Highlander
I've come back from your future so
To an earth in rutted grief
And allow your tomorrow flow
I am for what I am, and I'll be
I am for what I am, you'll see
All Nations should be accounted
North and South Hemispheres
To allow you to continue
Allay our space age fears
I am for what I am, and I'll be
I am for what I am, you'll see
It's the reason I have returned
To Scourie is where it started
Your future wormhole lies
For me, it's where I departed
I am for what I am, and I'll be
I am for what I am, you'll see
We can only take,
The ones who'll live so free!
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy.php
'Tis it better to know, or not to know?
Now there's the rub!
The dilemma in a Pandora paradox.
Sure it's nice to get to know yourself, but not entirely,
for the abyss within the cage will return the gaze.
Better, perhaps to not know that the killer asteroid
arrives tomorrow at half past ten.
Nor what's in all the horror-scopes you yen,
in learning what Science
tells us about the Universe, now and then.
These telescopes peer deeper and deeper
into the abyss telling us that:
The universe began a trillion trillion years ago.
There are a trillion trillion stars out there.
The more you look, the more you see back in time.
Ah Hah! There's a new Earth waiting for us out there,
lying a trillion trillion miles away.
It will take us a trillion trillion years to get there.
Are we better off knowing or not knowing all of this?
Is Ignorance Indeed - Bliss?
Oh my, what we missed when stopped
looking into the sky with ancient eyes!
Behold the swirl of 'Starry Starry Night'.
Bickering Gods, with unblinking eyes staring down on human folly.
Portals to ancestors and spirits resplendent in heaven.
The wonders, calendars, navigation guides and signs above.
The body of the goddess Nut, in the arch of the Milky Way,
cradling dead Pharaohs ascended as new stars.
A hunter draws his bow.
A bull charges.
An emu struts and prances beside a billabong.
Perseus lifts the serpent’s head.
It was all such a living lively show
in the wondrous sky above.
It should never have become
a map of pin-pricks for nitwit twits
blinking into oblivion
in endless useless overreach.
Why? It's beyond me.
Alone within emotional wilderness
(mine) biding leisure time
January 19th, 2020
without reason nor rhyme,
yet woke with sublime
pained acute awareness,
how once prime
merrily rightful autochthonous occupants
their land stole equivalent value
not much more'n dime.
Simple man dwells admiring
mother nature's architrave
home of the free land of the brave
usurped with exacting vengeance
aboriginal happy hunting grounds,
yours truly cloistered within man cave
small medium at large eremite doth crave
indigenous tribes Europeans
did wantonly annihilate
and/or make deprave
viciously slaughtering Native Americans
nsync brutality wrecking
their idyllic enclave
foreigners forcibly corralling
subsequently did enslave
ruthlessly employing sacrilegious travesty
scattered smite stricken survivors
formidable invaders (countless
demoniacal explorers) rendered desolate
pristine unbroken woodland
deceit, guile, iniquitous
jawboning flavor flav,
whether or not ancestors (mine)
even tangentially linkedin
egregious mockery, travesty
yours truly never forgave
horrendous genocide early settlers
wrought onto indigenous peoples
hoodwinked, notoriously
thrashed "noble savage"
feigning burying hatchet until
last proud redman buried in his grave.
Similar saga countless instances played across
four corners of globe,
white man self anointed himself boss
subsequently slaying innocent lives
all in name of Christ crucified on cross
denying original rightful inhabitants
their preexisting misnamed
new found lands
invaders justified execrable massacres
on par with clearing away dross
trumpeting art of the deal (albeit) gross
and unfair, whereat decimated loss
lovely bones long since
covered over with moss.
In Earth's future Golden Age,
during Her time of Gaia Polyamorous,
thou shalt become reborn
Not solely known as soulless Ancestors,
transported here
as Earth's lonely Passion Singing Species,
whose reweaving warps and wars take place
only on sacred dance floor space
A natural neurosensory race
toward matriarchally enlightened
pan-enthusiastic empowerment.
Sage musicians
known for Gaia's highest and best use
of non-abuse,
co-infested Taoist Real-Woke Estates
Wu-Wei wondering
why bodhisattva children have been left
unsafe and bereft
Suffering for capital sins
of Straight White Patriarchs
not quite monotheistically blessed enough
from zealous toxic dregs
of thine owned Anthropocene
idolatrous image.
Not sufficient gratitude
for positive neurosystemic attitude
blessed by Love Song sacraments
designed by WaterBearers
PreGaian Peace Warriors
poor in herstoric spirit
wistfully disinheriting caste-preserving sins
of non-womanist failure
to follow Truth and Beauty balance
Success in leading
LeftBrain-RightWing systemic
neuro-sexsensory
polyculturally inter-religious
intelligence
Without Historical Stage
capitalized credentials,
Win/Win compassionately amusing
Gaian Pleasure's Sun
Of crucifying crosses
bearing dispassionate sins
of unpleased
Straight White Western Patriarchs
Who would rather fight
to win peace
than sing resonant Love Songs
Dance Lust Longs
to belong more resiliently impassioned
Universal Crowns
Sweaty salvation
for bodhisattva Gaian Goddesses
Unitarian Roots
co-redeeming
EarthTribe's sacred psalms,
indigenous proverbs
rooted in sacred animus
crowned by organic animation
While sacred musing
Gaia's stirring organic musicians
Singing Species songs.
Disconnected
I wish my child could write a poem and open his channels
I need my channels open too, because no one’s talking to me.
My loved ones and disliked ones whom have made their
transition, none of them will talk to me, they pay me no attention.
I need communication from the other side.
I got channels to open, no one’s talking to me...not even my child.
They gave my child a vaccination, which was so sadistic,
they knew this batch of
medicine could leave my child Autistic.
So, I called upon the ancestors to help
communicate.
My babies like a zombie, there's no light in his eyes;
They told me that he'd be just fine, but they were telling lies.
The side effects were harmful, more harmful than the cure,
I hate what I am thinking now, I know my thoughts impure.
My child is now a prisoner he is buried deep within
no wit, personality, or charm....
That dag-blasted vaccination has caused my baby harm!
I would love to hear the voice of my disconnected child.
I call upon my ancestors, but only the wind is blowing;
Sadly, I sit, moping all alone.
I call upon my forefathers/and mothers...
I got channels to open.
I try to hold my child; my hug is rejected;
I want to reach my baby-
But he is now Dis-connected!
Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2010
My life just didn’t start when I was born
It is interwoven with those who have come before
Many people make up who I am
Some I have met but for a few short years
Others have been gone long before I am
From far-away lands they came to be
Looking for a better life for them and me
From all kinds of walks in life were they
But yet each has made an impact in some way
As my hair could be curly or straight
My eyes could be as dark as the night
Or as blue as the sky
My skin could be light or dark,
Or any shade in-between
My genes are what my ancestors gave to me
Whether it be shaping the country
Or shaping me
Their journey continues even in me
You are telling them to leave to go wandering in the street; you are telling them to leave when there's nothing in the pantry to eat. Their ancestors have journeyed across the red sea when the pharaoh pronounced the annihilation decree, they had one choice to live or die or survive from manner falling from the sky.
They finally decide to go when the pharaoh wrath sunk into the ground and the middle man lost his crown. He could not bear to see them go so he came right in the middle of the show and snatch the people away.
The heavens would not have it so and smoke came billowing from the skies and destiny watches from the hill and signal to them to keep still.
Freedom came at a price and they had to make some bloody sacrifice. They came out of Egypt with whips across their backs and cross the red sea with a miracle from thee. The signal was strong and the message was pure when the journey got rough mercy come knocking at their door.
You are telling me to leave when supplies are low and there are no resources to complete the show, it has been like this for many years, there were no resources to spare, I have to pick up sticks and use waste paper to get the message in the air.
You are telling me to leave when there is only one way in and one way out. We can’t go to the east or we will fall right back into sea; we can’t go to the west; it is where Montezuma made his conquest.
The north is in the belly of the beast and you will starve to death when the winter is set. It is cold and dry and no moisture is in the eye, the land is destitute and the north steals your valuable youth.
The south will make good company and give you some new money, the Egyptian have everything and they will make you sing.
There is no other way to go but in the hands of your old slave master to rekindle the legacy of King Tuft diligence in an inferno underneath the ground but the journey will take you where destiny is bound.
You tell us to leave to make another journey in the wilderness and no place to take a rest, we will leave by the thousands before missiles come raining down from the sky, you don’t have to worry; the stars will take care of us and the heavens will protect us from the dust.
And so they hit the road with a book and a bag and a bottle of water to wet their throat we are leaving!
#Come_let's_pray
Bring me the drum, the world is losing shape, I wanna beat echoes of my forefathers, rekindle my roots to take course, Africa and the world needs spiritual intervention, now
Take off my shoes, this journey is sacred, the sound from my drum wakes much more than anticipated,
I hear prophets with tongues, pleading for hope and safety,
The Rastafarians burning the cannibal, Islams and Hinduism both bowing up and down, Allah and Heil se lassie summoned
my listening ear continues to vibrate as it receives sangomas clapping hands with respect , communicating the enough is enough message to the ancestors
There's a backing of humming Christians , worshipping . Others kneeling while others standing, raising high their hands, pleading with the creator
My hands intensifies on the drum, the beating impacts my surrounding, traditional healers, medical doctors, seers and fortune tellers, hand to hand like a chain , the problem connects us,
Our differences invisible, all hearts dripping with pain, the sufferings pierces every blood dripping flesh,
These murders, these sicknesses, the violence, hunger, poverty and all sorts of crimes against humanity, like a slave's back, tattooed with stripes from his masters cane, the blisters visible on all our faces,
we are now forced to the prayer, come lets pray
#Poetic_Ink
A place that was once beautiful and economically progressive
It was once a dream where Maranaos used to live
Their culture is as wealthy as ancestors side
A heritage of greatness runs on their pride
A place that was once beautiful is ruined by fire
Many lives were killed because of bad man's desire
Houses were burned and all hopes were lost
Blood was everywhere showing immeasurable cost
A place that was once beautiful is now filled with fear
War outraged in the city and so as His tears
The explosives and bullets were man-made destruction
It caused wide famine and life annihilation
A place that was once beautiful is now left with dusts
A glitter shining yesterday just turned to rust
It was once a rich place filled with happiness
Now a dark city covered with grief and emptiness
A place that was once beautiful is now a ruined city
I'd like to think that Marawi is in state of tranquility
Every wound from the war will be healed by time
A place that is ruined will soon rise on His time.