Long Blood brother Poems
Long Blood brother Poems. Below are the most popular long Blood brother by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blood brother poems by poem length and keyword.
IN THE NAME OF ETERNAL LOVE
Since you have left, my one and only,
the sun became perfectly cold.
Its golden heart,
completely forgotten, lies in the golden cradle:
Oh, Lord, the sun is so cold,
it wrapped itself around my heart,
like a vampire's golden claw.
Its cold fingers of gold
are ripping off parts of my heart
and throwing its bloody food at death's feet.
I am looking for the shadow to save me,
the same shadow
in which you used to read my poems,
whose verses were so touching and yearning,
so perfectly life-like and human
when your soft voice sent them on their way to people's hearts.
If I knew that I'd touch the sky with my verses
and revive you
to warm my cold heart,
and the entire cold world around me,
I would agree at once to brand my verses with my own blood.
But the sun is still so cold
and shining like gold:
cold and deadly blinding;
They say that the night,
the dark night,
is the right place for dying,
but you know, my one and only,
that this is not true,
because you left me when the sun shone at its brightest,
and when the golden stream murmured across the white heavenly fields
gilding our verses.
Oh, Lord, death in a golden dress must be so noble,
when it takes the soul to meet the angels.
You know, my one and only,
that our verses
that joined us with an unbreakable brace of love and immortal memories,
these dear and painfully lively verses are my only link to you now.
While solitude whips me, I voice myself in our verses
into the sky,
to approach you
so closely as to hear your voice
when you read our verses to angels.
While the present haunts me to the past,
I am chasing my spirit towards the golden cradle
to become a blood brother to the newborn verse,
because my end is near;
They say that the night,
the dark night,
is the right place for dying,
but my place is on the golden hearse,
right next to the golden cradle,
right next to the newborn verse,
when the sun is at its warmest and brightest,
when the sun's golden hearts is lively ticking in fiery breasts –
so that death may await me in the golden cradle,
like you, my one and only,
so that we may sow our verses
along white heavenly fields:
because it cannot be any other way,
it should not be any other way
in the name of eternal love.
©Walter William Safar
Great are his exploits
honour and rank
he's celebrated
he's immortalized
He's fondly recalled
Back to memory
The great legends of Old..
Great Chief Waiyaki wa Hinga..
Aged nine he killed a lion
with his bare hands...
When the imperialist came.. Waiyaki..
Raised a huge Army armed with bows and arrows
Testing the might of the staff which spat fire
Fore told by the great seer Mugo Wa Kibiru..
..see people dressed like butterflies
they come from the sea of the hawk
and move on an iron caterpillar to the
lake of the eagle.. they carry a walking staff
which spits fire killing instantly... your weapons
will be useless when faced with this magical staff..
The great seer advised the people to learn
The pale skinned colonizers magic..
At right time armed with the right knowledge
The land of the slopes of Kerenyaga..
Will be liberated by its sons
The mountain of splendor and mysteries
Where people since ages ago have offered prayers
To the Supreme Deity Ngai Murungu..
Who is all loving and of good virtual
The supreme deity's Prophet Mugo wa Kibiru...
Is office of the chief seer..
Water Tabernacle the resting place of - Managi
The greatest Holy relic and the Box that is the relic
I recap they say Great Chief Waiyaki
Was betrayed by the pale colored..
foe he had called blood brother..
Angry Waiyaki took out his favorite club..
Mathiokore.. it was nicknamed..
Within minutes brains of the Great captain
were scattered on our rich soils
The invaders captured Waiyaki..
Our great Chief and opened his skull
Waiyaki died not.. they buried him alive
Head facing downwards.. Great Chief..
You should have heeded the Great seers
prophecy..
...don't allow the butterflies to enter your homesteads...
Buried alive..
Immortal Warrior king fate
The annual pilgrimage around
Kereenyaga - the abode of Ngai
Goes on each year.. pilgrims
Make seven stops as they
Circumbulate the Holy Mountain..
Of stories and more stories from the land
Where gods.. immortals.. and mortals
Rub shoulders looking each other..
Eye to eye... tales of KENYA
code 254
LEWIS NYAGA
I was born at the tail end of the Goldhawk Road
Which runs through Shepherds Bush
Like an artery,
And in the mid 1960s,
Served as one of the great centres
Of the London Mod movement,
But I was raised in relative gentility
In a ward of nearby South Acton
Whose vast council estate
Is surely the most formidable
Of the whole of West London.
Although my little suburb
Has since become
One of its most exclusive neighbourhoods.
My first school was a kind of nursery
Held locally on a daily basis
At the private residence
Of one Miss Henrietta Pearson,
And then aged 4 years old,
I joined the exclusive
Lycee Francais du Kensington du Sud,
Where I was soon to become bilingual
And almost every race and nationality
Under the sun was to be found
At the Lycee in those days...
And among those who went on to be good pals mine
Were kids of English, French, Jewish, American,
Yugoslavian and Middle Eastern origin.
While my first closest pals were Esther,
The vivacious daughter
Of a Norwegian character actor
And a beautiful Israeli dancer,
And Craig, an English kid like myself,
With whom I remain in contact to this day.
For a time, we formed an unlikely trio:
"Hi kiddy," was Esther's sacred greeting
To her blood brother, who'd respond in kind.
But at some stage, I became a problem child,
A disruptive influence in the class,
And a trouble maker in the streets,
An eccentric loon full of madcap fun
And half-deranged imaginativeness.
("Born on the Goldhawk Road" is a versified version of one much reproduced in various forms throughout my writings, although it bears little resemblance to its original, which first glimpsed the light of day in around 2002. It's undergone much modification since then, including the alteration of all names of people and places for the solemn purpose of privacy.)
OUR LIBRARIAN
I once remember the
Librarian in my college
Meticulous ,and savvy
His love for knowledge
Knows no bound.
I once remember the
Librarian in my University
A man with a large heart for others
His glasses perking on his nose
His Professorial “penkelemesi” like
Grey hair connotes love for research.
But
I cannot but ask which librarian is this?
I cannot but query the insidious sudden
Love of this Huckster for knowledge
I cannot but be surprised at his hubbub
Declaration for his Library launch.
Oh ye people of our land!
Lets all give ovation du applaud to
Our land’s new Librarian.
The very one who rakes in seven
Of a billion cowries in a hurry
In the all looters Library launch.
The very one whose hatred for education
Towers so high and hit all towers of ivory.
The very atrocious leader of the ruling bandit
Whose avidity for money stares us in the face.
The very leading African Chimera whose
Chicanery we cannot measure
Has now suddenly fall in love with knowledge.
The very blood brother of “Haruna”on our campus
Who votes irritating meager resources for education
He is now our own celebrated Librarian.
The very illiterate Mechanic whose
Baleful gaze alone destroys our land’s Library
He is now our dreadful Librarian.
Sorry ,we know our Librarians
Our Libraries , we are acquainted with
Our Libraries are of obsolete materials
Ours is of more archaic facilities
With books and non books available
Two moons ago still branded new editions
This is our own Libraries.
Let the new Librarian disburse the seven
Of a billion cowries to our Libraries
Let him pump cowries into our education
Let their be more modern Libraries in our land
For is it of a nation that values knowledge
That gets the best of knowledge today and morrow .
Alayande Stephen .T
16th April, 2006
05.25pm
For Mr President 's special Library launch.
Out of every shadow they creep and crawl,
twisted faces of pain, more evil grins with the night time fall.
The shadows swallow themselves in deeper pits of black,
kind, considerate? These are just the begining of the things they lack.
Children once, beloved by none. Tormenting each other just for fun.
Light hurts, so they stay out of the sun. But even in a sliver of shade there could be a ton.
Fighting, ripping and gnashing at one another,
hating, even though they should be considered blood brother.
A door creaks open, they fall silent and so does the air,
Stillness creeps in heavy like a cool blanket of shivering fear.
She is happy, her long blonde hair flowing out behind her,
"Don't worry Mom! Nothing will happen!" she yelled behind her once more.
Wrapping her scarf around her neck like a noose, it was a little too loose.
She skip-walked, humming a little tune to her childhood,
trying to remember it the best she could.
Whispers in the alley. The drunkard passed out and coming down off crack.
The whispers talk of murder, fowl play they say. Stumbling upward off his back.
Black broken boots belong to a broken owner, doing a stagard walk down the alley.
/Flip Flop\ Goes the clip clops as they meet the side walk.
Up the ally the voices still in the back of the man's head with the murder talk.
/Bump\ Drunkard and Girl face to face. Her heart pumping hard it just started to race.
Out of his pocket flys a hand. She flitches. No Hit. As her mind catches pace.
"Spare some shchange?" asks the man looking like he is covered in mange.
(bet you all thought this was going to end a little different, huh?)
I Hear Drum-Beats Across The Land… Can You Hear It?
All Our Homes Are Handed Down by The Highest Spirit
Long-Ago, The Native Peoples of The Land
Knew… The Earth and Us – Go Hand in Hand
I Hear Hoof-Beats Across The Land… Can You Hear It?
Its Not The Buffalo or Antelope – Who Grew To Fear It
Its Battles of Braves and Soldiers – Both Grim Reapers
Can’t Forget… We ‘Are’ Our Brother’s Keeper…
Blood – Brothers
… We Are Blood-Bound To Love
Blood – Brothers
We Are Blood – Brothers Of
All Sons and Daughters of Mankind
The Great Spirit Binds…
… Blood – Brothers
I Heard Hate – Beat Down The Land… Did You Hear It?
Pollution and Persecution… Its Time To Cure It
End Our Journey On The Trail of Tears
With Broken Arrows and Rivers – Running Clear
I Hear Heartbeats Across The Land… Can You Hear It?
If You Turn and Face The Wind… You Are Near It
It Pounds Deeper Than The Skin, Or A Flood
It Echoes To All … Its In Our Blood !
Blood – Brothers
… We Are Blood – Bound To Love
Blood – Brothers
We Are Blood – Brothers Of
All Sons and Daughters Of Mankind
The Great Spirit Binds…
… Blood – Brothers
* * * * *
The Eagle Flies On The Breath Of Life
And So Do You
May The Blue Sky And Your Clear Eye
See Many More Moons
Keepers Of The Earth… Guard This Turf
And Each Other
For Every Human Birth… Has Worth
As A Blood – Brother
For Those Killed and Blood Spilled
The Ground Cries
Soaks The Dust… And Curses Us
When A Brother Dies…
Blood – Brother …
‘Twas the Night before the day of Halloween’s Eve
The air was cold and the wind was mean
And on it traveled the fairest soliloquy
Betwixt Good and Evil as they strolled
The breeze brought me the story they told
Of sleep, dust, and shadows
Of teary lakes and headless plateaus
Of the blood brother of sleep
More restless yet deep
Around which broken dreams of split saplings rally
Thus marking his easy to find but hard to leave valley
Moreover mentioning the interloper
Some fine fellows, others right scurvy
An earthly animal, but Heaven worthy
Who at best is Good’s noblest paradigm
And at worst is Evil’s paragon in time
The infinite being in a finite creature
Dwelling in a bottomless cell without walls or ceiling
A void of finality with infinity features
Where the soul can gain or lose feeling.
The interloper possesses a body, heart, and mind
All can be broken, which you will find
The heart can meet the end of love’s stake
And bones of the body easily break
The mind can be destroyed by its own thought.
In the end we are but dust, shadows, and forgotten wrought.
And only as they go
Do I noticed Evil’s haunting ghost
Who walked with Good as the unknown foe
Who thrived in the dark of night
But did so best with a glimmer of light
He is boldest in the day
But while I lay
And as they stride
He has no light in which to hide
For a shadow only plays
While there is light in the day
And Evil is ever and again the master
But solely in the seeming absence of its caster
We were born several months apart.
Our mothers were very good friends in fact
Not a thing did they do apart
Neither from each other did they depart
Although many of them tried to make them part
Some even used dubious methods to hurt
Our parents, but they took heart
And rather than separate them they united them more
I grew up and played with you
Not one believed that am not related to you
Some even said that i looked and acted like you
I guess it was because i was always with you
Like my blood brother i treated you
More than a brother i viewed you
Was always doing the chores with you
And always felt naked when i was not with you
As we grew up so did our friendship
The trials and temptations boarded our ship
But even these could not tamper with our friendship
Different career paths led us to board different ships
Our ways we went as we faced the life's hardships
On the way we formed new relationships
That led to new friendships
And now i sense a fading flame of what used to be a very good friendship
As i write this, i can not comprehend
Why our friendship had to end
Is it because there were some issues that had to end?
Or is it our pride that put the relationship to an end
What would have been a friendship hard to comprehend?
Or is it that our friendship, we did not know how to tend?
That like everything alive it has to be fed?
Kindly help me to comprehend.
Form:
Excuse me Dad,
I have an urgent question.
But first let me acknowledge that my blood brother is now my brother in Christ
Recap
The brother who had ta-toed his body with cigar burns
The one who ripped his chest with a dagger
He spent three months in rehab
Yeap, that one
He survived the physical death and the actual death
Saved twice
Yesterday as I sat there and watched him talk about his journey with gratitude
....It all felt like a dream
A very long dream that began four month ago
I remember crying, escaping, believing, not believing, expectation test
But one thing that remained afloat/contact
The life jacket said
Jesus @ work.
Dad, here is the question.
Do you remember Micah?
His mother cursed him and tried to reverse it by offering You silver
Then came along a Levite
The man predicted it will be well with him
..
Dad, I did read the other chapter you know,
It does not end well with him
It does not sit well with my mind
That I could reckon with a man who raised an image
against You
and said it shall be well with him.
I think it is very wrong to think You will come anywhere near with an idol in between
The levite and the coins and the ephod were snatched away by the tribe of Dan.
I think after all it went well with his soul
But not as he predicted.
But Dad,
What do you think?
of Micah and Wonder and the House of Membley
Sirons and bells of no temple or holy cause
It was the time in Vietnam at field of wars
Uncertain and chaotic situation it was for all
Taking life on hand everyone had to stroll
Heart was panting of those left at home
As all knew war can leave them lone
Final result though was clearly known
Soon air was shock and grief prone
I was on the forefront being the senior
Ordering and commanding far and here
Sudden a gasp of blood flowed near
Start of devotion my legs have to bear
Went on and on for now it was a bullet
One which swore to fix up all hatred
Ah! It was part of my blood –"Brother"
Moving on difficult, impossible rather
Heart crying seeing his breathe dying
And heartless me I was still spying
Being on duty to save the millions
When one in a million went oblivion
With all senses alive saw helpless side
Not helping the one who took my ride
I should have been on his place lying
If he would not have landed sighing
Tremor of questions worst than calamity
World was dying for senseless depravity
Shame! I was a part of such destruction
Has ever war lead to any construction
Ground bleeding humans and sentiments
War never helped replace lost elements
“Stained Time” never becomes a healer
It just teaches to live with vacant feeler.
Name:Sneha Agarwal
Name of contest: World of War-Vietnam