Long Asian Poems
Long Asian Poems. Below are the most popular long Asian by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Asian poems by poem length and keyword.
We must never forget that
we're human beings, above all.
We're God's children, all equal in his eyes.
We need to treat each other
with the utmost respect and dignity.
We need to learn how to peacefully co-exist.
Notwithstanding our deity of worship -
Whether you call God just that, God,
or Allah, or El-Shaddai, or Bhagwan.
Notwithstanding the language
we speak, or the accent
of our speech, domestic or foreign.
Notwithstanding our politics -
Democrat, Republican, or Independent,
or even party-free.
Notwithstanding our race -
White, Black, Hispanic, Asian; whether you
check "Other" on application forms.
Notwithstanding our religion -
Catholicism, Judaism, Hinduism, Mormonism,
Buddhism, Islam, and so on.
Notwithstanding our culture,
belief system, financial status, sexual orientation,
or how we dress. Whether we're believer or atheist.
Notwithstanding the side
of the railroad track we hail from...
We must never forget that
we're human beings, above all.
We're God's children, all equal in his eyes
We need to treat each other
with the utmost respect and dignity.
We need to learn how to peacefully co-exist.
In the final analysis, we are all equal!
Opinion Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kai Michael Neumann
Date Written: 06/23/2020
Sweet, little blond thing,
just off the plain from Kentucky,
she’s a solid seven, no higher,
painful to listen to her
reciting lines out loud.
Wants to be an actress,
fresh-faced and eighteen,
just have to dangle bait,
a few bit parts on a sit-com,
walks into the trap, doesn’t resist
just takes of her top…
Thirty-something Asian actress,
has played the ‘best friend’
several times, wants a
leading part. She’s afraid
her career has stalled,
doesn’t know what to do next.
Her agent tells me he
told her to be ‘nice’ to
the producers, and they’ll
be nice back. Looks ashamed
as she unbuttons her jeans…
I love that look…Such easy prey…
Forty-four-year-old pin-up blond,
has graced men’s magazines
and summer blockbusters.
Lines form around her eyes,
the roles stop coming
but she has a mansion,
and an ex-husband on alimony,
needs to work.
“Let’s get this over with,”
she says, walking right
into my sights…
You asked about hunting…
Wait, you men those people
who go out and shoot deer?
Bunch of monsters, vicious
backwoods hicks. Thankfully
we have evolved past that…
Setting my base in a Smurf-blue house, I hide,
Weaving a web of nerves on every side.
Next door, the groans of neighbors shake the floor,
My web's vibration drives away my prey once more.
My own dawn groans rise up into the air,
I am not alone; someone steals my fare.
"Floor-to-Floor Noise"
Upstairs, a washing machine spins late at night,
A slamming door greets the morning light.
Asians need no alarm clocks to wake,
Every sound breaks the peace we try to take.
I long to drive out and escape the street,
Yet trapped again, where parking cars compete.
I make a call,
No one answers at all.
For Asians, a holy life belongs alone
To those who dwell in luxury's high-rise zone.
Because a lush forest garden waits for them to steer,
With open roads and skies so crystal clear.
Living in this Smurf-house lane, confined,
A tiny car blocks the path ahead, unkind.
No one answers my desperate plea,
Panic sets in, anxiety running free.
I am running late.
My boss's warning strikes with iron weight:
"One more delay, and you seal your fate!"
In Asian neighborhoods, a parking feud can bloom,
A fleeting second of sudden death and doom.
While the rich in luxury apartments are so slow and grand,
Where sweet floral fragrances drift across the land.
"The poor must tread upon the blades of grass beneath their feet,
While the wealthy hear the grass sing songs of joy, complete."
The (former) Double Life Of Matthew Scott Harris
Dove finch he following iniquitous
licentious, lecherous longing
extinguished quite
some years ago,
when eldest daughter
stopped being polite
actually she ceased - might
tee angry talking heads
to this papa for months, whose
only asks prays foe praise,
and who doth newt
wish to ignite
animosity from any beloved fan,
whose critical judgement
toward my errant friskiness,
aye snuffed out light
and accepts dues
against prickly don'ts,
and opted to risk broad
casting general height
full actions, which attestation
spiritedly burst asunder
blitzing Lenovo external
screen within minutes bite
mutt hung lest
censorious replies pillory
this sensitive chap
I merely uncorked
irrepressible facet
(asian iron maiden
strangle choke hold)
forced these words
to help give hollow explain
nations of this nada
so shiny white knight
philanderer (juiced now cum
ming clean) by night just
an oon din
aery in Das scribe
bubble during -
the day until...zee...
wife found me absent - yee
(ping, and sowing, thee
rather desiccated oats)
celibacy playing tree
men dose impetus tryst,
viz midlife crisis spree
from sleeping quarters re:
at 724 West Rail
road Avenue, pre
planned within
the basement nee
tricked out as cellar quasi
pent house suite for me
comfortable sleep
ping accommodations,
pleasing this wander
lusting NON GMO lee
burr teen, sans mat,
(and also Scottish Matt)
tress atop boxspring key
ping stockpiles of prurient frilly
laced female lingerie, je
nais se quois, no matter
escapade usual lee
took place in pitch black dark
accouterments singularly, solely,
and strictly necessitated,
arousing, coaxing, and
exciting libido asper
one barenaked lady for
yours truly, whereat
aye do blatantly
confess flute'n glute'n guilt free
to concocting, hat
ching, and orchestrating
profligate secrete
rendezvous aspirations
toward sordid man of la
cherry munch ching Lothario
(a combination Casanova,
Don Juan) wannabe.
If I were heavy into all sports and loved racing fast cars; if I were shorter, taller, fatter, thinner, quieter, louder; if I were an atheist, theist, gnostic, or agnostic; wouid you still love me?
If I were American, Asian, African, European, or other; democratic, republican, or non-political; if my hair was black, blond, brown, or red; would you still love me?
If I had no arms, one eye, or one leg; could not walk, talk, dance, or sing; homeless, carless, or jobless; would you still love me?
If I were born handicapped; dirt poor like my parents; my IQ were above or below 100; would you still love me?
12032018PoSoupContest, Would You Still Love Me?, Edward Ibeh
Forget International law we’re going to war
Bloodlet betrayal Israel settles an old score
Rational regret nope they’ve done it before
Democracy trumps theocracy don't be a bore
Ideology analogy rampant hypocrisy the core
Encore beast feasts on Middle East once more
Yanks a bellicose hero no gung ho Emperor Nero
Iran has how many nuke warheads ..yep ZERO
Know North Korea has at least sixty..so hey ho
Tehran has subverted & really perverted the Quran
Mistook a book which dearly above all is about love
Protests hushed and clearly crushed by an iron glove
Vulture that killed Persian culture and became Iran
Recurring theme yes yet another despicable regime
We get the gist of the tryst to enlist be a misogynist
Twist with that insatiable hunger to be a warmonger
Confessed annihilation dressed up as emancipation
Just like the Vietnamese wheeze an illegal invasion
Afghanistan and Pakistan but not always only Asian
Hark back to Iraq those weapons of mass destruction
Iran made up glory story crass Bush & Blair production
No compunction Trump’s voter slump needs a ruction
Shouting we did collar Khamenei the deadly scholar
Flouting drastic snide bully tactic plied again with pride
No better than Hezbollah raving craving every oil dollar
We holler you’re killing women & kids like the Ayatollah
Displaced races & harrowed faces can’t choose a side
Bow & kowtow right now or you’ve got nowhere to hide
Nethanyahu retinue continue with the US by their side
Permitted even after in Gaza they committed genocide
The West rules poor people just tools schools of mules
We’re not fools we know who drools over fossil fuels
But if there is a sliver of silver lining shining in the sky
Defining demise of the ersatz ex pat twa*s tax free lie
Goodbye to the whining rash brash flash hellhole Dubai!
A nd so began the Great Repair as the Corners came together there, Four a meeting of Winds,
N ine to find is the task at hand. Owl flew to be as One with Great Mind over land to find
R hyme for the mend.ing ...
N ature called for a Song and the Great Sea is list.ing.
A re we listen.ing? Dragon waits in the Open slowly showing guiding knowing....
U p on high beyond the Great Sky a map was drawn and remains glowing. A beacon of
K nowledge for our well Be.ing.
P eAce is on and it beams a bright light. Pulsing it is in past Future sight...
AND so join flocks in the air, Great Sea moves and Rocks are aware. Nature to
C orrect an error of o.mission returning soon is due the Wishing.Time.
A nd so it was written in the sounds of the Great Clock.
B e. PeAce see a message of the Rocks.
Guanyin (Chinese: ??; pinyin: guan yin; Wade-Giles: kuan-yin) is the bodhisattva
associated with compassion as venerated by East Asian Buddhists, usually as a female. The
name Guanyin is short for Guanshi'yin (???, pinyin: guanshì yin, Wade-Giles: kuan-shih
yin) which means "Observing the Sounds (or Cries) of the World".Wiki
In Vietnamese, the name is Quán Âm or Quán Th? Âm.
Form:
Spring the magical season of natural splendour,
It's glory brightens and blooms every life,
Birds chirp in meadows and call for their mates;
The tap-tap of the woodpeckers,
And their courtship dances,
Welcome the mating season in cheer.
The bold Ashy prinia with perky tail
Found in thickets, the jungle mynahs
Seen in noisy groups at sunset,
The spotted owlet with a hooting sound,
Seen in banyan and peepal trees,
Are sights of delight after a dreary winter.
The white-browed wagtail,
Scurrying in open spaces wagging its tail,
The pond heron with its yellow eyes,
And the Asian koel singing kik kik,
His mate too joining, singing kuoo kuoo,
Create a symphony of magical melody.
Date: 02/26/2021
Submitted for: Spring Birds Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
You need a smart phone to get your number.
Take a picture of the square with the code,
answer the text message, “yes I am here”.
My number D106, better take a seat.
The interracial gay couple next to me, are awfully
grabby for 8:45 am, just mind your own business.
But, why doesn’t the white guy have any shoes on,
and why just socks, that when purchased were probably white.
Now serving D100
The rather large lady to my left requires two seats.
Whats the deal with women and tights and what’s is
the largest size available, in purple?
Her perfume choice, ode to yesterday’s cigarettes.
Now serving D101
Mr, I work for the highway department, walks buy and takes a seat.
Neon yellow shirt and jeans say, we were washed four or
five days ago and worn everyday since.
Presumably his wife, who doesn’t do laundry often, sits beside him.
Now serving D102
Two Asian men enter followed by a teenager, maybe a son.
He reads the billboard and explains the process.
Both men remove their phones and follow his instructions.
Three seat together is going to be hard to find.
Now serving D103
Across the way, a family of four, teenage daughter wearing pjs.
A Halloween motif with Michael Myer’s masked face.
Since it’s only mid September, aren’t we rushing the season a bit?
Then again, given the black lipstick and nail polish, maybe not.
Now seeing D104
Now, the shoeless gay guy gets up and jumps at the ceiling.
He’s trying to remove the cobweb hanging in front of the monitor.
Nice try, but at maybe 5’5”, LeBron James he is not.
His partner urges him to return to his seat.
Now serving D105
You know they sent you a notice: Renew by mail.
It even allowed you to do it on line, save a stamp.
But no, the picture was out of date, nearly eight years ago.
So here your sarcastic ass sits.
Now serving D106 “Thank the Lord!”
She’s behind the glass, the remnants of Covid.
Her lips are moving, but no sound is coming through.
I point to my ears and shrug. She increases her volume.
Yes, wish to renew my drivers license.
Sign the application where highlighted and $24.
Wow, 4 bucks cheaper in person, what a deal.
Picture taken, temporary printed, permanent in 30 days.
Outside finally and look down, what a horrible picture.
This revolutionary fella followed by
Adams family patriarch,giving rise
twin heir (plain lee gifted "Renaissance
Man") Jeff force'n without hemming
and hawing, subsequently conceding
nexus (nor horse drawn Lexus) of Colonial
power to Madison, thence Monroe
buttoned up as suitable candidate after
which younger Adams elected.
Thirty four followed Jackson's club
trumpeting (some Obama nib bully)
bushwhacking their way predicated
on faulty Algorithm, charming
charismatically with hint of Clint
like glint in eyes, blinding populace,
sans ray gun (Reagan), Car Tour ring
with peanut gallery in tow, affording
(unpopularly pardoning unfashionably),
a Jerry rigged nixed son, followed
by John's son tainted by stain of Vietnam,
but with said Southeast Asian debacle,
one ken heady (sporting thick styled hair)
inherited an internecine conflict, essentially
precipitated, when Eisenhower hardened
political stance against any allies of the
Soviet Union, (sans The Viet Cong), and
pledged his firm support to Diem
and South Vietnam.
Now with preceding administration, one
harried true man unleashed advent of atomic
spectra upon Hiroshima, and Nagasaki, this
purported preemptive measure scary ruse
felt to thwart exaggerated Japanese government
threat (military intelligence) scheming to
wreak untold havoc upon American troops
within the Pacific theater of World War II.
The former horrific decision controversial,
then and to this day Hoover expert historian,
diverge, asper corroborating the necessity
to usher in the Cold War, yet majority foreign
policy wonks might grudgingly attest that
said thirty first commander in chief did maintain
a Cool Edge throughout onset when doomsday
clock began countdown to Armageddon,
an unimaginably blaring, deafening, earsplitting...
cacophony distant rumbles heard, nonetheless,
no Hard dinning ghoulish nightmare (potentially
obliterating all life on planet Earth) haunted
Wilson, nor Taft, only gunboat diplomacy
mere child's play exhorted, less catastrophic
comparison, when Teddy Roosevelt wielded
"big stick schtick" namesake corollary to the
Monroe Doctrine in 1904...ad nauseum.