Long Bemoan Poems
Long Bemoan Poems. Below are the most popular long Bemoan by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bemoan poems by poem length and keyword.
We all knew Jack or someone like him,
But we thought time had passed by him,
We even sang the odd hymn,
To mark the passing on of him.
But alas he has returned to carry on where he left off
Knowing every job the ins and outs of.
That others could not finish off,
Despite many views to the contrary of,
By those cleaning up after he had moved off,
To tell others what he never knew the half of.
I came across him the other day,
And he still had the same old things to say,
About how others did not know how to work with clay,
Or who should have right of way,
And that he was able to bring what was needed into play,
Faster than I could say,
I'm finished for the day.
Now he has a family of his own,
For us to bemoan.
My heart shrivels dry, blackened rose in bitter anguish, ...
Do you feel my pain?
Why must the flame of day dwindle dim?
O' fortune, like the moon, changeable, waxing and waning
Oppressing me, first with power's soothing stroke
To take it all away!
Poverty of my spirit lies in love's immortal wake
Why fate of fortune, cruel regard, forsaken me?
Vain, and shadowed, I waver between the balance
Such agony is mine!
Day and night, everything defies me?
Great is my grief!
One cure, escape me from the throes of my misery !!
I beg, the Gods... hear my wail, hear my plea
Would fate be cured by kiss, one look, one sign, devotion? !
This wretchedness is black, I taste bitter ash!
Keep dark night hidden in the depth of your heart, o' moon !!
I am like a leaf, played with by the wind
I am like a light hovering bird, chains cannot bind me !!
Salvation comes with desire, one touch
Do not turn the eyes away...!
I cannot be shamed!
Torment me not, o' heartless moon!!
Wheel of fortune spins my heart...I beg to win love's prize !!
Without it, I will bemoan the wounds of fortune with weeping eyes
.... and I am cursed as I fall from the peak of glory....
into the depths of the valley of despair !!
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protogothic entry: for Amy's Contest:
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Inspired by the classical music, "Carmina Burana"
A cantata, written between l935-36 by German composer Carl Orff.
This passionate work was based on ancient poems hand-scribed in Latin...these parchment
manuscripts discovered in a Bavarian monastery in l803. They were believed to have been
written by students of the clergy (monks) sometime during the 11-13th century.
This familiar music has been used in numerous film scores..quite dramatic and powerful
I have no words to use that can define,
this task so tough to find my lover's name.
In hope, I wait for my soul to refine,
before my heart becomes old with this game.
This language they call love has no restraint,
yet, still I search for tongue which echoes mine.
Perhaps there is no one who can acquaint,
and yet, I yearn that love becomes my shrine.
Upon this path, one can feel all alone,
when walking with no one to hold your hand.
Enraged with fate one may start to bemoan,
despite all your attempts, unloved you stand.
True love, like leaves in Spring, transcend in life;
be patient heart, for growth is always rife.
Silent One
Written 28 May 2016
Into the air I used to lift,
and with the clouds or stars I’d drift. . .
another place, another day.
My flying dreams have flown away.
No longer do I sail to sky
at night when in my bed I lie.
My feet, once wings, have turned to clay
and dreams of flying flown away.
Now sweet night visions in my head
grow fewer. More I dream instead
I’m lost or late. To my dismay,
the flying dreams have flown away.
Oh, where has gone nocturnal bliss,
and how have plans gone so amiss
that now I find my world turned gray
and dreams of flying flown away?
I long to run, leave ground and then
glide up. . . Why can’t I soar again?
I’m tied to earth and brought to bay
now flying dreams have flown away.
And fleeting time has also flown,
so now I only can bemoan
a fantasy I can’t replay
in dreams of flying. . . flown away.
The Beloved City
by Munir Momin
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Don’t bemoan the silence
because you’re still a newbie here:
your bright colors remain foreign to the surrounding trees.
No one will converse with you, yet.
But once the city’s poison
seeps into your veins, then mingles with your blood,
relationships will blossom;
only then will the city converse with you.
***
Day by day,
Time slips through my fingers
like elusive millet grains.
But were you a bird,
you'd be my most welcome guest!
—Munir Momin, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Only for an evening
let my heart
soar momentarily
with the starlings of silence
fleeing the seasons and the solitudes of your eyes.
—Munir Momin, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
They sail ahead at the same speed
yet the moon reaches the beach
long before the boats.
—Munir Momin, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
***
Night and Day
by Munir Momin
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Night after night
the world screams
invective against
my solitude,
then sneaks out
the cracked backdoor window
but doesn’t make it far
beyond the city’s confines;
then in the morning,
acting as if nothing untoward happened,
it greets me,
having forgotten all about its rants
and my loneliness,
then accompanies me
like a friend
through the front door.
Another week of horror…
of terror…
of uncertainty
and again we meet in a park at night to bemoan a tragedy.
People came together…looking for encouragement and relief.
People of different faiths,
different backgrounds
and beliefs.
As different people prayed to their God…
among the crowd there was no dissension
everybody listened…
and accepted…
everybody paid attention.
For no matter what faith was present…
no matter what God they may have named…
or if they didn’t believe in God at all…
their message was the same.
In the end everybody lit a candle…
and held it in the air
proving love is universal…
proving love is to be shared.
and then we all departed
taking different paths into the night
our darkness beginning to be driven out
by a little spot of light.
The sails are raised upon the ship "Unknown,"
to travel slowly on life's seven seas.
I look upon such things as I am shown,
in hopes to solve life's little mysteries.
I now am sailing with a gentle breeze-
to learn of what I can until I'm grown;
so I can handle life with greater ease.
The sails are raised upon the ship Unknown."
There's waves I find in life that have been blown,
upon my ship by other ones decrees.
My skills at sailing these rough waves have grown-
to travel slowly on life's seven seas.
The shores I look upon are laced with trees,
their colors looking like they have been sewn
by angels with embroidery degrees.
I look upon such things that I am shown.
The work I do sometimes I will bemoan,
but with it I have gained such victories!
I seek a light that never has been shown,
in hopes to solve life's little mysteries.
Sometimes these oceans seem like they will freeze,
still other nights it seems I sail alone.
It's then I get down on my hands and knees,
To pray to God because He's on the throne.
The sails are raised.
Not all poets are kindred souls
That theory is full of holes
For a few, poetry extols
Different goals Different goals
Words guided by what's in our hearts
Wanderlusts or humorous thoughts
I value artful counterparts
I don't hurl darts I don't hurl darts
Don't point fingers of shame at me
I treat no one with treachery
and I don't act like a queen bee
Hypocrisy Hypocrisy
Don't harm poets with pen or knife
If you're unhappy with your life
Why are you filled with angst and strife
Like Barney Fife Like Barney Fife
Sadness is a depressing trait
A mood that might simply abate
If you stop whining... mitigate
No need for hate No need for hate
I'm not part of a gang or pack
My friends and I do not attack
We have not stabbed you in the back
Disgruntled flack Disgruntled flack
Take screenshots like a bombardier
We've no need to tremble in fear
You've no reason to shed a tear
Now is that clear? Now is that clear?
With poisoned seeds of malice sown
Repeated complaints you bemoan
A cawing crow you now are known
Contentious prone Contentious prone
Broken fences will never mend
With a mindset that will not bend
Into those depths I'll not descend
I will transcend I will transcend
I'll write no more and waste my time
On one who thinks her views sublime
I will choose a healthier clime
To write in rhyme To write in rhyme
Duty
People talk of Purpose, as if there’s always choice
I am somewhat different, perhaps a solitary voice
The Modern World commands the self, where each is to their own
But I was taught to share my spoil, no circumstance bemoan
So toil I do relentlessly, and selflessly I prosper
I sacrifice ambition that the Ego seeks to foster
For I've become the Carer, not child nor husband now
The one who keeps the wheels greased, the broke down cars I tow
I work until my brain and bones, cannot sustain the pressure
I gasp when I get time to spare, a guilty token gesture
For I am here not for myself, nor for the higher calling
My steadfastness I here confess is try to stop Them falling
But if you ask why do it then, why subjugate your freedom?
I open wide my mouth to speak, but find no words of wisdom
It's who I am, it's what I feel, so simple in it's beauty
I live and breathe and do bequeath my sanctum for my duty
We have four grandchildren in our life and we love they came our way.
We remember when each was born…as if it was yesterday.
When they were merely babies we held them in our arms
and through the years we’ve been enchanted and captivated by their charms.
It’s fun to look back wistfully to a time when they were smaller
because over the years…we’re not sure when…they’ve all grown so much taller!
We use to kid with them when they were younger…oh how the kids would fuss
When we’d put our hands on their heads and say…
“You’ll never be taller than us!”
Well…the first grandchild grew taller than Nana years ago,
followed by the second
then the third…
and Nana smiled as each one overtook her…without saying a word.
But the other day, reminding us how time often passes in a blur,
Nana noticed our youngest granddaughter is now looking down on her.
Nana, who once carried all our grandchildren easily across the floor
in the blink of an eye, or so it seems, is shorter than all four.
(I probably would be more sympathetic to Nana…to this growing reality
If I didn’t realize that all too soon…they’ll also be taller than me!)
Of course we know that’s the way it goes…the way the years are supposed to pass
still in our wildest dreams we never expected…the years would pass so fast….
But as I see Nana and our grandchildren now standing side by side
I have to smile when I think how much we’ve enjoyed the ride….
So the fact they are taller than Nana…
is not something we bemoan
because we have enjoyed every minute
of every hour
of every inch
that they have grown….