Long Arrogant Poems
Long Arrogant Poems. Below are the most popular long Arrogant by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Arrogant poems by poem length and keyword.
"THE BIRD CANNOT FLY"
No matter how hard he flaps his wings body won’t lift,
is it obesity or small wings?
He shouldn’t devour the food mother
fed him but do some exercise for flying,
worse yet,
he pecked on and bit siblings
in order to snatch all the food
the mother brought back causing them all to die;
his gluttonous appetite and cruel treatment made
him incapable of lifting his body in the air;
if a bird cannot fly, he is not a bird anymore
then, where to go and what to become to fly in the air.
"THE BIRD LOST SONG"
Although he had a beautiful voice
he drank sweet wines to have a more beautiful voice,
he smoked marijuana to have a more voluminous voice;
blinded by brilliant stage lights and fancy spots,
intoxicated from the shouts of fans, he ruined himself
in the tremendous popularity,
his fame made him arrogant, he fell into narcissism,
he jumped up and down on the stage and soared in the air
to tear down the floodlights hanging from the ceiling,
foolish enough to think that his feathers are brighter
more luminous than the floodlights; flapping his glittering wings,
he fell from the ceiling and was sucked into a bottomless pit.
"THE BIRD WITHOUT FEATHERS"
The starlight reflecting on a treetop is so beautiful
though he knew he couldn’t fly anymore, he stretched
open his old and infirm wings and flapped, looking at the sky,
to soar in the air; alas, Zeus’s thunderbolt struck him that moment.
His body was torn to pieces, his feathers were plucked away,
and because of all his cuts and bruised body, the remaining plumage
lost its splendorous colors; no matter how well he took care,
lost glossiness never to be restored, no matter how gently he combs,
his feathers fall out feebly;
when he looks back, he was a prisoner of vice
he was obsessed by insatiable lust,
the flower is so colorful
it smelled so sweet, he kept following
bewitched by the beauty of its alluring looks;
before he was aware of it, he got stuck in the mud, sunk into
the depth of vice; and though, he got out from mud just before
he was suffocated to death, his entire body was covered with
the scabs of evil,
the water flows, though he has no strength
to cross the river any more, it’s time to, he may be
washed away by the water, or dip himself in the water
to wash his scabs of evil out.
KING ALFRED THE GREAT MODERN ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS
King Alfred the Great (c. 849-899), arguably the first great king of England, may have done more to lay the groundwork for English literacy and literature than any other English monarch. And he was quite the scholar himself, although there is no consensus that the following translations were primarily Alfred’s work. He could have done the translations himself; he could have overseen the work; or he may have commissioned the translations. No one really knows.
Alfred the Great undertook to translate “the most needful works for all men to know.” He wanted to succeed “both in war and in wisdom.” Alfred has also been credited with helping to develop a new English prose style.
The Meters of Boethius: Prelude or Verse Preface
attributed to King Alfred the Great, circa 880 AD
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Thus begin the tales King Alfred taught us.
The great West Saxon ruler, in his cunning,
Understood the art of all songmen,
Revealed his great skill as a poet.
Keenly he longed for Saxons to craft such songs,
To make men merry with manifold amusements,
To ward away world-weariness with pleasing poems.
Alfred loved poetry for its art and power,
Longed for it to free men from both boredom and pride.
But the arrogant man, in his self-importance,
Pays little heed to wise words. Still I must speak,
Begin my singing, weave tales well-known
For attentive mortals. Hear me, if you will.
Boethius Lay I: The Goths
from King Alfred the Great's Meters of Boethius, circa 880 AD
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Long ago the Goths left Scythia,
swarms of shieldmen streaming from the east,
two savage tribes tramping southward,
both growing in greatness year by year.
Under the rule of two remarkable kings,
Raedgod and Aleric, their people prospered.
Many Goths made it across the Alps,
intent on conquest, raging with war-lust.
Braying brazen battle-boasts, eager to attack
the awaiting Romans, their armor flashing,
stout shieldmen descended, waving war-banners
and slashing swords.
They intended to overrun Italy...
Keywords/Tags: Alfred the Great, Old English, Anglo-Saxon English, Boethius Translations, West Saxon, poet, poetry, art, power, pride, wise, wisdom, king, kings, leadership, war, battle, England, literature, words
Salam, how are you there?
Wassalam, good, Alhamdulillah
How about the issue in Sabah
Nothing to worry
I am worried because you are my friend
I am okay; just want to know your opinion
No probs, what do you think of that opinion?
Does it hurt you personally?
Nope, it makes sense
I am not personally taking part, I have my own problem
Indeed but I am so sad, many don’t understand the situation
They are taking one side condemning Suluk in general
So as the other Suluk in Sulu archipelago
Many also condemning Melayu in general
I always think about others
My cousin, a policeman is in the frontline
I am so sad, pray hard
Please cry with me
I am here for you to lend your cry
Can I pretend nothing happen?
We can’t pretend to be nothing to happen
Then rest and cry with me
To make people understand is not easy
Sometime we also take time to understand our situation
I am hurt to what happen, we are being fooled by colonisers
They ask us to inherit this misery
Hmmm I am so sorry to hear that
Hopefully you won’t hate the Suluk generally
So, as long as it does not contradict to my stand
What is your stand supposedly?
At least I have one good friend from Jolo ancestry
I am a good friend because you are good
I know nothing about the war; I just wanted to know the peace
It’s really easy to smile and pretend that you are okay
Rather than telling people why you are sad
It’s not easy to imagine that war
I just want to keep it by my self
I wanted to keep this in my sleep
When I wake up tomorrow
Peace is expected to blow
Let have this peace to reign right away
The poem is made through the conversation with Malay friends from Kuala Lumpur about the conflict happened in Lahad Datu. We shall never put the bangsa in general as what we are thinking is right: Suluk is bad and Melayu is arrogant. We need a better understanding to conclude that each bangsa like Suluk and Melayu have nothing to do with the situation. It is a matter of siding the truth and rights. I therefore personally accepted if everyone hates me because I am Suluk and that would make the world stay in peace and to save peace, I am willing to be called such: “Suluk is bad and Melayu is arrogant” but the “country and world is peaceful” is achieved. The war declared ended today by Malaysian authority. Let Us All Save Peace. Layag Sug. 11th March 2013, Sandakan, Sabah, Malaysia!
We were bloody.
Bearing the weight
of a gaping moon like
young Titans-
full of arrogant imagination.
We ran, hellbent.
House after house
playing tricks-
casting spells with
veracious foolishness.
That first pumpkin was
my stepfather. I watched
as his carved out grimace
became the nothingness
I was determined to fill with
chaos.
I screamed the lyrics to our
favorite Hatebreed song down
every street. Letting the Universe
know that no matter how insignificant
the World thought we were.
We would be heard.
All of us, brothers.
Bound by dark matter-
the silent replies to our
prayers that we'd never
admit to sending out;
Together we didn't need
Him, The Devil, or anyone else.
We were fearless, because we had
each other. And the might of bond,
not in blood shared, but spilled as one.
Parents tried to chase us.
Reign us in.
We laughed and taunted-
swinging our pillowcases
full of savory sin with a sense
of joy that only a lost boy could
even begin to understand.
Hands covered in slime, and seed
thundered together and sent out our
cacophony of delight as I tipped over
the HOA's Porta Potty.
Red and blue lights flash.
Someone has had enough.
We escape into the woods.
Sit on the edge of Willow Creek,
and light up a bowl of dirt weed.
The creek was shallow that year.
But, our hearts could fill it up;
All that life pulsing, racing through
our ephemeral- jack'-o-lantern husks.
Smoke signals went up that night.
As we exhaled our silent melancholy.
I think we all had some sort of hope
there, in that place. That our rage
would be sated. That we would be
enough to keep each other safe from
what we could already sense
was encircling us.
We never wore masks.
Not until we got older, grew apart.
And began to see we had to hide
that primal nature inside ourselves to
keep the moon from breaking our
backs. Because, we don't have
each other for that anymore.
But, I'm pulling mine off tonight.
Have a good look-
The scars. The worry lines.
The bloodshot eyes.
That same grimace I tried to destroy-
lighting up the room as if it were
carved to scare you away.
But I am no totem.
No walking masquerade to incite
any sort of terror, or joy for that matter.
I’m just another pumpkin head; candle
dwindling.
Waiting to be smashed.
-James Kelley 2018
This is the house built “right”.
This is the greed bred in the seed
of the foundation of the house built “right”.
This is the arrogant and pervasively resonant
that's born of the greed bred in the seed
of the foundation of the house built “right”.
This is supremacy abiding acceptably
that stinks of the arrogant and pervasively resonant
that's born of the greed bred in the seed
of the foundation of the house built “right”.
This is the racism staining the light prism
casting a blight in its favor of white
that shines with supremacy abiding acceptably
that stinks of the arrogant and pervasively resonant
that's born of the greed bred in the seed
of the foundation of the house built “right”.
This is the ignorance piping the dissonance
and chanting the tune of the morally immune
that fosters the racism staining the light prism
casting a blight in its favor of white
that shines with supremacy abiding acceptably
that stinks of the arrogant and pervasively resonant
that's born of the greed bred in the seed
of the foundation of the house built “right”.
This is the lie as diseased as a fly
that's spreading the ignorance piping the dissonance
and chanting the tune of the morally immune
that fosters the racism staining the light prism
casting a blight in its favor of white
that shines with supremacy abiding acceptably
that stinks of the arrogant and pervasively resonant
that's born of the greed bred in the seed
of the foundation of the house built “right”.
This is the consequence empowered incompetence
brings as a penance we serve as our sentence
for trusting the lie as diseased as a fly
that's spreading the ignorance piping the dissonance
and chanting the tune of the morally immune
that fosters the racism staining the light prism
casting a blight in its favor of white
that shines with supremacy abiding acceptably
that stinks of the arrogant and pervasively resonant
that's born of the greed bred in the seed
of the foundation of the house built “right”.
The oh so "right" have bullyjacked our American Dignity!
WE HAVE THE CURE TO THIS CANCER, THIS HOUSE SHOULD BE CONDEMNED!
-Everyone "left" whom cares enough to speak out against the greatest threat democracy has ever faced and are increasingly aware of the dangerous trajectory America is hurling towards.
be not a receptacle to that spirit of sin
live by the word of God and be open to Him
in this day where the lines of morality have become blurred
where people believe and do all and anything that's absurd
caught up in the grasp of drugs and chemical dependency
caught up in the muck and mire of sexual immorality
yet society tries to explain away any and all aberrant behavior
and a psychiatric evaluation has become acceptable and favored
we're now subjected to the blame of others and their bad actions
subjected to the world's desensitized and apathetic reaction
overcoming the temptation to commit sin
to yield not to that demonic presence again and again
if you don't understand and comprehend the word of God
how do you know if you have any sin in your heart?
you need to read the word of God and follow His commands
the instructions on how to live sinless, God's master plans
to wrestle with the evil that may at times reside within
to overcome that sensation to go out and commit sin
you need to be exposed to God's laws and learn right from wrong
you need to do a self reflection and then come away strong
for it's one thing to do what is sinful if you don't have a clue
but it's a different story when you knowingly sin for the blame is now on you
to be disobedient and stray from God's life living instructions
will lead you down that crooked path of spiritual destruction
so think before you act and then lay it before God
pray on that temptation to sin and possess a contrite heart
to challenge that temptation to commit sin
just dwell on the word of God and not the unholiness of men
yet we continue to try and justify some of the things we do and say
we need to be truthful in our hearts and willing to change our ways
no longer to be arrogant and sanctimonious in this life
to be more humble and repentant as a child of the Lord Christ
we pretend to act like it's not us but everyone else
we need to take a hard look in the mirrors at ourselves first
to come to understand that this battle is not ours alone
to realize we need the strength and the power of the heavenly throne
to be rescued from that temptation of sin that's always hanging around
to be lifted up by the word of God and placed on higher ground
to turn to our savior, the Lord Jesus the Christ
to thank Him and praise Him for the gift of eternal life
Pride goeth before a fall,
It shall be said, long after.
How well the phrase fits this Argive king,
Come far across the wine-dark seas
In his gleaming ships of war
To rape the wealth of other men's homes
All for the sake of a woman;
So it was said.
Here in the smoke of the ruins,
Behind walls breached at the last by treachery,
- 10 years' bloodshed not enough to have battered them down -
Troy's temples lay sacked and belching fumes for incense,
Then here he comes, blazing in bronze, puffed with pride,
To claim you, as his rightful prize alone!
You,
Whom even the gods respect.
Mad you are, blissfully so.
Yours eyes, flashing in your mantic states
See farther and more truly than those
Of any other mortal.
You know the things to be all too well,
For this you were cursed with a great gift of prophecy
Forever doomed to fall upon deaf ears.
But today the curse becomes the gift it should have been,
If to see a proud victor's doom
Riding hard upon his heels, he all unknowing
Be any comfort to the defeated.
He takes you to his death and your own besides,
Mistaking the darkness of your smile
For the resignation of the lost.
He bears home with you the fall of all his house,
Many a proud one shall join you both
In Hades' cold halls ere long has passed.
So bid your mother not despair
To see you taken and treated so lowly;
Bid her rejoice in your ravings,
Tell her raise the torch and call on Hymen
To bless and seal this doom
Which has been set to avenge your righteous dead
Who fell beneath these now so hollow walls.
Exhort her not to weep for her mad daughter,
Who, in being made concubine to this beast
Weds high indeed in final truth,
As through this match she goes to a god,
And he the one most truly feared.
The torchlight flashing
Like starlight in your rolling eyes!
Your beauty as you whirled there,
Absorbed in frenzied grief
Became a sight before which divinity trembled!
Your broken people smiled in pity for you,
Eyes full and dimmed with tears.
Yet it is enough, perhaps, for you alone to know
As you are carried off across the lashing seas
To the enemy land,
The flames of your dead city
Lighting the night's horizon,
Holding in your heart the bittersweet truth none would believe,
You commune with the Eternal,
Bearing gall and misery
To an arrogant fool.
(22) And the pangs of childbirth drove her unto the trunk of the palm-tree. She said: Oh, would that I had died ere this and had become a thing of naught, forgotten! (23) Then (one) cried unto her from below her, saying: Grieve not! Thy Lord hath placed a rivulet beneath thee, (24) And shake the trunk of the palm-tree toward thee, thou wilt cause ripe dates to fall upon thee. (25) So eat and drink and be consoled. And if thou meetest any mortal, say: Lo! I have vowed a fast unto the Beneficent, and may not speak this day to any mortal. (26) Then she brought him to her own folk, carrying him. They said: O Mary! Thou hast come with an amazing thing. (27) O sister of Aaron! Thy father was not a wicked man nor was thy mother a harlot. (28) Then she pointed to him. They said: How can we talk to one who is in the cradle, a young boy? (29) He spake: Lo! I am the slave of Allah. He hath given me the Scripture and hath appointed me a Prophet, (30) And hath made me blessed wheresoever I may be, and hath enjoined upon me prayer and almsgiving so long as I remain alive, (31) And (hath made me) dutiful toward her who bore me, and hath not made me arrogant, unblest. (32) Peace on me the day I was born, and the day I die, and the day I shall be raised alive! (33) Such was Jesus, son of Mary: (this is) a statement of the truth concerning which they doubt. (34) It befitteth not (the Majesty of) Allah that He should take unto Himself a son. Glory be to Him! When He decreeth a thing, He saith unto it only: Be! and it is. (35) And lo! Allah is my Lord and your Lord. So serve Him. That is the right path. (36)The sects among them differ: but woe unto the disbelievers from the meeting of an awful Day. (37) How well they hear and see and hear them on the Day they come unto Us! yet the evil-doers are to-day in error manifest. (38) And warn them of the Day of anguish when the case hath been decided. Now they are in a state of carelessness, and they believe not. (39) Lo! We Only, We inherit the earth and all who are thereon, and unto Us they are returned. (40) And make mention (O Muhammad) in the Scripture of Abraham. Lo! he was a saint, a prophet. (41)When he said unto his father: O my father! Why worshippest thou that which heareth not nor seeth, nor can in aught avail thee?
For more information please visit:
http://www.quranexplorer.com/quran/
My heart is broken.
I am a miserable, lost soul swimming in a world of darkness;
trying to find a piece of myself that has been torn away from me.
I am blinded by emotions.
Unable to regain control of the irrational fantasy world I have built for myself in order to escape a harsh, ironic, and bitter -sweet reality that the rest of you call life.
I’d rather die on my feet than live life on my knees.
I am a shell that was once truly alive.
I have been left empty.
Taken out like trash on a Thursday night.
I was once a person, but I have been destroyed by this cruel thing that is called life.
I’d rather die on my feet than live life on my knees.
I have fallen victim to the cruelty of the human race.
I am ashamed by myself, but more so by others.
The truth is much too vicious and vulgar to accept it as what it really is;
A part of this thing you call life.
I’d rather die on my feet than live life on my knees.
It is said that ignorance is bliss.
That explains why the rest of you walk around thinking you are happy.
You are blind to the severity of the truth that surrounds you.
I am not the only one who had created a fantasy world for myself.
The rest of you are just too caught up in your worlds to even realize that another world exists;
The real world.
I’d rather die on my feet than live life on my knees.
Your “God” is nothing more than an illusion;
Created by the twisted minds that came before us as an arrogant joke.
Used for the soul purpose of making you feel better about yourselves and to repent for your so-called “sins”.
Just another part of this thing you call life.
I’d rather die on my feet than live life on my knees.
I’d rather walk around for the rest of my life thinking I know the truth,
when in all actuality there is no such thing.
It is but a figment of my imagination.
A part of my fantasy world.
And this thing that I call truth is extremely different than the thing that you assume is the truth
in this thing you call life.
I’d rather die on my feet than live life on my knees.
There is a fine line between genius and insanity.
I am unable to figure out which one of these applies to me.
Maybe both; maybe neither.
As I said before, ignorance is bliss; and you all couldn’t be happier.
I’d rather die on my feet than live life on my knees.
Form:
...See, when she let her guard down, when she looked deep,
she saw things that left her somewhat disturbed,
Roxanne didn’t know her man’s favorite color,
and that fact didn’t really upset her.
She didn’t know that much of his home town,
or of the dreams that pushed him on in life,
she didn’t feel the need to learn the things
you normally expected of a wife.
And sometimes she imagined, when they made love,
some of the men she knew in the old days,
she even recalled a fine brothel client
the night that their second daughter was made.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like her Stu,
there was little to criticize in him,
but could she survive without him by her side?
Yes, she could, she realized to her chagrin.
When she realized this she heard that damn man,
her last client back at the bordello,
the man she had dismissed as a sexist,
now she wondered, had he been in the know?
It took her many months to accept this,
it went against all she’d ever been taught.
Could there be truth in his thoughts on women?
And if it was so, then what had she wrought?
Had her teenage self been so arrogant
to think that she could outwit tradition?
Had she destroyed her chance to truly feel
following her 'free-spirited' vision?
She’d always though the restrictions on sex,
at least those placed on the female kind,
had been oppression, acts of injustice,
but now troubling thoughts came to her mind.
If all this was older than what she learned,
if innate truths had long been in action,
why had she not learned about such a threat?
Why had these ideas never gained traction?
Why weren't women being told how things were?
Why all the half-truths of what lay beneath?
Could she have avoided this emptiness
if she'd been warned of what paths not to seek?
And now, nearly forty, it was too late,
she could not change the girl she had once been,
she had lived as they told her to believe,
and now she never could really bond with men.
Roxanne liked her husband, liked Stu a lot,
but she now knew it could never be love.
She wouldn’t divorce, that would hurt her girls,
she would stay with him, she would make it enough.
How would she live, how could she deal with this?
She didn’t even know where to begin,
but she’d do what she could to make sure her girls
both made it to the altar as virgins.