Long Borneo Poems
Long Borneo Poems. Below are the most popular long Borneo by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Borneo poems by poem length and keyword.
We are primates, one and all
And our heritage is not from the fall.
The primate group is where we’re from
And no matter how far we’ve come
We owe our past through ties of time
And that’s the purpose of this rhyme.
We are a great ape, just like the rest
While some people think we are the best
We share certain traits with others like us
And shows the relationship without a fuss.
With tailless primates, the great apes all
Four Genera of Hominids, but only we stand tall.
But interestingly enough, other Genera are less succinct
Each have two species, reproductively distinct.
Of the chimps, Pan, bonobos in a seemingly fright
Use sex to settle things rather than fight.
The common chimp will settle things
With a stick in hand, that it brings.
Of the Gorilla group, peaceful eaters of fruit, leaf and seed
Just look somewhat different although they can all breed.
There are also some differences in the sounds that they make
As well as the chest beating of which both species partake.
Then Pongo, we have, the oddest of all
On Borneo, sometimes, they descend and stand tall.
But mostly alike with some minor differences in hair
The fascinating thing is the flange that some males bear.
We’re not really sure what the flange is for
But it seems to play a role in sex, we’re almost sure.
One male in an area will develop this trait
And it will seal other males’ reproductive fate.
But given the circumstances, if the situation has need
Any male can develop this structure and breed.
And then we have us, of *****descent
The only naked ape, fully walking not bent.
No others survived, it’s rather quite grim
We are the end of our evolutionary tree limb.
But what separates the monkey from the ape line
Is that monkeys have tails but apes lack this vine.
And in general apes have a bit of the size
In spite of the fact that we lack that tail prize.
The only naked ape, fully walking not bent.
No others survived, it’s rather quite grim
We are the end of our evolutionary tree limb.
But what separates the monkey from the ape line
Is that monkeys have tails but apes lack this vine.
And in general apes have a bit of the size
In spite of the fact that we lack that tail prize.
During the Second World War, people were panicking everywhere in the world. And of all continents, Asia was one of the most devastated in the history of wars.
So many people in Asia were victims of slavery. Most of them are women. They were victims of molestation and rape. The worst of all, slitting them in their necks or being stabbed so deep between their breasts after being disrespected.
The story of the loaf of bread started not in China or anywhere else in the North, but in the Far East -- the place called "Pearl Of The Orient." Pearl of the East, as it is sometimes called, is situated north of Borneo and south of Japan, east by the Pacific ocean and west by the China sea. The map itself shows a shape of a human form.
Many people who have lived in the Pearl country had a hard time during the Second War. One loaf of bread is equivalent to one family's meal of six, or even ten. The scarcity of bread during those times is not caused by the insufficiency of flour or yeast. Salt, as an ingredient, is not supposed to be the problem too. Only that salt was used for other purposes.
One loaf of bread is the prize of winning the lives of one whole family in hunger and danger. In different ordeals that almost all captured families were going through back then, if you don't have a loaf of bread then you have to earn it. Otherwise, every single member of the family dies. Many times a loaf of bread is placed on top of the head of the man of the family for shooting. And sometimes a loaf of bread is used for marinating human flesh. If you don't know the exact number of slices in the loaf of bread that you are holding, your life is in danger too.
The loaf of bread is the story of a country's downfall for defending its land from invaders. The loaf of bread is not just food, but life for a loaf of freedom and justice.
Years ago, I had a college roommate named Herbie.
His uncle was anthropologist Leonard Kirby
who was reported missing when the plane he had flown,
crashed in the Borneo jungle at a spot unknown.
Herbie had insisted his uncle was still alive;
despite what was declared on the news program at five.
Dr. Kirby was an excellent pilot to fly.
Herbie said there’s no way his uncle went down to die.
When the spring break began, Herbie would sell his Hummer,
and got enough money for a trip in the summer.
He asked me to join him on his jaunt to Borneo.
I responded with “Yes, I would really like to go!
Deep in the jungle is where Dr. Kirby appeared.
Herbie recognized him despite his very long beard.
Herb told Dr. Kirby “Uncle Leonard, can’t you see?
I’m your great nephew Herbert; don’t you recognize me?
The old man answered “Yes nephew, don’t be so sappy!
I’ve found a wife and a brand new life, I’m quite happy!”
We were puzzled until we saw this monstrosity;
a huge native woman standing at seven feet three.
Dr. Kirby said “Boys, this is my wife Josephine.
She’s the most wonderful woman I have ever seen!
I’m so glad I found her because she’s so big and strong.
As long as she stays with me, I can never go wrong!
Once she was bitten by a tiger in an attack.
This only made her angry, so she bit him right back.
And here’s the strangest thing that can never be denied:
We heard only two days later that poor tiger died!
No boys, I’m not going back and leave this happiness;
because I owe too much in tax to the IRS.
To me, this jungle is just like heaven on the earth.
If I go back home, they might send me to Leavenworth!
So tell the whole family for me I said hello.
Don’t miss the last flight out of here, so you’d better go!
for "Die a Fun Death Contest"
The roosters are in full glory crowing mode today.
Some dogs are challenging them now.
Between the barks and the ruffs and the coos and the caws
it is difficult to hear the traffic on the interstate.
An orange butterfly breezes down, seemingly from a tall oak tree.
The flutter of this insect brings my eyes to the sky.
A jet plane makes barely a noise as they dash past.
People on the way to somewhere.
I am lying on my back in the grass looking up at twinkling leaves.
A hawk flies purposefully past me a few times.
Measuring me for supper?
Sizing me up, to figure out whether or not she can take me home to her hawklets?
They would have a big feast if she could lift me.
She makes two or three more passes.
If she was a turkey buzzard I would have been a bit more worried.
I look at the dog. She was groomed yesterday.
Today she looks like the wild child of Borneo; there are bits of straw or leaves
all over her coat that looked super velvety and shiny when we came out here.
The tiniest ant I have ever met came over to see what I was writing.
She pranced around on the edge of my notebook.
Maybe she is a reader ant. Maybe my words make sense to her.
I ponder this and smile, lying in the sun, on a warm day, listening to the roosters and the dogs.
She lit the candle in evening’s repose
then held the pages bound and decorated
in story-fabled paper coverings.
She buried her head in the words of others.
Arms outstretched and folded on a pillow,
she tightly held a lifetime of explanation.
As she opened each page of wishful longings
her thoughts drifted into unknown
yet sometimes familiar places.
She buried her head in the words of others.
Devouring and mouthing each line-
foraging like a hungry child
starved from intangible imaginings.
Imbued along the infinite road of her freedom
her head kept filling with vestiges
of rolling oceans and dire deserts-
of tawny forest and snow covered peaks.
She buried her head in the words of others-
hiding in the jungles of Borneo-
riding black stallions over the plains of Africa-
awaiting the earthrise from craters on the moon-
listening to the city of a million people
contemplated in the dulcet tones of Miles Davis’ trumpet.
She buried her head in the words of others-
entombed in a poet’s lyric read aloud
turning the pages that fell across her heart.
She swallowed each wonderment within-
filling an empty cupboard of feelings
like the moon melting in a rainstorm…..
Phhhhhhhhhh!
Tired and inspired she blew the candle out
Damn the torpedoes
Damn the torpedoes the Yanks did say,
When duds hit a Jap ship and fell away,
Firing pins weren’t working well,
One sub loosed 13 didn’t break the spell,
Just sometimes one was right.
Bloody thing would ignite,
And the Yanks would bloody yell.
Nineteen fourty four, pins good now for sure,
Sam Dealy and submarine Harder,
Transporting Aussies to Borneo, for,
To upset the Japanese pardeners,
Muiat Suki, Jap Destroyer,
charged the submarine,
Head on was sitting Harder,
1100 yards Dealy fired 3 torpedoes, i mean,
Chopped the fork out of his enchilada,
Next day at 650 yards,
Destroyer Hayanani came,
3 torpedoes hit this Destroyer,
Too many holes it was a shame,
Blew the fork out of his nighty,
Just the same,
The Reaper danced, begorrah,
Z Force men went ashore again ,
Into the wilds of Borneo, and then,
Ole Harder went a hunting men,
Of the Japanese type of fauna.
Don Johnson
Submarine Tinosa (ss283 ) July 24th 1943, attacks Japanese oiler No 3 Tonam Maru west of Truk, Tinosa fires 15 torpedoes 13 hit but only 2 explode. Tonam Maru is towed to Truk by light cruiser Izuzu and used as a floating oil storage tank.
I observe Rajang,
Enclosed in space,
Rugged Orangutan,
Face to face.
Nonchalantly you inspect,
Stroll towards myself,
We reflect.
Gazing deep, searching souls inner,
Your so beautiful
And me...I'm the sinner.
Inwardly I apologise,
Through embarrassed eyes,
That I am here
Free in.. humane,
Useless thoughts.... in vain.
Audience akin
Your rusted fur
My uncomfortable skin.
Hatred for my peers,
Thirty-nine years wasted yet you amaze,
Attentive gaze,
Foraging stare... so aware,
Soul searching.
For you are the wise old man of Borneo,
Majestic aura, emotions I'll never know,
Yet you and I stand opposed at your enclosure,
Questioning each others composure.
Hands splayed, touch mentally through glass,
Clinically cool, my breaths, I gasp.
Deeply now we analyse,
Through moment shared, emphatically I apologise.
As I am affected, beyond belief
Benevolent thoughts, whilst I bereif.
'I'm so sorry' I whisper
Adding a smear,
Warm breath, cold glass
... Followed by a tear.
Form:
Deep in Borneo
The myth was broken
No headhunters did i find
But in the morning i was awoken
Some tribal people
Near a plateau crest
Have finally spotted
The boy's of the forest
I had heard they existed
For many years
In forests so deep
Away from modern tears
These boy's are so different
On their back they have wings
With birds of paradise they sit
And they speak through sings
From the reports i hear
They look like you and me
And no wonder you ask
How can that be
At sometime long ago
An evolutionary fork
Has taken a different path
While, maybe others did abort
Is there a reason
Why they have lasted the pace
Are they the future
Of our human race
On these beautiful islands
Creatures of old, undiscovered
Hidden for reasons
In greened canopy covers
Today i travel
To this plateau crest
To glimpse these boy's of the forest
For them, their presence will rest
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-3.php
TOGETHER
We were one, brothers in continents
We were alike, humans in this world
Millions ages ago, we trek together
You the lovely Maya,Incas and Menorah's
You the friendly Chin, Malay and ...........
Paying homage to each in the past centuries, we love
Yes. It is true,I remembered
The great treks from Amazonia through Sahel to Himalaya
We rested in the overgrowth's of Borneo
Those nights we hunt together
Those dawns we worship together
The tree Idols, the Sun, the Moon and the crop gods
That is the blood of brotherliness in us
Warriors of Asanja,
The keepers of the sacred covenants.
True brothers, true humans
Never depart and let not us
Our journey is near to end
Let be together and not asunder
To pray our last.
Call to Amadioha, Chukwu and Onyankopong
As smokes of burnt sacrifices rises high
As those olden days
Calling to him, that shadow of our messenger
To go and see the master for us.
We are Tausug Nation
Defending independence
Free from the enemies
Stood not to get oppressed
Our Nation ruled
Of the country’s independence
Never conquered from then
We shall develop our land
Our country, nation is known
Home of courageous person
Bound only in one faith
Never care of the death
Tumantangis, Dahu peaks of our land
To Bagsak, Sinumaan
And to all the mountains here
Only one God is aimed
Zamboanga, Basilan, North Borneo, Palawan
Centre is in Sulu land
Ruled by the Sultan
From the early point of time
Our nation is united
In the name of faith is complete
Only God is firm
Determined not to get conquered
Land of the pearl garden
Sulu Sea in the world is famous
From the South and North
And East and West
Blood of Martyrs flowed in the vein of the Sug Nation
Fought to defend
Flag rose like Vinta strip
Eternal pledge appeared
Form: