Long Crushed Poems
Long Crushed Poems. Below are the most popular long Crushed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crushed poems by poem length and keyword.
Minab Lullaby (lala-eey-e Minab) -- Part 1 (English translation from Persian)
laa laa laai / [O' my] Daughter of Minab [go to sleep].
laa laa laai / [O' my] new [fresh blossom] flower.
Where did you go? Where did you go?
Why did you go? WHY did you go?
You were my cute [sweet baby] daughter.
You were the bird [of paradise] of my flight.
Why were your [precious] petals pulled, O' my flower?
Why you were [my dear bird] forced to fly out of our [fragile] nest, O' my flower?
*****
Part 2 (English) >>> Salaam (peace be upon you)
Salaam, O' Mother of Minab.
Salaam, O' Mother of Minab.
Like you, I am a mother.
Please help me. Please help my son.
I need your help,
O' Minab, O' Minab, mother, mother.
lala lai...
Please help, O' Minab mother!
Please help; please, please!
I am the mother of Soldier America.
I am the mother of Soldier America.
But my son / But my son
is proud, is proud,
of the ugly tomahawk birds he flew.
I am the mother of Soldier America.
But, O' Mother of Minab;
But, my son / is proud, is proud,
O' Mother of Minab;
He is proud,
of the ugly tomahawk birds / he flew
into
the school bird nest
of your flower daughter of Minab.
WHY my baby boy,
Soldier America / Soldier America,
doesn't understand
and doesn't care,
that the axe of his tomahawk has crushed
your school bird to sleep?
O' Mother of Minab;
O' Mother of Minab.
Help me, O' Mother of Minab.
Help me, O' Mother of Minab.
Not long ago, my soldier son
used to be
my dear baby boy,
and he is my baby,
in my heart / in my heart,
still.
lala lai...
But now,
the bird of his soul / has gone to sleep,
to deep sleep,
and I weep, and I weep.
I plead with you,
I plead, O' my Minab mother:
Help me, Please!
Help HIM, Please!
lala lai...
Can the bird soul / of your school flower;
lala lai...
Can the bird soul of your school flower,
OUR daughter of Minab
Our daughter of America;
Can her weeping soul
sing the lullaby of conscience,
lullaby of conscience,
168 weeping times,
to awaken, to awaken,
to awaken / the soul of my soldier baby?
soldier baby?
lala lai...
lala lai...
lala lai...
I just want to grab myself,
and shake myself,
until all the sadness in me falls out.
I visualise it,
as dusty pile of crushed velvet threads,
crushed like my very soul.
I want to smile again,
and really mean it but I can't,
because behind every look on my face,
there are my eyes that betray me,
haunting dark circles,
barely containing the deep and brooding swell.
I want to be held and consoled,
but not by anyone but you,
friends have tried to comfort me,
and I am afraid to seem ungrateful,
but I am shaking and falling apart all the time,
so I hide from those that would care.
I want to stop falling,
I feel the wind in my gut,
while my heart randomly surges,
like a fist pushing on my ribs,
it makes me sick and it hurts,
I hurt from many directions.
I want to be yours,
I don't want to own you,
but you can have me,
and do with me as you like,
for I know and trust you,
and you are lovely.
I want closure,
but I am afraid to admit,
that to control this descent.
I would have to let you go,
and I am not ready to,
and I never will be.
Because I love you.
I face the final test of nature's truth.
The nights coming fast, I travel unheard.
The reverence I feel, was born in my youth,
tempered by sage, burnt offerings for birds.
Tormented by brambles whose thorns I collect
I come to remains of struggles long gone,
feathers and crushed bone, on these I reflect.
I'm hoping once more, my arms are still strong.
A pine marten scurries, close to my step,
the sweet scent of birch gum, his claws unearth.
My arrow's still sheathed, for creeks I have leapt.
Though I grow cold, my spirit is re-birthed.
Tracks at the creek, the water I savor
the thicket moves, my aim must not waver.
01/25/14
DESTINY
She failed to fly on fairy wings demonstrated by fate whether early or late.
Forgotten past not to unfold, present just rolled beyond control.
Untold future above prediction, what was awaiting ahead!
Her confidence coiled. Crushed competence left relic radiation of dismay.
Let it be, whatever would be. Fate curved and craved path of lamented life.
She tried her most but in vain and pain and again not to venture.
She surrendered to unknown ruthless fate letting ambition sinking in vortex.
Inevitable fate pulling or pushing with merciless thrust to bury in abyss.
06/26/18
Second Place
'Eight lines on fate, when you wonder, it is too late' Contest by Silent One
'BRIAN'S SELECT F' Contest by Brian Strand
Jesus saith unto him. I am the truth, the way and the life. No man come unto
the Father but by me.
John 14:6
Enter The Lord Jesus Christ…
He bled for us.
Through the hours,
in the night.
On two pieces of wood,
one up, one across.
An ultimate sacrifice,
no matter what the cost.
He walked across the desert,
to show man how to love.
And stepped outside of Himself,
to open the Heavens above.
He preached the gospel,
at all and any cost.
As He saw the future,
that our souls might not be lost.
He fought off temptation,
as He walked through hell.
And crushed the evil serpent,
the greatest story ever to tell.
He Sacrificed His body,
so that we may live.
And nailed sin to The Cross,
so our Father would forgive.
He commended his spirit,
and rose from the grave.
Then ascended into Heaven,
so that we might be saved.
He left us with His word,
that He would be our greatest friend.
Until with His Mighty Angels,
He will surely come again.
Enter The Lord Jesus Christ…….
He wept for us.
In the hours,
through the night
Two pieces of wood,
one up, one across.
The ultimate sacrifice,
To die for us on The Cross!
Edvard's exile could not deter
the course as it flowed
or blood that drove
through his body
life had to change
when the soldiers came
bringing tanks and arms of oppression
machines of war rolled and crushed
Europe was hushed
marching on the 15th
raising flags and ideals
London resigned to opening doors
a haven of sorts
for a few
families and friends
were left to defend
breaking cogs to dismantle and hinder
the view
hiding to assemble
coded messages
that were shared and leaked
though aggression peaked
proving too strong to overcome
yet hearts still beat
and there lay a pulse
duty could not be ignored
as the voices aligned
with a throbbing increase
representing a nation
two and more gave themselves
and rose to the call of the people
standing up
proving no longer the victim
for human passion will smash and smelt iron
selflessly with a cost that would seem to outweigh
the weight of a loss
of one soulless life
we remember that day
the 27th of May
when Jan and Josef gave their all for the fight
and with them hope and freedom were alive.
I don't know of anyone who's been successful
in an attempt to capture the encumbrance
of a love pledged and then withdrawn,
nor how to heal a heart from its fallibility.
So, I'm left wondering...
when did the shallow waters of intense love
become too deep to tread?
When did the waves thrash so powerfully
that I was unable to keep my head above them?
I was drowning in the chaos churning in my heart.
Tearful were my eyes in a state of mourning.
Weeping while bereaved and casting a silent plea.
Desperate in the need to escape the captive prison
when my heart was found guilty of gullibility.
Imprisoned by love's bars, unable to take flight,
I was the swan who had lost her mate,
without hope of ever wanting to fly again.
Broken vows are like wounded wings,
and therein was my heart's pitiable plight.
Is it never to be relieved of the agonizing ache?
In gloom of anguish, I gasped one last breath
before crossing the chasm between love and hate.
Too late to beseech my heart for help.
Spurned, it was lamenting over love's death.
Disconsolate, emotions in disarray,
I held a pressed rose he'd lovingly offered,
crushed it in my hand as if I were the flower.
With the power of penance, I reprimanded myself
for having trusted in the pledge of love.
I sacrificed the withered petals,
tossed them on the wind's wayward whims.
Niggled by the feeling of emptiness and loss,
I felt as if I'd just laid them on my own grave.
Under the sky like an ancient parchment, etched with falling stars,
I told her I would be the shadow of the tree under which dreams rest,
I said I would be the place where tears turn into butterflies,
That I would be the silence that embraces the echo of extinguished pains.
But when she came, carrying a universe of storms in her eyes,
I was a stone tree, frozen in my own existence,
No word escaped, no gesture disturbed the air,
Just a glass void, a silence rolling like a frozen river.
My promises, sculpted in clouds of light, shattered,
I spoke them with the voice of the wind, but couldn't hold them in my palms,
I discovered I am just a shadow before the rising sun,
Crushed under the weight of words that turned to sand.
In the depths of her eyes lay a bird with broken wings,
And in my silence, betrayal wove its web like a silent spider,
She murmured... it's okay, like a leaf gently falling to the ground,
And I, I looked into that ‘okay,’ seeing all I had not become.
I saw how I failed to be a beacon in the night, an anchor of words,
Remaining trapped in the flight of a promise that found no destination,
In a universe where words scatter like waves of sand,
Leaving only silence to be the echo of an unfinished song.
Was round about the 60's
And I a budding teen
Was influenced and touched
By a program I had seen
Rod Sterling was the narrator
Of a series quite well known
With weekly visits to a world
Named the "Twilight Zone"
And to this day one episode
The best without debate
Has taught me 'bout the frailty
Of Man against his fate
A short meek man from Queens, New York
Henpecked by his wife
Found his joy in reading books
To assuage a bit his strife
Voracious was his appetite for
Tomes and all that's written
Yet blind without his glasses
He's as docile as a kitten
In the vault under his bank one day
While making a transaction
The world above was subject to
A nuclear reaction!
When he surfaced to the top
To view the mass destruction
He found that only he'd survived
And came to this deduction
No wife! No rules! No one to shriek
Or tell him what to do!
Only stacks and shelves of books
To read, peruse and view
Paperbacks and hardcover
Pamphlets, primers, scrolls
The whole damn New York Library
With him at the controls!
Then as he pictured life
In a world with voices hushed
He bent his head to grab a book
His glasses broke..........................
All crushed.............
A soul once walked in shadowed days,
lost in pride and empty ways.
No peace within, no steady light,
just wandering through the longest night.
Then came a presence, calm and kind,
that met the broken heart and mind.
No turning back, no harsh reply—
just love that saw through every lie.
Words of worth were softly spoken,
lifting what was crushed and broken.
Hope returned where none had been,
as grace began to work within.
It was Jesus Christ who stood so near,
and washed away each doubt and fear.
Value found in perfect grace,
reflected in the Savior’s face.
And now the truth can be made clear:
that worst of souls… was I right here.