Long Chen Poems

Long Chen Poems. Below are the most popular long Chen by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chen poems by poem length and keyword.


Human Being Shell Sleep No More

Human being shell sleep no more,
Lubits has murdered our sleep forever 

Right up we must get to the hard truth
and not blind out the fact
that our wisdom and common sense 
should not have been overestimated more
in certain crucial circumstances
when we  have got  access  even for instance
 to the limitless power and possibilities,
as it happened in French Alpes,
when Lubits tempted deadly by the very thought and way
that he will might turn airbus to the crash
for instance filling the God legacy and omnipotence.  
Entirely all deals and events
which demanded limitless power and responsibility,
limitless calculations,
limitless competence and preciseness  
and limitless hard works and efforts
might be totally excluded 
from our control and assessment,
we might got all this staff
to the autopilot guiding
of modern technologies, GPS  and other computations
that works  much more  better
without any human intervention
for the very working processes.

 Mr. Al Gore knew something about it
when he  planned the Global  system
of autopilot security services.
for the benefits and survive  people
in the modern jungle of high tech.

You judge the Lubits atrocious action
which lead to murder of 150 passengers,
yes, you are right but also we must judge
the Sirian dictator and North Korean Kim Chen Yn 
and national lieder of Russian Federation  
and hundredth other persons 
sticking up deadly to limitless power and rule,
we must judge also religions, traditions
which despised the freedom of person
and right of women and children
and entire world must switch on
to the Global safety infrosracture.
Human shall sleep no more,
Lubits has murdered our sleep.
If someone held limitless power
even for instance 
close to us or at far distance,
its mean the world goes down to precipice.
God please help us 
expelled out and ousted 
the myriads  our tirans and autocrats  
in power and in preparation, in family
in our soul and  in our mentality.   
Human being shell sleep no more,
Lubits has murdered our sleep forever.
 

http://www.fishpond.co.nz/Books/Eleanor-Rigby-II-Zamir-Osorov/9781482830385?
Form: Ballad


West In Our Hearts

That was the worthiest step and decision
our pressing  to US for its airbase in Manas  expelling
from our land. The politic so vexed
so self-destructive  and  depressive
from various points and consequences.

When all our ancestors
from beginning of times, edem and hell
dreamed unlock our region
for west legions,
even if that were a war troops.
We gratefully received Alexander the Great,
for his strong impetus
joining West and East
and after his death
created own legion
of great conquerors,
from Kudzula Kadfises,
till Atilla the Great, Tamerlan
and last dreamers -  great Mogols.
All of them devoured to reach
the West values almost maniacal
through India, Russian, Byzantium, Germany
mainly  on horses
but sometimes  on  bouts of Baltics Vikings.

So mister president of Kyrgyz Republic
be honest and wise and brave
for truly friendship with West air force,
that so kind and friendly
deployed in our land
and so profitable
give  us  great money for our safety,
instead our paying them.

Why on Earth we trying
to be so polite with Russian
and so harsh and rude with USA?

West in our hearts
ask our grandfathers
from Kudzula
till yours favorite Kutuzov?
All of them fighting for freedom
and West values.

I didn understand completely
yours Kremlin patron
for his unnatural  hatred
the USA  and West  as whole
as if Russia don't belong to Europe,
so strangely polite with various enemies
of West,
as if he badly  want to leave
in company
with Ahmanijad, Bashar Asad,
Kim Chen Yr
and other moderns  Orcas and Goblins,
where nothing  from  common sense and eloquent.
We are urgently ask you, mister Putin,
left this airbase  with us.
Kyrgyz people so long
wanted to be with West
even with its military base
better,  then with traditional allies
our bastard friends and cultural comrades
around us
right in the centre
so long and hopeless  locked  Eurasia.
Form: Elegy

Premium Member A Journey To Zenith

Written: June 25, 2023

______________________________________________________________

We evolved toward the Zenith Ringers.
While no daylight is expected, I am thrilled.
With Banana Cakes, Cheez Whiz, and Zingers.
At Family Dollar's end, our hearts are tilled.

Maybe with Viagra or Valium to help us relax.
Even children suffer from heart attacks.
We sought refuge in modest pleasures.
We spotted willow trees in the ledgers.

Rising from within hexahedron walls.
Within the warmth of the Dollar Tree.
Nature's splendor is revealed, rising tall.
The American syntax is a story to foresee.

This is how the yarn of each firm ends.
Zombies stranded on the planet Zoom.
The new wildlife biology is an odd room.
In the Neptune State, Job's parking trends

We're being taken down to the ocean.
where we plunged into the dim abyss.
Saw the ruins of an ideal ship with emotion.
on a covert task, with mysteries to reminisce.

"Cheap America Lot" went into the search engine.
It brought me odd and creative results, as Chen Yun
There's Outpost Lot, Balaclava America, and Snap Cheap.
Names reflect our place in the world, for eagles must sleep.

Nothing else truly needs to be said.
To drive you on your ascent to the sky.
Has filled us with both hope and dread.
Maybe there will be fewer zebras someday.

existing unrestrainedly in the wild.
Amazon plays ZZ Top's remade tracks.
Happiness in the form of music restyled
But for now, we accept solace in the tax.

In the public squares where we meet and talk.
As well as paparazzi photos of famous people.
In cosmic cruisers and Super-Yachts, such as Hawk.
We practice space travel in our fantasies sheeple.

The lower class, for now, is striving for ease.
Despite devouring pizza in general squeeze,
As no tolerance establishes the standard.
Let the jigsaw fall, which signifies a fresh lanyard.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

The Old Camphor Tree In My Memory

Author: Runping Chen

The desk sends forth its particular fragrance
That gladden people’s hearts.
That is the sweet-smelling of the old camphor bodies
And into the impression of my childhood immerses.

The shade extended my fellow villagers’ strolling;
Countless summer nights embraced people’s joyful cooling.
The huge and tabescent trunk held up
The wind and frost for generations’ living.

The refreshing breeze was kissing the head of the tree.
Kindly pulled the old camphor closer
Some strands of cooking smokes
Vaguer and vaguer.

The production teams’ whistles were resounding over the village,
And grownups shouldered the sun and moon
Hurrying to the hills and fields 
While the old camphor collected the children’s imaginative yields.

--In its chest
The childhoods would not be lonely and flurried 
Counting from the stitches of leaves
Thousands and thousands of suns.

Many rivers of time were flowing around;
With no sense of time, the sadness I’ve known.
Since I was away, many shifts of the sunrise and sunset 
I came back home and found the old camphor fallen on the ground.

It’s lying on the ground with no voice and sound,
Being dying and breathing
The merely last fragrance of its life
In front of the horrible carpenters who circled around.

The carpenters held their stainless saws
Ignoring the old camphor’s itches and aches.
On its shoulder was an owl
With the mouth open, and family ruined after all.

Prizing up the mouth for no use of vomiting sadness,
The birds sang no songs any more in the sky
Because they could hardly find back 
Houses and household articles among the green leaves.

Children carried in both hands the remains of the old camphor’s bones,
Hating to pile them in the firewood house.
When the setting sun was sliding down the west hill ridges, 
I walked back and forth around the old camphor tree.

Batting 300, Part I

Ted liked to ride the rodeo,
it made him feel alive inside,
but he never had that much luck
taking bulls on eight-second rides.
He wanted to reign like his friends,
take home some of the prize money,
so he doubled-down and he placed,
made the top three regularly.
Still, he did not top the rankings,
dnd he was not so pleased with that,
until the day a small cowboy
came to ask for Ted’s autograph.
Stunned at the sheer admiration
in the eyes of that tyke tow-head,
Ted supposed that he should be glad,
not many men bat .300.

Pedro had a gift for making sales,
he could sell sand to desert states,
was going for a big bonus,
the money he could almost taste.
But it went to a co-worker,
who had notched up just two more sales,
Pedro went home in a foul mood,
to his girlfriend, and he railed.
Until he heard a phone message,
fe brother Juan had been let go
from his baseline clerical job,
he he’d survive, he didn’t know.
Juan had barely made thirty K,
so Pedro could no longer see red,
and thanked God he still had the chance
to go out and hit .300.

Chen was said to be the smartest
person in all of his high school,
the kind of knowledge that made all
of his teachers appear to be fools.
At the Physics Olympiad
he thought he’d be regional best,
but Chen’s ego was smashed that day,
he only came in second-best.
You have to see a geek enraged
to appreciated it fully,
then getting fast-food driving home,
Chen ran into his old bully!
The job had truly beaten him down,
and later when Chen went to bed,
he felt quite thankful that his mind
was able to bat .300...

CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Form: Rhyme


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Form: List

Leaving For a Distant Place

Author: Runping Chen

In his mother’s eyes,
The child is dragging her coat brim;
On father’s broad shoulders,
I am still weak and young.
Today, the swallows are trying a fly
While I am also about to leave home.

At the entrance to the village, the bus is moving ahead.
Mother’s tears shedding like threads fastened the child’ heels.
Exhorting me a hundred thousand times  
How could she exert a full heart of worries on and on,
However far and near, just as beyond the horizon.

The wrinkles on father’s forehead
Were crowded with drastic heartbeats
And he saw the child stepping forward
The weak and puny footprints.
Perhaps walking on and on alone,
The child might understand the hardships that life trecked on.

Birds will fly high and deer will run fast.
This long journey is on my life course the first.
To rouse the young wings
So as to be firm and proud
And to say farewell to many years of shield
While I’m trying to fly, to a distant sky.

Mother, wipe off thy tears, please.
And tell father to wait for the swallows’ return;
Don’t walk back and forth at the entrance of the village
Where the cypress tree is in the direction of my homing passage.
I will stretch my wings that have gradually become browny
And perch on your life eventually.

The Memorial Grave

Author: Runping Chen

Such a grave 
Has buried more victories;
In the pervading beacon-fires 
An “Iron Army” rushed out
And set up a monument their bodies
Which cut across storm of shots and shells.

Here is the solemn and quiet;
Could people have heard the intense musical note
And still have seen the heroes
Wiping out the national darkness with their blood,
Pushing their hot hearts to the bore of guns.
Bloody battles deserved the news of a triumphant return. 

Heroes, peace to their ashes.
For them the evening glow
Pulled open the red satin quilt.
The survived country fellow 
Beside you crowded
And around the Tingsi Bridge gathered.

How couldn’t they be grieved and crying?
How couldn’t they be excited and proud of?
The seven-hundred-year stone bridge was staring 
At the historical battlefield, and listening to the bugle snarling;
It was with knitted brows
On its forehead, painfully and unceasingly grieved.

The rivers and mountains were all moaning
And chanting the earth-shaking fight.
The monument holds up the heroic undertaking,
The chaos caused by war entered the past at the meanwhile.
You heroes have composed the mountain range,
Blended with the earth as a whole.

Premium Member China Spies and Lies

China Spies and Lies

Concentration camps in the north
disappearing book sellers in the south
Chinese spies hunt one and all
Army of thieves , worldwide

Zhao Ziyang, where is he?
erased from Chinese history
where is the brave young man
who battled one thousand tanks?

Xu Jiatun, where is he?
erased from Chinese history
truth has no play in China today
only death and propaganda reign

Xi Jinping, crimes against humanity
Lu Shaye, propogandist to the core
Leaders of a revolution long dead
corruption their cause, their only rules

Coal plants and cigarettes
Keep your silences
even you may lose your breath
This is China, spies and lies

Jailed Activists
Ai Weiwei
Bao Tong
Bao Zunxin
Cai Lujun
Chen Pokong
Cheng Jianping
Gao Zhisheng
Guo Quan
He Depu
Hu Jia
Huang Qi
Ilham Tohti
Jiang Lijun
Jiang Rong
Jiang Yanyong
Jiang Yefei
Li Hai
Li Zhi
Liao Yiwu
Liu Di
Liu Xiaobo
Qin Yongmin
Shi Tao
Tan Zuoren
Tang Baiqiao
Wang Bingzhang
Wang Dan
Wang Quanzhang
Wang Xiaoning
Wang Youcai
Wei Jingsheng
Wu Gan
Xu Zhiyong
Yang Jianli
Yuan Hongbing
Yue Xin
Zeng Jinyan
Zhao Changqing
Zhao Lianhai

Today Is Mid-Autumn Festival

Author: Runping Chen

Here is the noisy lodging house
Where I cannot compose a poem in reply to Dongpo’s Prelude to Water Melody
Because whoever can hardly
Bear the accumulated homesickness.
I sang loudly
In a melancholy.

In an avulsion, my voice
Sang to the top of my bent.
The tacit moon, 
crude and rash like that, 
Wouldn’t realize
Her radiance gave a burn to the man away home.

Would you like some moon cake, my friends?
No! I’d rather go outside
And have a bite of the moon.
Therein I might relish that taste.
I wanted to throw my mind up into the starry sky
And swim in the limpid moonlight.

The cool breeze raised the brows of the clouds.
My heart was even brighter than the Mid-autumn moon’s eye 
While however I opened my heart I couldn’t see my hometown
A both ancient and young sadness of parting,
Always classical 
And refreshing now and forever. 


Note:
Prelude to Water Melody is the Ci poem written by the famous poet Su Dongpo in the Mid-Autumn Festival of 1076 (the Song Dynasty). It takes moon, full and crescent, as the symbol to describe the reunions and separations, joys and sorrows of people’s life.

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