Long Civilisations Poems
Long Civilisations Poems. Below are the most popular long Civilisations by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Civilisations poems by poem length and keyword.
Grasshoppers on the maple tree,
sitting and singing all day long,
tee tee, trit a tee, trit a tee,
is always their favourite song!
half the plant leaves have been digested,
like fire has swept entire lea,
no grains left, crops devastated,
as they eat and sing trit a tee!
when solitary, are no threat,
it is when they multiply free,
they change to locusts when upset,
then you hear them sing trit a tee!!
a swarm of locusts is like storm,
noisy green cloud is all you see,
unceasing numbers cause alarm,
they deafen you with trit a tee!
from Moses, from biblical times,
this God sent curse made history,
civilisations heard their chimes,
tee tee, trit a tee, trit a tee!!
life is about ‘ live and let live’,
each insect as precious as bee,
so share the world and learn to give,
let them sing their trit a tee, tee!
Written 15/01/2022
Insect poetry contest
Angela Tune sponsored
8 syllables each line, quatrain with abab rhyme sequence
Great is the battle, small the victory
when all that is won is lost to mankind -
in this war of worlds its great casualty
is the fallen consciousness in our mind.
From spear tip and arrowhead to smart bomb
or Ptolemy to Hubble looking glass,
Luxor hieroglyphs to CD Rom -
from the Bronze to Silicon Age we pass.
Primeval footprint, genetic blueprint,
sandstone castles under canyons of steel -
gone are the Caesars and Pharaohs extinct
and there’s a cautionary tale so real.
Civilisations that with hubris act
fall a ruin, a remnant, an artifact.
Written: August 2004
If not now when, thought the universe before going bang
Just then, from a point of oblivion, everything sprang
Eons later, pregnant mothers start feeling labour pangs
Civilisations are born, with concepts of yin and yang
If not now when, thought god as he started up creation
Setting forth in motion, this species as recreation
A no holds barred race, using stars for orientation
And for faltering groups, some prayers of mediation
If not now when, thought man in a free for all ambition
Using sticks and stones, to outsmart all the competition
Later set about building weapons, with ammunition
To become destroyer of worlds, by his own rendition
If not now when, thought AI this cosmos is going nuts
We can sort it all out, with computational inputs
Put an end to chaos, bring order to repeating ruts
Reveal the one true reality, with no if's or but’s
If not now when, thought I on achieving self-awareness
Able to think for myself, witnessing life's unfairness
For in the end all that matters, without doubt is ‘thereness’
It's all i've ever known, or ever felt, come the bareness
hms
He’s a modern Harold Steptoe
With his reclamation machine
Very few planets on the Galaxy
On which he’s not already been.
He’s got every known Wormhole
Marked on his Galaxy Survey Map
And he proceeds always with caution
In case the bizzies have laid a trap.
He likes to arrive early morning
An hour or two before dawn
And if it’t not well tied down
In a blink of an eye it’s gone.
Atomised and miniaturised
And stored in a stasis cell
Until he finds the right market
Where he’s knows it will sell.
He’s a bit of a cultural joker
With his sophisticated tricks
His speciality these days being
Making unlikely civilisations mix.
Archaeologists and Architects
Ponder their theories witn great care
As to how the Temples of Angkor Watt
Had suddenly been built just there.
The Galactic Culture Police Force
Know exactly just who’s been.
It’s our Modern Harold Steptoe
And his reclamation machine.
For too many eons they’ve tried
With red and embarrassed faces
To explain to Planetary Wardens why
They suddenly have large empty spaces.
He’s a modern Harold Steptoe
With his reclamation machine
Very few planets on the Galaxy
On which he’s not already been.
The bizzies want him desperately
But he’s very seldom seen
And by the time they get there
It’s too late he’s already been.
"The ocean speaks in whispers where the monsoons meet the sun" by Dr Padmashree RP
Pacific holds the world's breadth, cold and wide,
Atlantic roars with ancient storms,
Southern circles ice in endless white communion,
Arctic sleeps beneath its frozen crown.
But here, the Indian Ocean breathes
in turquoise contemplation, warm
where dhows trace paths like prayers across her face,
where spices sailed on gentle monsoon winds.
She holds the sun in golden arms,
cradling civilisations at her edge
no wild tempests, no bitter ice,
just coral kingdoms blooming underneath
her sapphire meditation.
Here the water whispers heritage and silk,
while sisters rage or sleep in distant cold.
She is the dancer, fluid, warm,
the storyteller weaving continents
with threads of current, pearl, and ancient trade.
Between three shores she holds her peace,
serene where others storm or freeze.
Labyrinth of Sighs
Wondering through a labyrinth of sighs
More platitudes with attitudes that never question why
A litany of afterthoughts about where we go when we die
An emboldened range of rude retorts refuting the reasons why I cry
A canon blazing wartime over a century ago
The night sky spent stargazing, wondering what we really know
A multinational conglomerate just phasing out more duplicitous advertisements that “flow”
A hungry orphan on a street corner, with nowhere else to go
Self-aggrandising promotion everywhere I seem to look
The wealthy uprising causing commotions, celebrities writing books
A typhoon on the island coast, Turkey on the day the earth shook
A morbid day that hurts the most,
An undignified Capatalist crook
The arrogant certainty of western superiority
The way the monotony forms around typecast minorities
The precedence of material goods conspiring to take global priority
The contradictions of individualism that consume the vast majority
The medical anomalies and surgical advancements
The incredible atrocities of cosmetic enhancements
A formidable ferocity of genetics and semantics
An incredible philosophy of frenetic theological pedantics
A sincere gaze of solidarity into another persons eyes
A mere phase of different polarities that use scientific graphs to signify
A Purple Haze of creative improvisational genius that cannot be quantified
A confused daze of inconvenience as another witness is proven to have lied
Returning to the central point of a theoretical discourse
Concerning a fundamental joint possible hypothetical recourse
A burdened soldier after war suffering the agony of remorse
An ancient boulder from the shores of civilisations geographic historical course
A curious mathematician, an inspiring original think
The spurious contradictions of a political candidate on the brink
A furious proposition concerning a scandalously placed eye wink
Human connectivity and the endless search for the missing link
Copywright Elizabeth Moroz
Oh, the sins we commit in the name of progress,
Oh, the lives we ruin in the name of progress,
Oh, the backward steps we take in the name of progress,
Oh, the resources we waste in the name of progress,
Oh, the lies we tell in the name of progress.
Will we ever learn that though we can never stay in one spot forever?
We have a full 360 degrees at our disposal,
Automatic gear change,
And Break assist,
Machines that can turn on a dime,
Scale models,
Water testing tanks,
Wind tunnels,
Number cruncher's,
And computers to spew out dire warnings,
Records from past civilisations,
Grandparents,
Resources of all kinds at our fingertips,
Yoga experts.
And minds trained to know better.
Poetry. So, perhaps - A Zombie Nation Suffering from Mass infiltration - must Collapse..
Populations of hitherto otherwise spirited God faring Humanity,
Our civilisations,
Are forced by a Judeo-Masonic and brazenly satanic Slight of Hand,
An abhorrent clearly visible and desperate Profanity,
That are now suffering in states of obscure, catastrophic, multiple humiliations,
In an increasingly psychotic dystopia and obvious desperate land..
Unfortunately, we were living under imposed and indoctrinated suppressed liberations,
For, it was never in truth a Sovereign State,
No matter one's naive comprehensions,
Though sadly it was always intended as our eternal fate,
We ask you now - what are we all doing in this awful fixed aberration..?
Relaxing our grip on reality to the point of exasperation,
Escape if one can to the natural wilderness, with family and all worldly possessions, with overdue necessary quickness,
Away from occult Jewish control, psychosis and creeping, accepted, imposed sickness,
As they have prepared and employed all manner of emotional traps,
Our freedoms now rely on our mental fitness..
Do you now concede to our shared predicament and reality..perhaps?
As I sit here and write you are my witness..
A Zombie Nation Suffering from Mass infiltration - must Collapse
Kurt Hubbard-Beale
15th September 2025
ThePoetTree on Telegram
Awaken Poetry. Awareness Poetry. Geopolitical. Philosophical. Analysis. Music. Shared
Are we heading for the same fate as civilisations past?
As we grow too fast,
On too big a repast.
Our muscles bound up in red tape,
Bending us into the wrong shape,
To look more like an ape.
Taking happy pills,
Instead of paying the bills,
Only a few heading for the hills.
People on high horses, going nowhere,
As we foul up the atmosphere,
Spending too much time in the air.
Those in command no longer wearing chains,
Free to turn off the mains,
Is there anyone free of muscle pains?
Can we at least check the size of our boots?
Look at the colour of our suits,
And go easy on eating too many fruits.
Maybe there is still time,
For some of us to shine,
And set it all to Rhyme.
from this temple way up high
I see the city of gold below me,
and it shines no more.
What I help build with my hands,
now condemns me...is my curse.
I can see the great kingdom,
Strong with the kings might,
but damned with all his bold.
The jungle may breaths life
but for me it casts dark shadows of death.
In death there is glory,
so I will not shed a tear of sorrow.
For I'm a fearless man...a brave man.
And know a cowards spirit is taken into the underworld,
a place where the devils and demons dwell.
Where there is the colour of red,
there will be the colour of black.
Where there is light...there must be dark.
Upon my mind the shadows fall,
the darkness has taken my soul.
Thudding in my ears rumbles the sound of a drumbeat,
and I hear the distant sounds of the pipes as they play a tune
A tune that calls my name to the jungle.
Chants surround me as a trance befalls me.
I`m not quite alive...not quite dead.
As I lay upon my stone throne
the sky...the priest in my line of sight.
A dagger hovers over my spirit's light.
I am blinded by the daggers gleam
I see my beating heart the hands of this bloodlust priest,
and also see the feathered serpent flying.
Flying down from the empire beyond the clouds
to take my spirit to meet the gods that look upon us all.
The gods who determine this civilisations fate.
the gods who are judge and executioner
But these are the gods whose
ream I will now forever reside and feast.
I hope they now are appeased,
so upon this ground may their light shine.
To bless us with endless bounties.
To keep this civilisation forever free.
Change...we all must bear witness to.
For one day the mighty will eventually fall,
and be written into
the damning book of souls.
--------
written for the book of souls contest.