Long Distant drums Poems
Long Distant drums Poems. Below are the most popular long Distant drums by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Distant drums poems by poem length and keyword.
In the flowing scroll of time, said Confucius, blood remembers where it came from. The mountain does not forget the stone, nor does the sea deny its river. You, Taiwan—jade carved from the same dragon—why drift like a petal in foreign wind?
Does not the moon rise over both your skies? Do not ancestors whisper from the same soil? To sever root from root is to starve the tree. To follow distant drums is to forget your own heartbeat.
Mao Zedong declared: history is not written in ink alone, but in the scars and triumphs of the people. You, Taiwan, were not born apart—you were torn by tides not of your choosing. But tides return. And so shall you.
The eagle may circle, offering wings not your own. But its feathers will one day fall. And what will remain? Only your brother’s hand, reaching through time.
We built bridges of steel, cities of light, dreams powered by the pulse of a billion hearts. While others play chess on your soil, we offer you home.
Sun Yat-sen speaks with the fire of a founding dreamer:
A house divided cannot stand tall in the storm.
We dreamed not of fragments, but of a nation whole.
Beware the flattery of foreign lips.
They trade friendship for footholds.
True strength lies not in separation,
But in reunion of hearts never truly apart.
Let not history be your cage—but your compass.
Their voices now braided like rivers reunited: Do not be fooled by smiles with fangs, or coins exchanged for chains. Unity is not submission—it is the rising of one sun for all.
We do not come to conquer. We come to complete. You are not a guest in our house—you are the missing room in our ancestral palace.
There is no honor in standing alone, when your family calls you to the table. No dignity in division, when your name was once spoken in one breath with ours.
Taiwan, child of the same mountain, come home—not in fear, but in fire. Not in silence, but in song. Let us turn from walls to windows, from exile to embrace.
For the dragon does not devour its tail—it encircles, protects, unites.
And as Confucius softly concludes: He who knows harmony walks with heaven. And the nation that reunites—will shine not only for itself, but as a beacon to the divided world.
The journey here on this good earth
Is something dear for life seeks mirth.
The poise of cheer now sings of lines
Of waves sincere in love divine.
The passage greets not one but all
In trials we meet through sweet and gall.
The voice of now speaks of a fate
In fond endow that's never late.
The moments touch full scope and scan
In grace and grudge beyond mere plans.
The choice of thought make feelings swirl
In cast and plot that weaves and twirls.
The figures race as if to fit
Real time and space where risk grooms wit.
The style of face makes poignant poise
A friend of grace that flavours choice.
The sudden surge of active works
Arise with urge to fling and jerk.
The spark of feel in honest truth
Can surely heal in actual proof.
The matters then attain a sphere
Of how and when to face life's fears.
The way of zest follows a glimpse
Of fruitful quest that inspires dreams.
The pictures stream in fluid seeing
As distant dreams merge with being.
The smiles outlast the bitter end
As all things pass around life's bend.
The causal tone sense joys that fling
A fleeting zone in pulse that springs.
The time soon ends for each my friend
As soul greets trend in final span.
The frontiers sought in plots so brief
Now ties the knot that ushers grief.
The end must come for game and fate
For distant drums announce too late.
Leon Enriquez
21 March 2015
Singapore
The gentle morning breeze
Came sailing into the room
Spreading around perfume
The sleeping bride did tease
Arise O sleeping lady rise
The special day has come
Listen to those distant drums
Its long after sunrise
Look at that pink dress
Spread with jewels and gems
Your companions around them
With loving hands caress
You look like an angel dear
Your face serene and sweet
But your heart a nervous beat
For the future you might fear
Look now, look at your man
His eyes adoring you
His hands reaching for you
Your new life has began
May the Heavenly Father
Bless both of you
So that together you two
May have a splendid future
It is a night creamed by melting darkness.
Fireflies are obsessed with secrecy tonight
And dim their lights cautiously, frugally.
Crickets and cicadas crepitate with muted
Feelings, sallying wretched, orphaned tadpoles.
I cringe from traditional horror,
Wincing with the power of concern.
Lest I forget, the moon travelled out of town.
The constellation was keeping wake in the outer
Universe, where stars were hired for their lights.
There’s a nocturnal feast going on somewhere
Dimly deep, remotely perturbed,
Beyond the barren brooks beneath transmontane lands.
I hear sounds of distant drums which are silent
On the shoulders of beleaguered cliffs.
They sound like they are being beaten by fettered hands.
Such throbs trouble me.
I hate to be the first to announce the obituary of poets
And musicians, but this moment stifles my resilience.
Darkness lingers with either fortitude or arrogance,
Reminding me of the desolation of higher, clammy
Terrains and narrow footpaths
Where they once schlepped —veterans who went to
Confront the beasts coming for our souls and blood....
I plod on to the place of the throbs,
Accompanied by flickering lights.
But on getting there, the smell of abandonment
Creases my ribs and furrows my brows.
The emptiness, the absence of man and beast
Run my wandering feet cold
I felt lost — like a lone, withered grain in a deep,
Battered straw sack with tiny, lonesome holes.
Itches depress my glabella.
I come late with the issue of remembrances.
Something must be wrong with the night, the illusion,
The world, the fantasies...
Something must be wrong with me.
This orgy of wondering!
The night sleeps on with retired quietude, plenitude.
I retire as well, my bamboo bed squeaking with the
Deliberate noise of the fluttering tongue of flame on
The wick of my oil lamp.
Each cup of silence I drank took me back the way I came —
The tenuous, lonesome, hilly, jagged route I had schlepped,
Drunk with the orgy of the wilful drums and the elated flutes.
My journey was meaningless —like a generation that hardly heard of
Michelangelo, let alone Bernini.
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.”
A song came on the jukebox and we listened with intent
He sang "Only The Lonely" with a voice that was heaven sent
I was only in eighth grade, a few years from being a man
There was "Blue Angel" and "I'm Hurtin' " and I became a die hard fan
We'd go downtown to the Coffee Cup to hang out and have some fun
Play some music and have a soda, "Running Scared" was number one
"Crying" is still a favorite, played "Candy Man" and "Dream Baby" so loud
I was mesmerized the first time I heard Roy Orbison sing "The Crowd"
There was "Evergreen", Working For The Man" and "Leah" in the year of 62
"In Dreams" , "Falling" , "Distant Drums" and I still love "Blue Bayou"
Roy rocked the house with "Mean Woman Blues"
"What'd I Say" made us put on our dancing shoes
"Indian Summer", "Indian Wedding", "She Wears My Ring"
"Oh Pretty Woman", "It's Over", "Goodnight" Roy would sing
When Roy sang "Lana" it would tear you apart
Don't forget "Breakin' Up is Breakin' My Heart"
When Roy sang, you didn't know which song to choose
He'd make you rock, make you cry, make you feel the blues
When Roy sang, he'd put a smile on your face
When Roy sang, the world seemed a better place.
Tribute to the greatest, bar none, singer song writer of all time.
In times of old I’ve heard it said,
That all roads led to Rome.
Now like the beating of distant drums,
Our hearts are leading us home.
It’s not the things that we possess,
That reveal what we deeply desire.
It’s a longing for peace and serenity,
To which our spirit doth aspire.
Returning to the source of our creation,
Giving up this existence in form.
To be in a state of eternal Love,
Where the Source of creation will calm every storm.
With ego we created this deceptive illusion,
Hiding our authentic self from all.
Unbeknownst to us, our truest self,
Has been answering destiny’s call.
For all the answers to all the questions,
In their time will miraculously appear.
When we’re at that place where there’s no time,
Where all thoughts are perfectly clear.
I write your name in the sand at twilight
only to watch the tide wash it away
to leave nothing but memories of love's illusion
when time was endless
and love felt perfect and permanent
Before the mist in our eyes became parched
drying out in silence
as our heartbeats sounded like distant drums
from echoes of what was
When sunsets were shared in reverence
with hands quietly held in comfort
Yet...Sunsets fall
allowing the night to cover our farewell
where we gathered the sadness of failure
from two hearts, parting
Knowing love was found beautiful, even if briefly
and was lived with a deep breath of passion
to be relived
in my solemn twilights of tomorrow
Where my memories flow like rivers
in the internal sacred spaces of my soul
As I write your name in the sand