Long Egyptian Poems
Long Egyptian Poems. Below are the most popular long Egyptian by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Egyptian poems by poem length and keyword.
Once I was thinking of building a shopping plaza, just along the Gaza strip
But those Israeli's being what they are I thought my sales could take a dip
So, I thought I'd build a set of tunnels, starting from just beneath my feet
The guy from Hamas came and thought my tunnel plans looked quite neat
I employed a load of freeloading Egyptian labourers I got 'em on the cheap
I paid ‘em with unwanted skull caps and a load of knocked off kosher meat
We built a cafe' serving up falafel and played loud music to cover up the din
And, it must have worked as the locals never seemed to have heard a thing
Took us over 3 months to reach the darn Israelis wall of concrete and steel
Damn; if they were not waiting for us, shouting, are you lot for flippin’ real
They sent all of us back to Gaza; with a rocket launcher up everyone's ass
Shouting; you ain't getting in here sunshine’s, not without a flaming’ pass
The Egyptians were not very happy, but hey that's not so unusual for them
Thinking of employing us to build another tunnel, well, you can think again
We then all arrived back at the Syed café; just to find, it had shut up sharp
Apparently; there had been a 100% sale on down at the bazaar super mart
The Egyptians; looking a ghostly white from months of working in the dust
Suddenly disappeared; they had all absconded outta here, on the local bus
Sitting on a dusty chair down at the Syed cafe; I watched as Gaza did burn
While totting up the jukebox to the sounds of, The House of the Rising Sun
O' a Palestinians’ lot, is not a happy lot, of this, you can be more than sure
Just ask anyone from Farah to Beit Hanoun, they all know the bloody score
The guy from Hamas reappeared, saying those tunnel plans looked quite neat
Have a thousand unwanted skull caps, and a load of knocked off kosher meat
Well, the Palestinians’ lot, is not a happy lot, but in the end we will not be beat
So I opened a local vendor stall, just a stone's throw at the bottom of my street
Selling a thousand unwanted skull caps and a load of knocked off kosher meat
Lulling the days when a guy from Hamas thought my tunnel plans looked neat
You are telling them to leave to go wandering in the street; you are telling them to leave when there's nothing in the pantry to eat. Their ancestors have journeyed across the red sea when the pharaoh pronounced the annihilation decree, they had one choice to live or die or survive from manner falling from the sky.
They finally decide to go when the pharaoh wrath sunk into the ground and the middle man lost his crown. He could not bear to see them go so he came right in the middle of the show and snatch the people away.
The heavens would not have it so and smoke came billowing from the skies and destiny watches from the hill and signal to them to keep still.
Freedom came at a price and they had to make some bloody sacrifice. They came out of Egypt with whips across their backs and cross the red sea with a miracle from thee. The signal was strong and the message was pure when the journey got rough mercy come knocking at their door.
You are telling me to leave when supplies are low and there are no resources to complete the show, it has been like this for many years, there were no resources to spare, I have to pick up sticks and use waste paper to get the message in the air.
You are telling me to leave when there is only one way in and one way out. We can’t go to the east or we will fall right back into sea; we can’t go to the west; it is where Montezuma made his conquest.
The north is in the belly of the beast and you will starve to death when the winter is set. It is cold and dry and no moisture is in the eye, the land is destitute and the north steals your valuable youth.
The south will make good company and give you some new money, the Egyptian have everything and they will make you sing.
There is no other way to go but in the hands of your old slave master to rekindle the legacy of King Tuft diligence in an inferno underneath the ground but the journey will take you where destiny is bound.
You tell us to leave to make another journey in the wilderness and no place to take a rest, we will leave by the thousands before missiles come raining down from the sky, you don’t have to worry; the stars will take care of us and the heavens will protect us from the dust.
And so they hit the road with a book and a bag and a bottle of water to wet their throat we are leaving!
I still remember
When I first saw her
Emerging alone
From shadowy gloom
Dark eyes like
embers
Glowing like fires
Behind veils hidden
In tribal costume
Music pulsating
Waist undulating
Arms raising upwards
Trailing gossamer
Hip belts girating
Gold coins cascading
Backwards and
forwards
In silks and amber.
Her bedlah whirling
Under-skirts
swirling
Endlessly teasing
The room full of men
Gracefully twirling
Her veils unfurling
Almost revealing
Then hidden again
(Chorus)
Egyptian dancer
Sultry entrancer
Fanning the fires
Of the men who stay
In want we suffer
Nothing we offer
Will ever stop her
From dancing away
Egyptian goddess
impetuous and pompous
Cleopatra’s conquests
at history’s bequests
wielded a propensity
for dramatic intensity
She snared the great Marc Antony
lured him into salacious surreality
of whirlwind amorous insanity
their thirst for world domination
stirred a most legendary seduction
concocted in the heat of passion
From a cesspool of politics leveraging
exponential cunning and beguiling
struggles in a dance of supremacy
conniving betrayals with godlike fury
their superpower alliance
met all-consuming defiance
Unequaled legendary games fanatical
proving most problematical
honor deceit and lies tragic
loyalties and turmoil climactic
In the end love a destructive factor
with more than one malefactor
hearts hopelessly infatuated
suddenly freed and elated
finally devoid of grief and strife
bound to reunite in afterlife
Read on air by invitation ~ March 20, 2021 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: 2nd place 2021, 3rd place 2021, 3rd place 2020, Honorable Mention 2022, Front Page Pick 2021
This is no time to die
Surely the time has come
Surely the time is near
When God and his angels
Will come out from the things
Of this world we worship asleep
In golden glossy mummy cases
And sweep away the dust of millenniums
Gathered in an old world of sarcophagi
Overturning the worn-out pages of
Death scripts and gross materialism
This is no time to die
Which brings in a new reality
With the force of the archaeologist
Shovelling dirt from the tombs
And launching it out into the wind
Over the Valley of the Kings
Into the wind of a discovered reality
Of joy and blessedness and life
When Joseph, Mary, and baby Jesus, crossed the Egyptian border, he thought they were safe from the danger they had fled from. But almost immediately, twelve gruff men with masks on rushed forward, grabbed him, and demanded to know what he thought he was doing here. Joseph, trying to shield his frightened wife and the crying baby from the gruff men, said he had only been trying to flee the deathly violence in his own country. The twelve gruff men told him that that didn't give him permission to enter Egypt and to go find safety somewhere else in his own country. After they had roughed Joseph up for having had the gall to cross the border unauthorized, they enlisted two knavish ne'er-do-well onlookers and promised them they would be rewarded handsomely if they escort these filthy aliens all the way back to where they had come from.
When they reached Bethlehem after a few days, the ne'er-do-wells made sure to take Joseph, Mary, and baby Jesus all the way back to their house. There, the ne'er-do-wells deposited them with a stern warning never, ever to come back to Egypt. If they dared, their suffering would know no end.
As the ne'er-do-wells departed to go collect their reward, Joseph was beside himself. Bethlehem wasn't safe. They had to flee again, as fast as possible?baby Jesus could not be found here! But the sun had already set, and it wasn’t safe to go out, not with those ne'er-do-wells still so nearby. He’d have to wait till daybreak, then leave. But to where?
Joseph never had to decide. Before the sun arose, soldiers from King Herod's forces rammed his door down, stormed in, grabbed the baby, and killed him in front of his screaming parents’ eyes.
And that, as they say, would’ve changed history.
Don't have a problem with scantily clad ladies
They all have a right to expose their parts
Especially if those parts are firm and voluptuous
Who am I to complain
The Caribbean is overflowing with these Latin beauties
Had to look away... my old heart was a-pumping
A mile a minute and my eyes started bugging out
“Dangerous”, they say... “watch your heart!”
Don't these young fillies realize what they're doing to us old guys
Of course, they do! And they love it!
Do I sound like a lecherous old dude
So what's so wrong with being a lecherous old dude
Some of my best friends fit that description to a “T”
Women's bodies are a work of art
And are designed to be ogled at
It's written on one of those ancient Egyptian tablets
So next time one walks by
Offer your thanks and quietly wipe the drool from your chin
Scantily clad ladies... YEE HAW!
"If I feel physically,
as if the top of my head been taken off,
I know it's poetry."
--Emily Dickenson
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
No money no honey from this honey
You may look but won’t rub this fine tummy;
That maybe so, but I ain’t no dummy
Shining like gold—don’t you touch this Emmy!
Pay gone, drunk, smoky, come acting thuggy,
Don’t treat me like an Egyptian mummy;
You have nerves to tell me I look yummy
Step back—know that I will not be chummy!
Say what, you will find another bunny?
Git, to your saloon playing gin rummy;
Tonight I’m keeping safe my sweet plumy
Leave—before I pull my New York Jimmy!
Swiftly, before doorknob hit your bunny,
Shuggy—I ain’t got time tonight bummy!
© Joseph, November 28, 2008
© All Rights Reserved
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Poetry Soup International Poetry Contest
Semi-finalist Selection, Jan. 2009.
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Poetry Soup Weekly Featured Poem
Sunday, May 24, 2009, to May 31, 2009
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Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
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Floating fluttering fleurs
are jewels in fuchsia and magenta
transmuting into taffy hue
with the kiss of dappled sunlight
like her cheeks that blush in pink
with his wondering wink.
The willows are stalactites
seducing newly bloomed nympheas
slumbering in Egyptian blue water
like her shaggy windswept hair
teasing her beloved's face
beneath the dancing moonlight.
Oh, Monet,
your 'en plein air' emphyrean elegance
awakens my sacrosanct senses
as I envisage a Filbert brush
glazing each pearly petal
highlighting sun's luster
on emerald to lime leaves,
on cyan to admiral water,
reflecting cerulean sky
in consummate chiaroscuro.
7 April 2022
A Briand Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
8th place
Notes:
In 1893, Monet, a passionate horticulturist, purchased land with a pond near his property in Giverny, intending to build something "for the pleasure of the eye and also for motifs to paint." The Water Lilies is a 1919 painting by impressionist Claude Monet, one of his Water Lilies series. The painting, the left hand panel of a large pair, depicts a scene in Monet's French pond showing light reflecting off the water with water lilies on the surface.
(www.metmuseum.org)
*plein-air painting, in its strictest sense, the practice of painting landscape pictures out-of-doors; more loosely, the achievement of an intense impression of the open air (French: plein air) in a landscape painting(www.britannica.com).
Mighty Ra.
Through the sky
Thy benign presence journeys
Unto us thy glory to dole
Thy aureole, a hollowed
Light radiates.
And into our burden
Darkened psyches
It permeates to illuminate
And unto our entirety
Healing to bring.
To thee,in worship
Our knees bend
For none else,but thou
Mighty Ra
Could these deeds wrought.
In glory art thou robed
And in majesty crowned.
Rock of ages, immortal art thou.
Thy hands, mighty art.
For,by them,all things became.
In battle,by them,
Thy raging foes abseiled,
Firm the cosmos stands
And in tranquility remains.
Even the eerie night
With myriads of eyes
That sees not
In battle before thee roared,
But, beneath the anger of
Thy hallowed light it
submerged,
The morn, a tale of
Thy conquest it tells.
And on thy eastern throne
In glory thou,eternally sits.
Mighty Ra.
(Ra is an Egyptian sun god)