Long Chile Poems
Long Chile Poems. Below are the most popular long Chile by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chile poems by poem length and keyword.
Friends , while reading the History of the Incas , I came across the wonderous story of their
mail runners , the 'chasquis' ! Kindly read their story !
THE MAIL RUNNERS - ON THE INCA TRAIL !
(COURIER SERVICE)
The Inca Empire during their hey-days, *
Controlled a large Empire of an elongated
shape!
On the western coast of Latin America, -
All the way from parts of Ecuador and Colombia!
With parts of Brazil in the east;
Including Chile and Bolivia in the south and
south-east;
While the Pacific Ocean washed their long western
beach!
Where the great Andes range like a raised spine, -
appeared out of reach!
Yet on the central verge of this Andes’ range,
Was located their capital Cuzco with its grand
defence !
The Incas had no horses or wheels to facilitate
communication,
But had an efficient courier service within their
nation!
They relied entirely on their ‘chasquis’, - those
valiant mail runners,
For sending messages within the Inca Empire!
These runners ran on that historic ‘Inca Trail’,
Crossing gorges(pogos) and mountain tracks, -
before night fell!
And rested at ‘tambos’** during their segmented
race!
Those Incas had no written scripts those days,
And used knots in ropes as coded messages!
These ‘quipus’ at relay stations changed hands,
While their runners took them to the remotes corners
of Inca land!
Their suspension bridges with ropes indigenously
made,
Formed their roadways as their Empire spread!
And those bridges were maintained every year,
By villagers rendering public service to the Inca
Empire!
Those valiant runners could run in a day, -
A distance of 250 miles , as experts say !
And could put to shame the Marathon runners
of our day!
I salute those sturdy Incas for their unique stone
architectures,
Who honored their Gods and their ancestors!
Their ‘chasquis’, those valiant mail runners and
their nimble feet;
Without horses and wheels the Incas ruled a mighty
Empire complete !
-Raj Nandy
Notes :-
* During the fifteenth century Incas were at height of
their power!
**Tambos’= relay stations , for the Mail Runner (chasqui)
to rest and handover the ‘quipu’ containing coded
messages to the next runner - to follow the Inca Trail!
Thanks for reading ! - Raj Nandy
I wandered the vastness of the universe
Just to meet you here
I considered many life times to glimpse
Your adorable essence
I explored the magical land of Atlantis
Even the technological Lemuria
I lived a couple of thousands of years in Sumeria
And learned to spoke magical words
I lived with the hundreds of lambs in Syria
To learn how to live with them in the barren land
I was in Mongolia to learn how to cook food
And created my own menu
I was with the Emperor and Empress of Japan
To be one of their counsels
I was once a daughter of a peasant in Italy
Learned to live with a single meal a day
I learned to fly an airplane in France
And leave my profession for marriage
I craved to wrote songs in Canada
But still longed for someone I knew
I was with you in the battle ground of ancient Egypt
I learned how to kill and to be killed then
I tried to discover more about myself
Lived inside a cave of mountainous Indonesia
I entered the great temple of India
To learn how to be the master of my surroundings
But died when a mysterious epidemic spread
I created more thoughts and realized inside a cell in Chile
And killed myself for an escape to my wrong ordeals
I existed again to work on my rippled karma
I visited the temples of Tibet to find peace
I discovered how to heal myself
And every person I tormented
I roamed around the great City of Brazil
But to no avail I never saw someone like you
I remembered why I am here then
I still chased you in further ground of Incas
But nothing happened
You still left me for another person
I continued to soar within this land
And was killed while counting miles across the sea of England
I explored the lessons of to be abandoned
As I always waited for this love
I was catapulted again in the battle fields of the Philippines
Where I was killed in an ambush with my three comrades
Yet my desire never materialized
I returned here being wary you was out of life again
I decided to go back to the golden planet
But escaped before the capsule like craft flown
While have had a thought in mind
That I am expected you to came
And now finally we bumped each other again
This will be the last life I shall chose to see you
Since I planned long before this moment
I will be home where I am from
And be one with my sparks.
There is so much division going on in this country, especially with this election and the White House and Biden and Trump and the Republicans and so forth. OMG, why does everything have to be so competitive and challenging amongst our own country. So many disagreements, lies and heated arguments to prove who’s right and who’s better. It seems to be more about control than anything, but where is the integrity?
In this country it’s like people want to “control” a woman’s right to decide what’s best for HER body. Then you have one candidate saying immigrants are coming to take “Black Jobs.” What’s a “Black Job” in America? I so wanna know. That is such a divisive statement.
It’s 2024, there definitely need to be some changes to some of these laws and especially the requirements to the terms and conditions for eligibility for the presidency and also when it comes to our states, because when you have “some” states that do what they want and some abide by the laws and some don’t, then that’s not united.
I literally wrote about this 4 years ago in 2020 called “The United States of America,” and here we are 4 years later, still divided.
Why are we even called the “United States” when nothing about us is united? Truth be told, since the name has no meaning (and it doesn't), because we are so divided and we can’t be united and divided at the same time, then we should just be called “States.”
Better yet, we should just change our name to “VERSUS.” Yes Versus, because it’s the Republicans versus the Democrats, the blacks versus the whites, the rich versus the poor, good versus evil, right versus wrong, Biden versus Trump, lies versus truth, words versus actions, us versus them, power versus performance, strength versus weaknesses, love versus hate, better versus worse, Red states versus Blue states…
It shouldn’t even be called Red, White and Blue, it should be Red, White and Through, cause I’m so through with all the friction, war of words and bickering. It is such a disgrace and it’s embarrassing. I bet other countries are looking at us shaking their head and saying, “whew chile!” It’s like they are watching a low budget movie on tv, Season 10, Episode 8, smh.
Red power mode
White digital
Blue logo
My, oh my ...
sweet apple pie!
Patriotic American cheese is turning sour Kraut commie
Democracy is Wisconsin curdling ... penicillin shot
needed between the ailing ballot box,
sho’ ain’t Louisiana Purchase forthcoming
Lady Liberty is bowing face down, Kansas Toto-style,
to Kremlin oligarchy ...
didn’t take much to bend with Washington wavy subservience
It’s an Idaho russet Ruskie crying shame
Couch the Benedict-ion omelette breaking news:
Missy Freedom done Alaska huskie hussy sold herself
to be a Soviet satellite skirt muzzled tramp mule
Red power mode
has taken cyber control of all voter confidence
White digital bar-code
activate the Manchurian self-destruct sequence
Blue logo brand ruble sold,
keeps the general populace straddling the fence
As they reality TV see their loose Lady Liberty
make a Texas loan star barracuda bow face
Proud North Dakota woman bending her knee,
acknowledging her Bolshevik bastard place
It’s a Kentucky bourbon crying shame
Democracy kissing the Politburo Czar ring
Bluegrass filly ruling class
selling the masses out for the Balaam green
Capitol Hill Star Spangled silent gag,
money mutes on a Pavel dog Con-stitutional prostitute
Wavy anthem cloth used as a snot rag,
Molotov noses following the Red Pied Pier booger flute
My, oh my ...
Marx Twain subversive tweet sweet apple pie!
Collaborator citizens being called patriotic comrades
Eating the Stalinist straw buries,
spit sprinkled with
Chernobyl pyramid scheme
propaganda whipped cream
Traitor taste the Taps Blue Fibbing beer,
free-market funeral dirge price gouge overflowing,
in the white Lenin toe-tag black body bag aisle
While the Ukraine lobbyist piggies
are covetously Crimea coffer crying
Oh, Nevada bordello bosom alligator weep ...
let the Alabama tick tears leech flow
down those Florida lemon-squeezed cheeks
It’s a New Mexico caliente green chile crying shame —
Them neo-Anazazi, gun-clicking squatters
getting a Wounded Knee ice gulag reservation claim
Lady Liberty doing an Independence bow face,
it’s a thirteen stripe, Siberian mongrel disgrace
Pablo Naranjo Golborne / Pablo Golborne / Pablo Naranjo Nordau Neruda
Pablo Neruda (1904-1973), This poet was alive during the World Wars One and
Two. In 1943, Neruda returned to Chile, and in 1945 he was elected senator of
the Republic, also joining the Communist Party of Chile. Due to his protests
against President González Videla's repressive policy against striking miners in
1947, he had to live underground in his own country for two years until he
managed to leave in 1949. After living in different European countries he returned
home in 1952. A great deal of what he published during that period bears the
stamp of his political activities; one example is Las Uvas y el Viento (1954),
which can be regarded as the diary of Neruda's exile. In Odas elementales
(1954- 1959) his message is expanded into a more extensive description of the
world, where the objects of the hymns - things, events and relations - are duly
presented in alphabetic form. There is a disclaimer on the SSS card that says
this is NOT for identification purposes please keep your card in a safe place and
signed. Conflicting thoughts the police back home always asked me for mine
when on the road they ran it like an ID the numbers was instant on the radio. The
Students at this University take the Cat Card and swipe the strip into the slotted
door it makes it seem to me just like the Mark of the beast has come perhaps
early to some. Charles Robert Hice 429-04-1680. Deceased on May 13, 2004.
Alive and living for the return of Heaven door. Jesus oph please come back
before they institute the Mark on mee. To the purists of the poets no apology of
me this is a fabel not a poem not a rhyme intended but a short short story just to
past the thyme. My State Id Card has a PICTURE of me but no number at least
not the Dreaded Social Security Number and it does have the DOB but not
needed until called upon to produce it. Not yet on head forehand or forehead
or hand Most people will be proud to salute a nonexistent leader at the door to
every supermarket in the world the name and number of the beast becomes the
god.
Gang awa frae tha Glen
Tae a fearsome place;
Where tha darkened souls
Hae na gleemps o’grace.
Where tha work must fit
A new tongue and race.
Gang awa frae tha Glen for a wheel.
“Tis for certs He has ca’d
Ye, and ye must roon;
Tae a land o’ plagues
And o’ blastin’ sun,
Where tha rule o’ richt
Hae just sceerce begun.
Gang awa frae tha Glen, Robbie, chile.
There be muckle tae ken
O’ tha people’s need;
O’ tha crops that thrive,
O’ tha life they lead;
O’ tha daily thirst;
O’ their warfare, greed.
Gang awa frae tha Glen, and be wise.
Tho’ tha ship be worsted,
Tho’ tha trail be long,
Tho’ tha beasts be awful,
Ye’ll arrive anon;
And commence tae cant
Tha sweet Gospel song.
Gang awa frae tha Glen, in His love.
And ye’ll spot tha dee
When it starts tae click.
As they bring their young,
And they bring their sick;
For o’ Jesus’ kind
They ken nae sic lik..
Gang awa frae tha Glen, tae be used.
An’ it’s nae sa muckle
That their needs ye know,
Whuch’ll fan tha flame,
Cause your strenth tae grow;
But tha confeedence
“Tis your Laird says, “Go!”
Gang awa frae tha Glen, ‘til you’re gone.
(Robert Moffat, Pioneer Missionary to South-west Africa)
Note: The story is told of the early day in the mission of Moffat when his camp was confronted by a prominent chieftain. The man demanded to know the purpose of the missionary’s visit and the authority who sent him.
Through an interpreter, Moffat advised that he represented the greatest of all Chiefs and that he was bringing news and help for the best in life. The native said that he would kill Moffat and his chief. The territory was under his absolute control. He brandished a menacing spear. His retinue stood at the ready.
Calmly Moffat loosened the breast of his jacket. Striding to within inches of the man’s face, he pointed to his own heart and said, “My Chief lives here. If you intend murder, do it now, for I will not be held back from my purpose.”
The other’s jaw dropped. His spear hand faltered. His bluff had been called. The two would soon become fast friends.
TIDES OF TIDINESS
If I was God, the geographic world I would bless:
I’d start by tidying up my world map for it’s a mess.
First let’s examine the ideal - man-made edges can’t be beat.
Look at places like the USA -Canada boundaries - wow they’re neat.
Saskatchewan and the Four Corners - geometric perfection.
Australia’s states too, and Africa, especially the northern section.
It’s the instinct of all poetic geography teachers
To want to tidy up the world map’s ragged features.
The British Columbia coast needs sweeping with a big brush and
All those islands pushed till they’re joined to the mainland.
Same goes for the chilly south coast of Chile:
So many islands and peninsulas - it’s just silly.
And also the fjorded Atlantic coast of Norway:
Smooth? Neat? Geometric? No way!
The Canadian archipelago too might as well be joined up together
Cos it’s one frozen mass all the time in wintry weather.
Of those messy lakes of Canada and Finland we have no need:
With God’s giant blotting paper I’d make them recede.
And don’t get me started about the crazy course of a river.. . .
Pure logic and efficiency I can deliver:
The Amazon rises only 60 miles from Peru’s Pacific coast
But clearly it felt the need to have something to boast.
It should have gone west instead of 4000 miles east to the Atlantic
A wasted effort, silly choice - it ended up being absurdly gigantic.
And I have bigger complaints, such as South America
Being fitted back where it belongs into the coast of Africa;
And the Red Sea’s coasts, moved apart like edges of torn paper all raggedy:
Dunno whose idea that was, but it ain’t foolin nobody.
Obviously they should be stuck back together jigsaw fashion
To satisfy my geographical neatness passion.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
*This is the latest in my series of Nutty Geographical Poems.
Take a glance at your bedside atlas to see the places mentioned.
I was wondering how it happened,
That we were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
We had gone there without thinking of anything but love,
Love so true, so deep, so fine.
We had gone to the hotel the night before,
She was to be my true and only one.
We embraced each other that night as husband and wife,
And planned to continue until the rising sun.
I had prepared it well, at least I thought,
A great dinner, show, and then Champaigne.
She added her own personal touch for me,
A hot, slinky, pink, see-thru negligee.
Oh, I was aroused, to say the least,
The Champaigne wasn't the only thing to pop!
Then, in the midst of our doing as lovers do,
We lost our focus and had to stop.
Something was amiss there in the night,
Just what I could not tell.
Her countenance changed so rapidly,
From tender lover... to demon from hell.
In a funny way I felt so strange,
I knew she had felt it too.
But the testosterone in me just had to ask,
"Did the Earth Move for You?"
She looked at me with mouth agape,
"How could you ever ask that of me?
When we are alone on our honeymoon,
Thousands of miles from home, here in Chile."
"Of course the earth moved for me,
Do you think I have no feelings at all?"
"Of course you do!", said I in sheepish reply,
"Did you hear something coming from the hall?"
We both got dressed quickly then,
And we bolted for the door.
As the earth had moved for everyone,
The shaking was coming from the floor.
I had never experienced an earthquake you see,
So my natural thought was that it was me.
But when that building started to shake,
I had to take it more seriously.
We got to the street just in time,
As the hotel fell into a heap.
Yet there I was with only the clothes on my back,
And a newlywed bride...I guess I would keep.
"Did the Earth Move for You?"
Storm: Mexico's Killing Fields
A failed state by anyone's definition. With a corrupt government. Hand in hand with the drug cartels. Same with every branch of the armed forces and police. All in it together. Partly funded by drugs, kidnappings and murders. With weapons and equipment provided by America. Broken faith that it makes a difference.
Eighty thousand dead in over a decade of drug wars. Twenty six thousand missing. A number that rises each day. A tap on your door at 6AM. Taking you in front of your family. Resist? Then you die. How many families can pay up? How many hostages are safely released and reunited? Who is taken next?
Nobody is safe. Drive down the highway, cops can pull you over. Call your family, he says turn your phone off. You disappear. Forever. Government say it'll help; it doesn't. Only the families keep looking. So many missing loved ones. They look even if it kills them. No other option.
There are burn pits in the mountains. Your loved ones died here. There is evidence: broken bones, ashes, empty fuel containers, bits of rubber and wood. To destroy the bodies so DNA is corrupted. The chances of identification are almost zero. The thugs are both smart and skilled. And always get away with it.
The year 2015, it's just like 1985. Events in Mexico are bigger than Argentina, Chile, El Salvador and Nicaragua combined. The 'Disappeared' keep disappearing. Students going on a demo end up missing, presumed dead. Not even the army intervened. Was it them? Working with the cartels?
The whole world is watching and nothing is changing. What will it take? A revolution born in the land of revolution? The blood of a hundred thousand more to stop this mess? Rising up and overthrowing their corrupt leaders, the military and police. Is that possible? Or a fool's dream in a one sided war?
Endless purple flowers
and salt pools like polished mirrors
give color to the desert
and reflect the clear blue sky---
disguising with their beauty
the poor soil and salinity
of wastelands inhospitable,
inarable and dry.
Wrapped in a serape,
and sipping chocolate´,
I gaze up into the universe above me,
musing in soliloquy
on Him who formed the galaxies,
and thinking of eternity,
while hoping in His sympathy---
that He has formed a soul somewhere to love me.
Oh, Chile,
your beauty, charm and mystery allure me:
Wild as the desert breeze,
rugged as the heaving seas---
la alma solitaria
su eco puede eschuchar
y encuentra su lugar
dentro de ti.
Vine rows gently rustle
in the sunlight warm and gentle
as carmenere fills glasses
and companions wine and dine.
Blue mountains, dusted white with snow,
uniting sky with earth below,
cast shadow on the living
like sundials of the time.
And the rainbow-colored buildings
are contrasted with my feelings
as I walk the narrow avenues
unnoticed and alone,
contemplating freedom's price---
a wanderer in paradise---
whose travels, like the tracks of tears,
have marked the passage of the years
but led me to no comfort, home
or friendship but my own.
Oh, Chile,
your beauty, charm and mystery allure me:
Wild as the desert breeze,
rugged as the heaving seas---
la alma solitaria
su eco puede eschuchar
y encuentra su lugar
dentro de ti.
Oh, Chile,
your beauty, charm and mystery allure me:
Wild as the desert breeze,
rugged as the heaving seas---
la alma solitaria
su eco puede eschuchar
y encuentra su lugar
dentro de ti.
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