Long Civilization Poems
Long Civilization Poems. Below are the most popular long Civilization by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Civilization poems by poem length and keyword.
inspire me
the good
the bad
life bleed them both
could it be sudden
when life go bad
could it be a destiny
when life is good
I keep on moving
moving on my track
in life
walking in an era of lies
in a world traped in brutality
I see the good come
I see the bad same
I never fear no more
cos them both differently
inspire me
inspire me
am not perfect
so I need an inspiration
to my destiny
it is obvious
what the time now bleeds
it grows fear
cos too many events
of grieves are obvious
in our third word civilization
so also to the world
it is too bad right now
darkness is covering our lights
and now we can't see clearly
how to lose the captive free
so we are not free
when freedom is our ultimate goal
this is so sad this is so bad
and this differently
inspire me
inspire me
the days are hot
it realities keep
revealing the lies
hidden in the truth
were injustice are justified
for how long will we
continue waiting
for the better day's
I wish this day's are now
I wish heaven is closer
to this hell of a life
we living in the third world
is sad is bad
this negative life differently
inspire me
inspire me
practice love
preach human equality
show peace
gave care
sing for unity
be honest
teach humanity
don't let the children suffer
be strong
be brave
fight for your people
protect your women
only by love
one can be safe
from the lack of happiness
in a world of illusion
this is why love
inspire me
Not every land is born from beauty—
Some are merely drawn on maps.
But Assam was shaped by rivers,
By rain-soaked earth and ancient chants.
Here, the Brahmaputra does not simply flow;
It breathes—
Like a timeless guardian
Carrying the pride of generations
Upon its untamed waves.
The mornings arrive wrapped in emerald tea leaves,
Where dew rests softly
Like pearls upon a queen’s attire.
And when the first sunlight touches the gardens,
Even silence becomes poetry.
The forests of Assam are not empty wilderness;
They are living kingdoms—
Where the one-horned rhinoceros walks
With the dignity of a forgotten emperor,
And the wind through bamboo groves
Sounds like nature reciting sacred hymns.
In Majuli, the river cradles culture.
In Kaziranga, the wild still remembers freedom.
In every village courtyard,
The rhythm of Bihu rises like a heartbeat,
Binding people, soil, and sky together.
Assam is not only a place—
It is fragrance after rain,
It is the sound of distant drums at dusk,
It is courage blooming quietly
In the heart of nature.
While the world races toward noise and steel,
Assam still teaches the art of harmony—
How rivers can shape civilization,
How culture can bloom without losing roots,
How nature and humanity
Can still walk hand in hand.
And so, with pride,
We raise the name of Assam before the world—
A land where beauty is not borrowed,
Where tradition still breathes,
And where every sunrise whispers:
“This earth is blessed.”
Released from captivity are the sons of Israel, and with tears of joy they are received by all. Today is given the name Peace 2025 indicating an ending of brutal war. Neither adversary was present, yet an extraordinary event. Can’t build a lasting peace with hate as a building material. Is it true tranquility is what awaits the world or a temporary armistice, a break in the storm—lingering disarray of what is already rubble and dust—a dystopian gray. What shall these torn nations find in an entanglement led by hyperbolic politicians, known for their vacant promises. An immovable permanency that shall lead to unity that was once in our illusive dreams, is it what it seems? Oh is it what it appears to be? What happens to a dream deferred, does it dry up like a raisin in the sun or bring a new bloom of blustering flowers from beneath the desert sands. What tempests are these that blow over deeply rooted in religion, in the eras, in the cradle of civilization.
Freed!
anticipation
Jewish son freedom now comes~
their wait exhausted
WHAT HAPPENED
Darkness is enveloping sinister
and frightening,
Elusive, alluring, captivating and
Inviting,
Every night it falls like a
clock that is punctual,
And we accept it as a part of
Our life that is factual,
Whilst the earth revolves
around a burning sun,
Giving us light,
Our moon revolves around
Planet earth,
That’s how it all began.
In the beginning was God –
The beginning of time,
Is when light and darkness
Starts to make sense in this rhyme.
And eventually the beginning of time,
Sought for man, and so we
Began our inevitable climb!
Thanks to Greek Mythology,
And the gods, Prometheus, it is said
Stole fire from the heavens, giving it
To humankind,
Which brought about the start
Of civilization, for now
Man could find,
And make warmth, hot food,
Primitive weapons, comfort and light,
Warding off dangerous predators
Of incredible might.
But Man also inherited evil
And so it was born,
From the serpent and Eve,
No longer was man as God
Made him, naïve.
The time of darkness and light,
And evil and good,
Is now understood,
Both were rife
In life!
The Crusaders who fought and killed
In the name of Christianity and God
Were a so called valiant lot,
But truly an evil killing squad!
After many eons we evolved and
And arrived at the last century, when
Two world wars were fought!
Millions of Jews were killed
In the 2nd World War’s plight,
Under Hitler, an evil leader who only
Saw his light,
In battle after battle and fight after fight!
Today we still fight the battle
Between darkness and light
It's name is narcotics, which allure
Youngsters into the darkness of life,
For which they will slice one
With a knife!
What are we heading for, for what
Is our strife?
Humankind should fervently
Pray for peace,
A life that is far from evil and dark,
Remember what happened for only
Noah, his family and few animals
And his Ark!
This could certainly happen again!
If atom bombs severe our planet in parts,
Human hearts,
Have already been chosen from
The North, South, East and West,
To start a new era from the mild, kind,
And faithful who have already
Been put to the test!
THE REBEL ARTIST Why do you paint pictures of silent days?, Lonely roads, lonely streets; of beggars groping their way, holding hands to each other, making beggarly music to awake crushed passions. Is this your country? Once flowing with milk and honey! Now a beggar, begging from those he once fed! Independence Day? In those days, we trekked far from hinterlands to freedom square, expectations high against odds to receive golden salutes from heroes past...Those days of innocence, when civilization slapped us in the face...when euphoria of this treacherous sovereignty beclouded us not to see this end that comes... Why, Rebellious Artist, why do you paint pictures of baby-strapped women saddled with loads, why images of riotous youths, corpse-Iittered streets. Paint pictures of these green-white flowers, adorning our great country. Paint him, our man, the president. Oh! It was beauty last night glistening all over the Aerodrome as he beaded farewell to his countrymen, boarding the air to Saudi Arabia!
Sure few ones know where the world's going to stand on
history speaks restless in time civilization after civilization
many theories are taught till today through education
anarchy is reaped there with contrary and contradiction
good people are always trying to feed better conception
but their alacrity does not auger well fully in any condition
so often they suffer mentally from humanity's hypertension
hanging uncountable differences of castes creeds and religions
games of suckers of political power, dominating will of many nations
tuning uncompromising attitude, intolerance, nepotism's maturation
few trying to make the life of this world long through international organizations
restricting harmful uses of desterus weapons by the official proclamation
knowledge of history may help if studied with true scientific visions
if all the nations do not come to think in common platform's combination
then surely one day this world will face dangerous destruction
Charge d'affaires struck by lightning bolt
While high falutin dip low matt
flying his kite insurgents
planned coup d'etat
clear out of blue, a devilish
forked, jagged, knifed
dagger "O" type electric current licked
more'n the pants off harried envoy
clear rants heard
all the way to Timbuktu
damn donnybrook loosing mayhem
special averred ambassador
last best hope
thwarting total mortal Kombat
Zeus bribed - putin two and two...
together spelled collusion
arch enemies of democracy de facto
2020 election in cahoots,
whereby sore loser trumped,
activated thinly veiled plot
made good diabolical promise
demanding winning or else
"ye ain't seen nuttin"
imposing himself victor
nee, declaring tyrannical
prince sup pulled "purple" reign,
despite just shy winning majority
crowed as "FAKE" optical illusion
claimed apparatchik infiltrated
voting booths rigged
machination stole courtesy
bounty on mutiny playbook page,
the average joe buyed
entire hook, sink, and liner
titanic ruse to unseat
all time self crowned best president,
apprentice skills garnered
thru "art of the deal,"
albeit machiavellian
who refused to admit defeat
usurped, proclaimed, kindled... diktat upon
those opposed driving fiat
vis a vis disallowing, discharging,
disenabling, disguising, distilling
carving up United States
in league courtesy
best buddies Kim Jong Un
populace will pay price
bear every burden
every hardship el don jon doth
punishingly mete out
recruiting military modern
death cab for cutie squads
dirty deeds done dirt cheap
personal vendetta and vengeance
as just desserts
succeeding presidential term
to abdicate pronto
lest civilization bombed
back into stone age
no matter enfranchisement
law within lady liberty land,
nonetheless he decreed
global hegemony forever
pressed hot button
omnipresent nightmare manifest destiny
global destruction unleashed
threatened to obliterate
every last trace of mankind!
Arabic: (Alam) meaning "world" or "universe"
A character of a madman has a role in the play.
Henceforth, the casting was done,
Alam, the madman, to mentor in the acting,
the wanderer in the graveyard area
his folded sleeves hold the world, in fullest.
Throughout days, one might notice
his gesture, in talking, in walking, in waving
The way he solves all those problems in this lowly world
Within just a blink of an eye.
A face, covered with beard and mustache reminds often
The magnificent Karl Marx.
One might wonder if Karl Marx was himself a mad person, or not!
An absent-minded thought like this brings me smile
Through ages, men, way ahead than their time,
Preachers, revolutionists for a greater change
Falsified in their cults of blames of being “mad”,
more or less.
In midst of all this, a pair of fatigued, absent-minded eyes
Wander beyond the sky
faded songs of tragedies, lives.
Turbulent river waves ensure overflowing hypes
Ebb tides,
And Alam , one madman.
With him, I also reach my predestined tears, bursting ones
A drag of memorable gems!
Some of those days, graveyard walls Index finger, boasting higher,
All that loudness in noisy speeches, acted up, yet no lies
Alas! Utterance of these intrepid, bold truth, yet
Abandonment for ages!
Tonu, Muniya, Sundarbans, Black money, Tears of Mountains
How all those synagogues and worship places
are burning into ashes for race and class
Cities are burning down,
Neighborhoods, Maps, Palestine, Brussels, Paris
Angry fire of greed is burning down countries
Alleys and unknown cities.
Men are getting killed in broad daylight
With his proud civilization.
A saddened soul, I, return to my window
The tree branch, on the other side of windowpanes
greets my forehead, with its shadow, gently
And I simply wonder,
Everyone is acting quite fine these days
except
the one and only, Alam , the madman.
October 14, 2022
Tribute: This is an effort of a translation of a poem of poet Ehsan Nazim
Along luscious green acres banks steep grade
(in close proximity to
Petticoat Junction) naturemade
Perkiomen Valley watershed,
verdant landscape displayed
yours truly, (a garden variety
proto human) arrayed
solely donning birthday suit,
whose fifty plus shades hair gone grayed,
i.e. one infinitesimal measly mortal
whiles away hours, laid
back days of his life as
the world wide web turns
comprising second decade
of twenty first century
civilization, where
coronavirus veritably waylaid
furlough afflicts populations feeling betrayed
entire fabric *****sapiens staid
threadbare existence now best describes
chock full of endemic ennui proliferates,
where vast majority of people afraid
to leave their houses lest COVID-19 played
greater havoc, whereby society already upended
unemployment factor at record high since...
Great depression witnessed
courtesy somber parade,
eighty nine years ago benchmarked
from May 11, 2020,
an invisible oppressed heaviness weighed
down the madding crowds
aghast how stock market trade
hit rock bottom making paupers,
ill fate clobbered breadwinners
circumstance none could evade
October 29, 1929 haint no charade,
when Black Tuesday hit Wall Street
bitta bing bitta bang bitta played
bitty bitty chitty chitty bang bang
linkedin with irrational exuberance portrayed
American economy supine splayed
versus March 11, 2020 characterized
coronavirus outbreak as pandemic
by the WHO subsequently signaling
Trump cited "fake news" and not dismayed
to expedite drastic measures
none would impede golf, nor Mar-a-Lago
leisure him sipping lemonade
acid test teetotaler - tee zing 'bout
not quaffing electric kool-aid
without getting his doggy dimples in a bunch
he grudgingly complied and obeyed
purveyors (governors) and Anthony Fauci
complete United States government shutdown
approximately mid/late March 2020
which undertaking generated brisk business
grim reaper experienced
(still does) protracted heyday.
I'm the sleeping child in the ribcage of civilization
Forgot that I need to wake up for absolute time
It's time, yes, it's high time to write poem
It's time to write a letter of poem on yellow envelop
It's time to write poem on the fallen leaves by new born dews
It's time to write poem to know you and to make know you that-
I'm a poet of catastrophic world!
It's time to write poem on the broken wall of the world fate-
Where everyone warns each other about the manhole
But after fall in the manhole none comes to rescue;
Where everyone warns each other about covid-19
But after contaminated by it everyone leaves alone;
Where all leaders confer and conscious about global warming
But after completion of the conference forget all manifestations
It's time to write poem on the tombstone of the departed hope-
Where the expected great life is written in humanitarian white paper
But human life akin to puppet, for the atomic power exhibition by war;
Where everyone is called for the prodigious unity on hidden graveyard
But unity becomes the bargaining products in the market of superpower;
Where every child takes birth to touch the ultra-developed science
But at the end inhumanity makes them the modern child of violence
Oh it's time to write poem to know me and to know all that-
I'm a poet of catastrophic world!
© Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
26/10/2022