Long Caspian Poems
Long Caspian Poems. Below are the most popular long Caspian by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Caspian poems by poem length and keyword.
COME HOME SOLDIER
No more sounds of tanks,
The rain of bullets has seized,
Grenades are no more fund,
Remove your helmet and lie down,
Let the peaceful breeze calm your head,
The era of peace has come,
The withered grasses now green,
Flowers shines like the Caspian sea,
Babies happily glued to mothers’ bodies,
The rain wets the ground,
And smile on everyone’s faces,
To the gallant man,
To the brave soldier who fought side by side with his comrades,
Depart from your gun and come home.
ANYABOLU IFEANYI DOMINION GENTLE
A.D 2019, 19 MAR
I had the nicest rooster,
An Orpington named Blaze.
He was around for several years
Until a fox ended his days.
His feathers were burnt orange,
A handsome shade of buff.
A pair of deadly spurs
Made him majestic, fierce,and tough.
A regal disposition,
Amiable for the most.
(Though my mom and younger siblings
Would not usually go to close)
Several years he ruled sovereign,
Though his rivals were not few.
Foes like Caesar,Kristoff,and Caspian,
Were amongst the fowl he knew.
Despite the opposition
(Like Kristoff,Terror of men),
Blaze controlled the throne,
And the guardianship of the hens.
But eventually Blaze was challenged
By Vinnie,the upstart cluck.
Blaze was beaten and chased off,
Suddenly down on his luck.
Forced to go into hiding,
Blaze was in very rough shape.
Between age, and his recent defeat,
He needed time to recuperate.
Then one day,an evil fox
Attacked Blaze in his weakened state.
Though not immediately killing him,
The event sealed Blaze's fate.
Sustaining grievous wounds
He lived for a few more days.
Eventually Death caught up,
And that was the end of Blaze.
Somberly I carried him
To his final resting place-
Deep within the forest,
Where I buried him sound and safe.
"Goodbye,Blaze",I murmured,
As I layed him down to rest.
Sorrowfully I left him,
A heaviness in my chest.
I will dearly miss him,
And be thankful for all the days
We had,when he was with us;
I'll miss you,my rooster Blaze.
PALMWINE
The tapper ascends the height,
To get it from the palm sap,
The height he descends having the mysterious gift of nature,
Crystal like the caspian sea.
Grey hairs with their cups at hand,
Ready to taste the feeling of gladness,
Gladness with sweetness that fills the soul,
The dead and weak are awakened by its savour,
The rejuvenator of the inner man ????
Bring a cup full of palmwine,
A cup made of ivory to a bride,
Let the bride seek the love of her youth amidst the crowd,
Men clamouring for the cup till the lover is long searched for and found,
And the taste binds their hearts together
Hearts of men!
Simulate the palmwine of its purity,
Let the thoughts thereof be of its sweetness,
The sweetness let it not be spilled on the ground,
But let it be poured into the weary souls.
Drink with loved ones,
With the keg in the middle being surrounded,
And let the jars be filled with happiness.
HAPPY NEW YEAR SOUPERS
ANYABOLU IFEANYI GENTLE
.[for jolly][whatsapp:07061816037]
When I die will I have known I took a trip to Dubai?
Or when I once sailed along the Caspian Sea
Will that time and place remember me?
Will I have known I toured the African plain?
Or trailed the Black Forest in the rain.
Will I remember I smoked ganja with a Rasta man?
As we laid bare across the white Caribbean sand.
When I die will it matter that I went to Dubai?
While my spirit filters through the ages still restless and cold
I will hitchhike a Boeing to haunt Abbey Road.
Wear the crowns and the jewels that queens once wore
and borrow a mink coat for my Paris tour.
Will you see my shadow as I drift through the snow?
Climbing atop of Mt Kilimanjaro.
Oh why, oh why did I go to Dubai?
When I visit my grave where my family still mourns
Replacing my flowers that have withered and torn.
I will ascend Mt Rushmore to sit on George’s face
While counting the stars and staring into space
Stowaway on the Challenger on its next mission,
raising my flag to claim my position.
I will return to earth and rest by a tall redwood tree
Tired from my journey as I sip hot lemongrass tea
I told a lie, I never went to Dubai
But I did once love that Caribbean man
as we made a print still engraved in the sand.
I have been restless in life as I will be death
For I want to feel freedom knowing I have little time left.
Go easy on me God for you have known my heart
I may have not been the best, but I did my part.
But doing my part isn't good enough for me
Because I live in a world that I’m dying to see.
FANTASY WORLD 2
In the field all alone,
Adorned by the wind blowing,
I lay down to stretch my bones,
Looking up the sky,
Seeing glittering stars,
The clouds moving.
Light moved towards a direction,
Bringing to presence a seemingly human figure,
I pushed my feeble self forward to see,
What a beauty to behold she is,
Her long hair glittering like the caspian sea,
Being a match with her sapphire blue eyes,
Her bosom adorned with roses.
Gearing forward towards her,
Almost nigh and near,
She disappeared like flash.
She smiled to me from afar,
Though I was exhausted and weak,
I became implacable and surged forward,
My leg hitting a stump I felled,
With all my energy lost,
I was exasperated and felt that I have lost her,
I laid down,
With my face on the ground,
A sweet voice whispered into my ear,
I raised my face,
My eyes beheld the beauty I earlier saw,
The looks in her eyes were pretty,
Our hands clustered together,
In warm embrace we were ,
And the moon smiled at us.
ANYABOLU IFEANYI GENTLE
A.D 2018 , APR 20
A place where the forgotten still roam free;
of creatures and lands that once used to be.
The doorway to here could be any where;
to a time of myths and legends thought rare.
I see them, playing out along the shore,
four children have just now come through “the door”.
They stand in the shadows of what once had been,
a palace that housed their four thrones within.
They remembered back a thousand years and more
when once before they had come through “the door”.
Peter and Edmund, the great kings of old
with Susan and Lucy, fair queens decked in gold.
Their coming brought an end to the white witch’s reign
and united all Narnia under Aslan once again.
He sat them on Camp Caravelles’ four thrones
and the reign of these kings and queens would be known.
All the land prospered under their generous rule
and unlike the white witch, they were not cruel.
They grew in their wisdom on up through the years
until, while riding their horses, they just disappeared.
While riding deep in the forest they came
to a place remembered as “spare um” by name.
Upon reaching the lamppost, they ran to "the door"
pushing their way through coats, they fell to the floor.
On their return through the wardrobe, they were children again
and their time in Narnia they did not want to end.
But once kings and queens in Narnia, always they would be.
This is what Aslan said in the story that we read.
To be continued...........
***From the Disney-Walden Media movies based off “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe”
and “Prince Caspian” novels written by the great C. S. Lewis***
The great Kings and Queens have now returned
to a time and a land so foreboding and spurned.
Since the time they had left what could have gone wrong?
For what had once been, all Narnia now longed.
Little did they know the adventure in store,
the reason they were called back through “the door”.
This castle so strong an army had attacked,
Narnia was passing from sight- this to them was fact.
But one was born to rule and restore all things,
a Tamarin prince who was meant to be king.
Young Caspian grew up amidst deception and lust,
hardly was there now a soul he could trust.
Circumstances threw these young ones together,
choices they made would seal Narnia’s fate forever.
Hatred for the past fuled the world of men,
they swore the land of Narnia would never rise again.
Prince Caspian and High King Peter led the fight
rallying Narnian creatures in the quest for the right.
And so both sides had at it till mighty Aslan appeared,
the coming of the great lion put down Narnia’s fears.
Now, a just king Caspian’s words were heeded,
King Peter and Queen Susan were no longer needed.
The young ones vanished from the sight of them all-
Edmund and Lucy would one day hear "the call".
So, a last look around as they step through “the door”,
a tree in the courtyard took them to “ another shore”.
They arrived the same spot, awaiting the train
but having been in Narnia, they’d never be the same.
***From the Disney- Walden Media movies based off the C. S. Lewis novels
“The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe” and “Prince Caspian”***
Silent Lies and Deception
In the silence of murky waters
There slithers oily snakes of the night
Wearing masks of deception
Beware of fools singing with Stalin’s tongue
The KGB shall set you free
Drowning you in the river Volga
The cold water keeping your lips tight
Whilst the silent ones spread their deceits
Lies, lies their dirty little lies
I wonder how their tongues wag and loudly sprout
So righteous, like imams with out a doubt
I call for radio silence
When comes the clique of hate
They say they have none, and
Maybe this is true
They run out at times, spreading it to you
Those who truly have good will and peace
Growing like flowers in a botanical heaven
Never spew the bloody insecticides here on earth
That alters the genes of peace in me and you
Beware of white sheep
That howls like the wolf at the full moon
A wise man knows the meaning of silence
Silent ones simply slither sneaky prose in the night
The Caspian Sea
Holds many ghosts who if not for death
Could tell you many silent tales
Of those with a million smiles and twisted masks
Seekers of the Silent Lies and Deception
Dead Sea and salty tombs
Silent in womb
Notes: The last poems Angel and Devil, about mans ability for both good and evil, I continued the theme here, by describing two repressive regimes, Russian under the likes of Stalin and Putin and the Palestinian one under Arafat. The poem is either incomplete or to be continued in a second poem, as in the end I inferred the Silent one Amina, a story about the repression and hardships of women in India. An excellent book by a great author Fiza Pathan.
I am a puzzle
made of pieces.
One for the girl who woke my heart,
one for the girl who broke it,
one for the man who shook it,
one for the man who took it
(when it wasn’t his to take),
one for the man
who put it together again and made it beat.
There’s a piece for the Hindu Kush,
and Logar and Wardak
Kandahar and Uruzgan
and one for the thunderstorms in Gardez.
One for every friend
whom I’ve outlived
which is to say
so, so, so many.
There’s even a piece
made of pieces,
links in the chain of friends
that led me from one to another,
all the crazy people I used to love.
There’s a piece for the friend
who hasn’t left my side;
a piece for my Wonder Twin,
one for each brother;
a piece for every mother who loved me
and every father who left me
and every teacher who built me.
I have pieces
for people and places,
ideas and things.
A piece for the nights
in drunken paradise,
a piece for eyelash icicles
in the north country cold,
a piece for the Adirondacks
and Boldt Castle
for the summer we played
before the playhouse came crashing down,
a piece for all the top secret hours
in vaults.
I have a piece for Alabama,
for Arizona,
for Snowflake and Avalanche,
for inside jokes
and viral videos.
You can borrow my top
and we’ll get some shoes.
I have pieces for the Greater Caucasus,
for my Bakuvian balcony
where I’d watch the sun rise
over the Caspian Sea.
I have pieces for Kyiv
and for Stockholm,
one for the Great Wall,
and so many pieces for Japan.
Pieces for Joshua Tree, Big Basin,
Dogwood, Crestline,
pieces for all those cross country road trips
east to west or west to east,
there and back again.
There are so many cat shaped pieces,
Stubentigers who have loved me,
for every cup of coffee that touched my soul,
pieces for every trail run,
every weight lifted,
every crushed thing – both goals, and hearts.
So you see
I am puzzling.
If I know who I am,
I have shown you.
If you have a piece
for the villain I was in your story,
just know
that I’m not misunderstood.
I simply
did not understand myself
back then.
Water Hand Pump
I wonder whence the pipe goes?
Underground Niagra, Mississippi or Caspian Sea?
Working the Up-Down Handle like Punching a PIN,
A Subterranean ATM of Cool Crystal Quench,
Sometimes the Handle Ignores Rapid Work,
Just as Licking a Stamp, I Have to Prime,
Give to Get, Down Goes Wet, Up Comes Sublime,
As If Sensient, What Goes Around, It Understands,
Physics Doesn't Play Games, Invest the Good,
Even Salt Water Brings Up the Sweet,
Not Machine Psychology but Leather Swelling,
Sealing the Gap Between Bucket & Sub-Dwelling.
Now Primed, Pumping Towards the Ground,
Creates Cavity 'Tween this World & Maybe Hell,
A Spurting Fountain Results from the Well.
If Only All Life Were Clear & Transparent,
Nature's Dignity Comes from Innocence,
In Figuring Things Out, I Stand More Erect,
Glimpsing, Enacting Cause & Effect.