Long Asia Poems
Long Asia Poems. Below are the most popular long Asia by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Asia poems by poem length and keyword.
i was eight
the first time-
i saw Yin-Yang Mountain.
the height of it’s peak
contrasted by
the light on one side
dark on the other.
as the sun travels
from east to west
the color of the slopes change-
the light becoming dark
the dark becoming light.
i stand on the peak of Yin-Yang Mountain
watching the shifting
light and dark.
the line dividing the sinuous halves
is my being.
am I dark or light?
a white line or
a black line?
i am the curve between.
i am the difference.
i am the deciding factor.
i stand now
beside the River of Life.
my feet bare-
i step into the cool waters
observing the shifting reflection
and shadow.
the current swirls the dark and the light.
this life giving, fluid filled gully
brings darkness when one is consumed
by its waters.
above the light is reflected-
below it is swallowed.
soothed i sit-
resting below the shelter
of the Tree of Constance.
the trunk is thick
made of layers of living matter within-
dead matter out.
the dead bark surrounds
the living core-
protecting.
from this sturdy core
branches shoot towards the light.
from those branches shoot buds-
which contain life-giving seeds.
the seeds fall to the ground below.
laying upon the dark
mineral rich earth-
i imagine.
below my body burrow
insects and roots.
they depend upon the fertile
ground for survival.
humans have turned this earth into
a burial ground for the fallen.
the rotting bodies consumed in darkness
feed the creatures who dwell
in the earth.
these departed whisper
knowledge to fallen seeds.
imparting wisdom-
to ensure growth.
I return to the peak-
of Yin-Yang Mountain.
from this peak i observe
the mixture around me.
here on this peak I know
the answers.
i am the wisdom.
this knowledge has paralyzed me.
with this gift i have been silenced.
i am the dividing line-
i am the question.
with faith I fall-
from the peak of Yin-Yang Mountain
into the icy waters of the
River of Life.
it’s turbulent ebb and flow
fills me with life
and destroys me when dragged upon its floor.
i wash upon the shore
gasping for air-
clinging to the root.
I succumb.
i begin to rot-
feeding the earth-
that feeds the tree-
that thrives beside the river-
which dwells upon the slopes
of Yin-Yang Mountain.
here i will remain-
until discovered-
and then understood-
this
my Youth in Asia.
please lemme know and honestly profess
if profusion of words create a lingual Loch Ness
(when hens canst come home to roost
especially, encountering
the following conglomeration
in matthew scott harris patois).
He readily admits writing inventive
attempts usually ten tubby a literary mess,
thus finding innocent cyber cruisers
Angle fishing for Saxony fundamental fluidity
courtesy of Freudian stream of consciousness,
gabbling gibberish, muck not done on purpose
and certainly less
to impress.
Gnome hatter intent toward
cogency, fancy ingenuity,
levity, the inevitable
resultant wrought gobbledygook
fascination for Lingua Franca
feeble endeavor splutters, splinters,
and splatters Asia Yukon guess.
Paramour status analogous with twenty six letters,
sans En gull Lush Mother tongue confluence
finds me submerged (as an Arctic Monkey)
swimmingly enervated
via erotic laced sentiments
perhaps finds bravely daring soul madly
hollering, gesticulating floundering,
(in close proximity to Davey Jones's locker)
to avoid drowning at sea
perchance comprehending passionate influence.
Upon espying a signature poem of mine
forces one pre ponder ring lurking predilection
tib hush anonymous re:
dears (dares) adventuresome mettle
taking him/her to the brainy
(briny) deep brink
Icon fess
this (NON FAKE) pretense, why
aye metaphorically express
(via medium of ordinary Anglophile
alphabetic wanton soup,
or figurative egg drop bub
bling broth (el) doth brew)
pronouns Sibyl affectation
affliction sans plethora,
where each ladle full adrip with
richly flavor Verdana Font lee
and sincerely textured vocabulary.
Pluperfect mortals beings undoubtedly feel
(blindsided, how this hunger stricken author
suffers said sesquipedalian syndrome
particularly expectorating flashy
hoping tum bark on successful literary quest)
hyper aware aspiring paperback writers wannabe
might stoop to conquer, cheat, cadge
vis a vis plagiarize plethora
amidst storied plentiful English droppings.
Rather than succumb pretense feigning paucity
temptation to bask exultantly,
professed glorious unrequited love
announcing required sworn vow,
(el lye ding) avowed consonant covenant.
Form:
Philippines, my country of birth,
one of the countries in Southeast Asia.
It is an archipelago or group of islands,
with more than seven thousand islands.
Luzon, the largest island in the northern
part of the country, is where I was born
and where Manila, the capital is located.
Manila, the city known as Pearl of the Orient.
Magellan, the Portuguese explorer for Spain
claimed the archipelago in fifteen hundred
twenty one, named the islands Las Felipinas
or The Philippines, after King Phillip II of Spain.
Philippines was colonized more than three
hundred years, from fifteen hundred sixty five
until eighteen hundred ninety eight and ruled
under Mexico-based Viceroyalty of New Spain.
Manila was called Pearl of the Orient Seas
by the historian/Jesuit priest Juan Jose Delgado
in seventeen hundred fifty one for being a way
of sea transactions during Asian trade of goods.
However, in Jose Rizal’s poem “My Last Farewell,”
he wrote before his execution by the Spanish
government for rebellion through his writings,
he stated his country as Pearl of the Orient.
So, Philippines, the country and not Manila,
the city became known as Pearl of the Orient,
upon the discovery of his poem after his execution
in December thirty, eighteen hundred ninety six.
Philippines is known as Pearl of the Orient for
its strategic location in Asia, rich biodiversity or
different kinds of plants and animals, natural
resources and its natural beauty and splendor.
The Spanish Crown called it Pearl of the Orient
for the country was a precious source of spices,
other resources and trade of goods, even prior to
their colonization to acquire a share in spice trade.
Philippines’ natural gem is south sea pearls
and it is renowned for cultivating south sea pearls.
The famous pearl in the country, known as The Pearl
of Lao Tzu, was considered the largest known pearl.
The pearl weighed fourteen pounds, found by a
Filipino diver in nineteen thirty four and later, a giant
pearl, the Pearl of Puerto weighing seventy five pounds,
found by a fisherman, both discovered in Palawan Island.
No doubt why The Philippines is called Pearl of the Orient,
the two biggest pearls were found in Palawan, Philippines.
Isn’t that the most obvious, sensible reason? I wonder……
Well, what do you think?...... Just asking……
It was 64ºf and overcast this morning when Lisa and I started our 5-mile jog to the Harbor and back. We always start our semesters this way. We’re emotionally ready for fall weather and hopefully, a long and cruel winter.
Sunny, Lisa, Leong and I were starting the morning with breakfast together. We have summer catching up to do.
Of course, Sunny never does the expected. Over a bowl of heart-shaped Cheerios in the cafeteria, she announced that she’s “really going to try this year.”
“That's a choice,” Leong admitted dryly.
“You mean academically?” Lisa asked, for clarification purposes.
“Wait,” Leong updogged, “Did your parents ask for proof that you were here?”
Sunny rolled her eyes, she knew she’d get trolled with a newfangled declaration like that, but she meant it and she wasn’t tempted to elaborate.
“You’re a phoenix, rising from the ashes,” I said encouragingly.
“It’s a 4th in a lifetime opportunity,” Lisa noted.
Handling university academics is largely a structural task.
All it requires is artfully arranging information and slices of time.
“You’ve got this,” I affirmed.
“Let’s not get excited,” Sunny cautioned, “One reason I’m so hot is that I’m emotionally unavailable.”
“It’s your best quality.” Leong observed.
Tick tock, we’re all still unpacking but things are taking shape. Senior year starts in 3 days.
.
.
Songs for this:
Suddenly I See by KT Tunstall
Don't You Worry 'Bout A Thing by Stevie Wonder
Our cast:
Sunny, (roommate) 21, is from Nebraska, she’s a cowgirl (seriously, she has a quarter horse and barrel races it), she’s an outspoken fem-facing ladies-lady whose life is an endless parade of ‘sleepovers.’ Sunny knows all the best gossip and she’s somehow befriended all the professors.
Lisa, (roommate) 21, A Manhattanite and reluctant ‘glamor girl.’ My bff. A fellow (pre-med) molecular biophysics and biochemistry major.
Leong, (roommate) 21, is from Macau, China - the Las Vegas of Asia and a proud communist (don’t knock it til you’ve tried it). She and Sunny are ‘molecular, cellular, and developmental biology majors.’ I speak Cantonese - I lived in Shenzhen China (about 30 miles from Macau) - maybe that’s why she was originally paired with us?
Me, Your writer is just a simple country girl from Athens Georgia.
Everyday, I wake up wondering if the moon will shine or the stars will find a clear path to explore the other side of the universe. Every day, I wake up wondering if the sun will raise, and the moon will continue to walk by your side.
They sit up all night with an axe and a bible by their side and gun pointing to the east figuring out the next step to deceive the beast. A toxic feeling is going around and it makes me want to vomit on the ground.
Just as you think everything is going well, someone around the corner wants to drag you down in hell and suddenly the lights start growing dim and a strange energy surrounds the place. It built up an uncomfortable feeling in my chest and leaves me gasping for breath.
It circulates my entire body and it left me scrambling for an hour; if I had a better pair of shoe and enough money for the ride, I would walk out at this very moment without looking to the left or the right.
Every day I get up with a positive feelings, with new cells bursting in my anonymity and the forces of nature guiding me and the universe watching over me.
I am organized and ready to go but there is always something unpleasant to barge in the middle of the show, it is not a nice feelings it is painful and revealing and sometimes challenging .I have no control over what is happening around me some people are known for creating controversy and it leaves them hanging upside down in the pot.
See them sitting over there, fighting for that big dirty golden chair, the speechless ones, the quiet one, and big mouth one with voices thundering beneath the roof and big foot shaking the ground without a penny or a crown. You who are fighting for the chair will be left cold empty and bare, the sun will burn your behind and water will flood your cemetery until you do what is right.
It’s like you are waiting for that special song to sing but something
is always changing the rhythm and sometimes you don’t know whose song to sing, and the music keeps playing without a sound and it keeps dragging you towards the unknown.
I have had days like this when, I just feel like moving to another place to breath fresh air, to meet new people and write new music. Germany, France, Italy or Switzerland would be fun but I don’t know how to use a gun so I will stick to Asia because the journey is longer and it is safer.
Wake! and see the extent to which you’re still enslaved
enslaved by your own kind who hanker after conditioning platitudes
the clubby comfort of secretly oath-taking power cliques
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!
Remember! Remember Haidar Ali his son Tipu and Akbar
remember Sivaji and Chandra Bose and Kattapomman and Asoka
remember O! remember the one and only Mahatma
Wake India! O! Wake!
Wake! India! Wake! and see how your destitute generations are shunned aside
in infested villages sans drains sans potable water sans hope
see how they’re bound in mantric incantating castiron caste strictures
Wake! O! India! Wake!
No where else in the world are humans so in-humane-ly stratified
what proof have the Brahmins to issue forth from Brahma’s head
who proclaimed them the chosen elite on top of the Indian pile of castes
Wake! O! India! Wake!
Wake! and see how your northern brethren have cast off their spiritual shackles
even if they had abjured the path of the just to yoke their bodies
yet for each child a vaccine a soja-filled stomach to keep slavers away
Wake! O! India! Wake!
Wake! O! India! Wake before it’s too late!
for your own kind are about to enslave you once all over again
and the old master needs hardly despatch troops to proclaim his divine law
Wake! India! Wake!
Wake and watch how your elite ape and espouse the ways of the old master
how for an air-ticket a stipend per diem they would do you in without compunction
how for some lions memberships in select clubs they’d betray your own true kind
Wake! O! Asia! Wake!
Wake! O! Indonesia! Wake and see how the G.N.P. in Singapore
far outweighs that of the former papal Portugal now
how the four fiery Eastern Dragons no more parade in papier maché garb
Wake! Indonesia! Wake!
(Continued in Part One - 3)
Charles Bukowski Road Not Chosen
While reading Charles Bukowski poetry
On the metro ride home
Listening to Buddha bar music
On my oh too hip IPod
I begin to see myself as I was
Over 30 years ago when I was merely a bit player
A minor character in a Charles Bukowski poem
A wild young underemployed intellectual
Hanging out in dismal bars and dives all over Asia and California
Hanging with disreputable women and drunks and drinkers
And characters out of his kinds of haunts
A mad poet bard of the underground
A drunken poet in a drunken bum show
That nightly played in his head
Then one day I met the women of my dreams
And went down a different path
A long slow path to respectability
And now 30 years later
I am no longer a wild man
I am still a poet at heart
But I am now also a bureaucrat
In a button down suite
Doing the people's business
Working for the Government
I've become the Man
Sometimes I wonder
Would I have been better off
Going down that another path
Would I have ended up
Somewhere else
Doing something else
Would I have been as happy
Would I have been as successful?
There is no answer that satisfies
The longing in my heart
For that wild thing
That still lurks beneath
It's civilized cover
And I know that I am still
A mad poet at heart
Railing against the injustice of the world
As I work day by day in the belly of the great beast of State
I recall the ancient Chinese saying,
"Confucian during the day while Taoist rebel at night"
Playing out in my head and nightly dreams
In the true American Upper class patrician tradition
I close the book and look out the window
Get off the train, and walk slowly home
And realize I had no choice
But to take the path that I’ve trodden on
And so I put aside my misgivings
And say goodbye to my "Bukowskian"desires
For another night of domestic contentment
Was it worth it all to take the conventional path
And not take the bohemian road to hell and back
I look at my wife and realize
I had no choice, had no choice
But to follow her to the ends of the earth
And beyond by her side as we walked our path
Of shared destiny
Goodbye Charles Bukowski wherever you are
May I meet you in a bar in the next life
And figure out where we should have gone
Until then the drinks are on me.
Make haste to befriend the toro meanly reared away from spectator prying eyes
by dread alone the bull is nurtured and prodded to terrify
and when at last the ranchero’s silhouette appears in the arena it charges
Wake! India! Wake!
There are no greater mysteries than those your scientists can unravel
the only mysteries that persist are those drummed by priests into your brains
even a helpless Stephen Hawking can pierce the Aryan mystery by silent reflection
Wake! India! Wake!
Let those who seek power in the polls seek it for their own sakes
sooner or later sooner than later they too will pass away
their power gnawing at their bones will feed the etherising flames of their pyres
Wake! India! Wake!
Let those who seek to challenge their power challenge it for their own sakes
they too will rot in the chains they have willingly chained themselves in
for they too seek power for the sake of power and for theirs and their own comfort
Wake! India! Wake!
And let them all pass over you you who have borne in quiet pain
mauling under the pretext of mournful migrations and the Mughal might
Mohenjodaro and Harrappa notwithstanding Vijayanagar and Kaveripumpattinam
Wake! India! Wake!
Do not for a moment think your sons have deserted you
nor your daughters gone to spawn with other spouses under other suns
your needs are their needs your tears their blood coursing in their veins
Wake! India! Wake!
If you had woken up earlier to tend to your shores to tend to the marauders at the border
letting only the lone Kshatriya exert his martial art abused by fine courtly comfort
you would not now wonder how a Rajput court at Mewar drove Akbar to such lengths
Wake! India! Wake!
(Continued in Part One - 10)
You have been walking on that ground since you were a child and you still have not examined the broken lines, you have been playing on that field since you start crawling on your knees and still you have not figured out how to mix lemon with honey.
You have been playing on the middle ground since you were three and you should know the turns like ABC. If I bend my back and cross my knees you will receive a letter from me; some mountains are hard to climb but strategy will save you just in time.
I lit a candle and wander around in the dark searching for that spot where I will meet with the lark, it is that little section around the bend where the crucifix meet with the troublesome heavens, and the clouds keeps turning about and the elements in the sky start to run and shout.
The universe with its ultimate proportion finds the exotic rhythm and starts sing, and I stretched my ears beyond the plane to block out the terrible shame and align myself with the ground for that is where the mystery is found.
The stars and the planets are sealed up with the Gods and the Indus Valley lay bear waiting for something dynamic to share; the Bronze Age of civilization is welled up in the northwestern regions of Southern Asia, cruising from corner to corner and from three thousand three hundred BCE to thirteen hundred BCE, they have been baking a giant cake for you and me,.
The ancient Egyptian and Mesopotamia family have been searching diligently for me they are one of three early civilizations of the Near East and South Asia and they have built an empire out of the diamond and gold and place it in the center of my soul.
The ancestors have paid the sacrifice a million times and when the time is right you will break through the gate and collect the golden plate.
The center ground keeps moving around and the birds keep flying from town to town, the side bars are easy to slide and a miracle is waiting by your side, study the field once more before you walks through the miracle door.It was built specially for you, just to make your dream come through.
When you are in the middle, they attack you from both sides so girt your waist with extra pride and extend your right and left elbow on both sides to scrape up all the prize. The middle ground is hard to find; the middle ground is where destiny abideS.
In an Asia city, a new and infamous name began.
“They were called Christians first at Antioch”.*
This species was built upon relationship with its maker; and not disconnection from him.
She fulfilled and bridged the past with the present and all eternity.
Same creator, same designer, and same planer of all species.
For six days He created everything that was made; and then He rested.
Later, there was a world wide deluge; and things were altered; most destroyed.
Generations would transpire before God created a totally new breed of creatures*.
This new species called Christian, was not made from nothing. But being made a new type of human, she would become the new model for all. What a remarkable and revolutionary concept! How different from every human before!!
This species is essentially about loving, not 50/50, but 100% unconditionally.
She’s about giving and not taking; about giving out of love; and not for personal gain.
She finds life through death; she has no room for hate.
No, this new species cannot procreate; but there’s reproduction by proclamation.
She propagates loving God with all the heart; and loving the neighbor as one’s self.
Yes, she’s a new kind of species!
03312016 Acts, Cor. 5:17 (PS Contest,
A New Species, by Anthony Slausen)