Long Est Poems
Long Est Poems. Below are the most popular long Est by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Est poems by poem length and keyword.
Regardless of our faith, in Love we can believe,
For Love's within us all, if we choose to retrieve.
Should we choose to leave Love in a dormant state,
Then we invite into our heart the bitterness of hate.
Those who believe in the power of Love,
Radiate and spread around all the beauty of.
Those who deny Love to flourish within their heart,
Spread misery around, since it's all they can impart.
We have all been blessed with the greatest Gift,
Though some choose to away from Love, drift.
The presence of Love or not is always crystal clear
In how we treat others; how others we revere.
Love is not selfish, cruel, apathetic, unforgiving;
Does not embrace greed or a miserable way of living.
Instead, Love is selfless, compassionate, and kind,
With consideration for others a natural state of mind.
Love is not ego serving, boastful and bragging;
Doesn't tune out a guilty conscience nagging.
Instead, Love is humble, modest, and reserved;
Accountable and accepting of what's deserved.
Love is not jealous, envious, resentful, or bitter;
Nor shallow, spineless, a flip-flopping fence sitter.
Instead, Love cultivates virtue, values, and integrity,
Making real in oneself a comfortable place to be.
When, our Gift Of Love, we cultivate with care,
We then reap to scatter Love seeds everywhere,
Always hoping they'll take root in another's garden bed,
Where there's being tilled the opposite of Love, instead.
When in our hearts we grow Love, we never have to feel
Afraid that another will come along and from us, steal
What we are growing and therefore, in possession of,
Because all they can take from us is some of our Love.
Once in the thief's possession, Love can only grow,
Infiltrate and change the current seeds they sow.
So, when we give the Gift Of Love and without request,
We can know in our heart we have given the very best.
In this day and age of money taking precedence,
Love is still free to receive and to dispense.
Love cannot be bought nor can Love be sold,
Making the Gift Of Love untouchable by gold.
We need not save our Love for special times and places,
Just for special occasions and to gladden special faces,
For the magic of Love is released every time we give
And multiplies within us when the Gift Of Love we LIVE!
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2017-12-24 16:52:00 (EST)
All rights reserved.
Martial Translations
Coq au vin (Cook or wine)
by Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but are you merely an éclair to the greedy?
2.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but are you tart Amaro to the greedy?
Amaro is an after-dinner liqueur thought to aid the digestion after a large meal.
3.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but are you an aperitif to the greedy?
4.
Hosts always invite you to dinner, Phoebe,
but they’re pimps to the seedy.
Ad cenam invitant omnes te, Phoebe, cinaedi.
mentula quem pascit, non, puto, purus *****est.
You ask me why I love fresh country air?
You're not befouling it, mon frère.
—Martial, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
You’ll find good poems, but mostly poor and worse,
my peers being “diverse” in their verse.
2.
Some good poems here, but most not worth a curse:
such is the crapshoot of a book of verse.
Sunt bona, sunt quaedam mediocria, sunt mala plura
quae legis hic: aliter non fit, Auite, liber.
He undertook to be a doctor
but turned out to be an undertaker.
Chirurgus fuerat, nunc est uispillo Diaulus:
coepit quo poterat clinicus esse modo.
1.
The book you recite from, Fidentinus, was my own,
till your butchering made it yours alone.
2.
The book you recite from I once called my own,
but you read it so badly, it’s now yours alone.
3.
You read my book as if you wrote it,
but you read it so badly I’ve come to hate it.
Quem recitas meus est, o Fidentine, libellus:
sed male cum recitas, incipit esse tuus.
Recite my epigrams? I decline,
for then they’d be yours, not mine.
Ut recitem tibi nostra rogas epigrammata. Nolo:
non audire, Celer, sed recitare cupis.
I do not love you, but cannot say why.
I do not love you: no reason, no lie.
Non amo te, Sabidi, nec possum dicere quare:
hoc tantum possum dicere, non amo te.
You’re young and lovely, wealthy too,
but that changes nothing: you’re a shrew.
Bella es, nouimus, et puella, uerum est,
et diues, quis enim potest negare?
Sed cum te nimium, Fabulla, laudas,
nec diues neque bella nec puella es.
Keywords/Tags: Martial, Latin, translation, epigram, hosts, dinner, meal, food, drink, wine, addiction, house, host, dessert
World all praise, everybody praise...
Man worship the true and only Father
Mankind open up,
And out of your mouths
Comes language only the Farther knows
Alleluia
and out of your mouths
Let the rejoicings start
Say..Alleluia
Sing..Praise Hallelujah
SPANISH VERSE...
Mundo todo elogio
El hombre adora al verdadero y unico Padre...
La humanidad se abre
Y de tu boca
Que comience la alegria
Di...Hallehuia
Canta...Alabanza Hallehuia
El mas alto
El mayor elogio
Hay..es HALLEHUIA
Say..Alleluia
Sing..Praise Hallelujah,Hallelujah
SWAHILI VERSE...
Dunia yote sifa
Mtu anaabudu Baba wa kewli na peke yake...
Wanadamu wanafungua
Na kutoka kinywani mwako
Hebu kufurahi kuanza
Sema..Aleluia
Imba.. Sifa Halleluya
Ya juu zaidi
PRAISE kubwa
Kuna..ni Halleluya
FILIPINO VERSE...
Buong mundo ang papauri
Sinasamba ng teo ang tunay at tanging Ama...
Bukas ang sangkatauhan
At mula sa iyong mga bibig
Hayaang magsimula ang pagsasaya
Say..Alleluia
Pinakamataas
Ang pinakadakilang PRAISE
Mayroong ay Halleluiah
Alleluia
FRENCH VERSE...
Monde tous les eloges
L'humanite s'ouvre
Et hors de ta bouche
Que la joie commence
Say...Alleluia
Chantez..Louange Alleluia
Le plus haut
La plus grange louang
II y a..est Alleluia
NEPALI VERSE
Visva sabai prasansa
manisa samco ra matra pitako upasana gardacha...
Manisajati khula cha
ra timro mukhabata bahira
rama'ilo suru garaum
bhannuhos..Lambiya
gaum..Prasansa hilaliuaha
uccatama
sabaibhanda thulo premi
tyaham cha.. Hilaleiaha ho
Let the rejoicings start
Say..Alleluia
Sing..Praise Hallelujah
SUNDANESE VERSE
Dunya sadaya puhian
Lalakai nyembah ka Bapa leres sareng wungkul...
Umat manusa buka nepi
Tur kaluar tina mouths Anjeun
Anggap rejoicing dimimitian
Say.. Alleluia
Nyanyi..Puji Halleluiah
Pangluhurna
Panggen mikahoyong pannggedena
Aya..neyaeta Halleluiah
...
~Just a few languages I've been around in the last two decades
from my former job...
All I know now is that in any language
Halleluiah is Halleluiah nyaeta Halleluiah is Halleluiah ay Halleluiah Alleluia est Alleluia Hallelujah hai Hallelujah Halleluya ni Halleluya Halleluiah is Halleluiah
In any language is ALL languages the highest praise is
Halleluiah
6/10/19
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
from anthology "INTERMITTENT PRAISE"
Où allons nous? Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s “Where are we going” by T. Wignesan
Ils sont venus dans une petite ville
Une bande à moitié nue soumise silencieuse
Tout ce qui restait de leur tribu.
Ils sont venus à leur vieux territoire bora
Où beaucoup d’hommes blancs maintenant vont et viennent
comme des fourmis.
La pancarte de l’agent immobilier dit: “Il est permis de jeter
des ordures ici.”
Maintenant les ordures couvrent plus que la moitié du cercle
de bora.
“Nous sommes maintenant comme des étrangers, mais la
tribu blanche est en réalité des étrangers.
La terre nous appartient, sommes nous les héritiers des
vieilles coutumes.
Nous sommes la corroboree* et la terre bora.
Nous sommes de vieux rites, les lois de nos aïeux.
Nous sommes des contes des émerveilles du Temps de Rêves,
des légendes racontées de tribus.
Nous sommes le passé, les chasses et les jeux qui nous font rire, les feux allumés autour de nos campements ici et là.
Nous sommes des éclairs sur la Colline Graphemba
Eclatants et effrayants,
Et le Tonnerre venant après lui, ce gars bruyant.
Nous sommes le lever du soleil silencieux
Illuminant pas à pas la lagune enterrée par la nuit.
Nous sommes des ombres-épouvantes revenant
subrepticement aux feux de campement qui
s’éteignent doucement.
Nous sommes la Nature et le Passé, tout ce qui comporte nos
vieilles traditions
Maintenant en train de disparaître ici et là.
Les broussailles sont détruites, ainsi la chasse et la
rire.
L’aigle, lui, est déjà parti, l’émeu et le kangourou ont aussi quitté les lieux.
Le cercle du bora a disparu.
La corroborée a disparue.
Et nous sommes en train de disparaître.
*An Australian Aboriginal dance ceremony which may take the form of a sacred ritual or an informal gathering. 'Aborigines living in the coastal Kimberley region of Australia's top end sometimes dance a corroboree re-enacting the arrival of dingoes to Australia. (Oxford English Dictionary)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Today was the day Dragon’s brother Joey graduated from Nursing School.
And yes, Dragon wanted to be there, it was, really, going to be Sooo Cool!
Parents and students gussied up in all their finery, a sight truly to behold.
The University never, truly, looked better, as future dreams began to unfold.
And Joey gave Dragon, the best-est thing ever, his very own, special invite.
Now, we all know how things go amok, when Dragon is allowed on the site.
Every-thing was truly prepared, or so they thought, as Dragon sallied forth.
His own fire retardant Cap, Gown, and tassel to be immortalized, henceforth.
He was a part of the ceremony, to light their candles, in a symbolic gesture…
Before to the world, they, go forth, Why Dragon? Cause he’s such a treasure.
Yes, He’d receive an Honorary Degree, for all the lives, from fires, he’d saved.
Grandpa Troll was on the College Board of Directors, we were all amazed!
Apparently, Grandpa Troll had donated, a burn ward to the local Hospital…
Where our son Joey, would work, jump-starting his career, just a wee, little.
All the people Dragon had saved from fires, would be there to sing their praise.
As Joey wanted to dedicate his Nursing Career to burn patients, all his days.
It’s amazing how lives change, when strangers, are first allowed, into our lives.
And the Carpenter Trolls signed up for College, Architecture, was their drive.
Such determination, from a little Dragon egg, that was brought into our lives.
It brought so much purpose, to so many, when he chose, one morning to arrive.
Dragon roared out his glee and fire, sigh, as a surprise degree, was given to him!
All agreed no one needed the curtains, podium, or stage, as all sang, their hymn!
Hundreds of ready fire extinguishers, came into view, a new tradition was formed.
3 new degrees, came to the College curriculum, as thankfully, no one was harmed.
What three new degrees were added, you ask? Fire fighting, Burn Units Nursing,
Plus a Psychology Degree of “what change can do for your lives, if you let it in”.
Yeah, we’re all nuts! But very innovative, as our son, suggested, the new degrees.
Then he and Dragon led the hat toss, before leading all, out the door, to be free…
Written celebrating Joeys Nursing College Graduation. 5-15-2016
For Contest: Not written for any contest... Contest
I desperately wanted to come back
And you surreptitiously checked out of my life
I no longer have a friend, confidant, lover and wife
Indeed, I’m out of luck
Thank God the firmament remains blue
The clouds are traipsing left and right
The birds are enjoying the slow flight
And my pain is fresh and new
Yet I’m a survivor
Indeed a valiant fighter
I resign myself to suffering for a while
I’m found guilty and sentenced
Without a fair and just trial
I realize that love makes no sense
You can laugh, giggle, jump and dance
I’m now hurt, out of luck, mute and unbalanced.
Copyright © July 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
Pas De Chance
Je voulais désespérément revenir
Mais tu as discrètement quitté ma vie
Je n'ai plus de femme, d’amante, de confidente, et d’amie
En effet, j’ai vu ma chance s’évanouir
Dieu merci, le firmament reste bleu, pas trop moche
Les nuages se déplacent à droite et à gauche
Les oiseaux de branches en branches s’envolent
Et ma douleur est fraîche et nouvelle
Pourtant je suis un survivant
En effet un vaillant combattant
Je me résigne à souffrir pour ce moment
Je suis reconnu coupable et condamné
Sans un procès équitable et approprié
Je réalise que l'amour est insensé
Tu peux rire, sauter, piaffer et danser
Et moi blessé, malchanceux, muet et déséquilibré.
Copyright © Juillet 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l'auteur de plusieurs recueils de poésie.
Sin Suerte
Yo deseaba desesperadamente volver
Y tú silenciosamente dejaste mi vida
Ya no tengo esposa, amante, confidente o amiga
De hecho, vi mi suerte desaparecer
Gracias a Dios el cielo sigue siendo azul, no demasiado feo
Las nubes se mueven a derecha e izquierda
Los pájaros vuelan de rama en rama
Y mi dolor es fresco y nuevo
Sin embargo, soy un sobreviviente
De hecho, un luchador valiente
Me resigno a sufrir este momento
Soy declarado culpable y sentenciado
Sin un juicio justo y adecuado
Me doy cuenta de que el amor no tiene sentido
Puedes reír, saltar, patear y bailar.
Y yo dolido, desafortunado, mudo y desequilibrado.
Copyright © Julio de 2024, Hébert Logerie, Todos los derechos reservados.
Hébert Logerie es autor de varias colecciones de poesía.
FOREVER ADELINE
Acknowledgement:
A big thank you Sam Scott from our Poetry Soup Community,
for your splendid narrative contribution.
Synopsis:
A story of unrequited love that began in childhood.
Despite the passage of time, his love remained hauntingly
painful even after she fell in love with another.
Aloft on wings of rhapsody, together spirits soar
Wild, untamed and sensuous, just like a lion's roar.
HOW LONG AGO IT SEEMS THE TWO OF YOU FIRST MET
AS TIME IS RENDERED MEANINGLESS
OR TIMELESS, BETTER YET
Though in that Timeless moment, along came winds of change
Love swiftly rearranged, but what it WAS, remained
Oh, Adeline, so fair and bright,
Eyes, like stars, shine with delight,
Oh fickle heart, now you await
your new love's sweet embrace
Blinded by the callous cad, you foolishly don't resist
In the quench of love's allure, Time does not exist
His loving lips will not reveal your new love's promiscuous charms
Intoxicated, unrepentantly, he sways to others' wanton arms.
Across the bronze Sienna shores and blissful sea breeze skies,
He ever trails your hungry heart through
his own saddened eyes.
Oh, Adeline in Twilight's Hush,
where shadows dance and play,
A tale of love and longing
When Night succumbs to Day
Oh, Adeline, will it be
mere friendship, he would fain?
To be just a deliverer of love notes,
a job he will disdain
Oh, Adeline ~ Sweet Adeline
At every glance - a secret shared,
his every word - love unsaid,
In every touch - a fire dared
HOW LONG AGO IT SEEMS ~ THE TWO OF YOU FIRST MET
AS TIME IS RENDERED MEANINGLESS
OR TIMELESS, BETTER YET
Chansons ne sont que chansons
Quand on écrit de l'amour
Comment d'écrire des chansons
De la femme qui est l'amour?
English translation from above:
Songs are just songs
When we write about love
How do you write songs
Of the woman who is Love?
OH, ADELINE ~ SWEET ADELINE
by Maria Williams ©
Background garden images taken on our recent visit to the amazing
Hunter Valley Gardens, Sydney, Australia
Musicians
Harp - Rolando Cristaldo
Violins: Fátima Benítez
Celeste Osorio
Translation of Eric Mottram’s A Faithful Private - 3 Dolores Huerta by T. Wignesan
3. Dolores Huerta
aucun coq n’y annonce la reveille:
les étudiants et les dirigeants des travailleurs
font partie du piquet de grève contre les Wine Brothers:
les bourrasques collent contre les pancartes de grève
les jeans trempés les bleues de travail réfléchissant:
à Los Altos ils chantent des chansons de grève
à l’honneur de Chavez et de Dolores
dans un camion emménagé en un lit plat:
les enfants et les pères qui portent des enfants
la famille la United Fruit Workers
tout l’été sur les lignes de piquet de grève
dans des prisons des maisons et les meubles
vendus pour d’hivers vêtements voitures
les essentiels pour le travail au delà
de ce mois d’août au-delà d’épreuves:
deux hommes tués à Arvin
Nagi Daifullah tué
par la lampe électrique d’un chérif
Juan de la Cruz fusillé sur le piquet de grève
Dolores Huerta la vice-présidente
stratège négociatrice
ses dix enfants prises en charge sécurisés
sa grace
son rire par concentration
prends soins de sa santé
pour sa fille afin d’être saine
contre l’avarice
contre la charité des libéraux:
le machisme gagne maintenant les femmes
le non-violence provenant des femmes et enfants
leurs bras meurtris par les planches des Teamsters
les yeux de la police cernés par le plaisir
caressent leurs étuis de revolvers:
à la maison pas de conflits
l’homme est le chef:
une famille soudée par le respect
quant au machisme des hommes toujours
la vieille religion:
le mariage dissout détruit le Syndicat
des badges d’officiers des cultivateurs brillent
au lever du soleil les .22s en défense-propres:
“nous étions si heureuses, en paix et jolies
même les grand-mères jusqu’à
ce qu’ils commence à tirer avec leurs fusils”:
Reagan fut photographié
en train de manger des raisins scab:
les troupes de Vietnam
mangent des laitues du gouvernement provenant des champs de l'entreprise
les trottoirs lézardés
stroes en délabrement: bousculent
dans les campements de l'entreprise
des terminus plein de poussière placés sous surveillance:
les travailleurs de Brothers dispersent
surveillés par des brigades en voiture
“you find a way
it gets easier
all the time”
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Unorthodox nonestablismentarian epitome
Describes celibate bent aegis.
Mein kampf illustrates gravitas.
Underdog muted lest intimidation
think bully brandishing fist in my face
threatening to buzzfeed me
a brassy knuckle sandwich.
While breezily reading Judy Bloom,
(whose material geared
toward young adult)
book titled Blubber - published in 1974,
(which year found yours truly - me
undergoing amazing transition
classified as puberty)
bemoaned childhood's end - id est mine
interestingly enough romanticized boyhood
livingsocial within Lake Woebegone
(way before Garrison Keillor
named said fictitious town),
purely swiftly tailored
harried styled fabrication,
although that first decade
found torturous growing up years
more so courtesy
self exclusion from reindeer games,
thus during lunch or recess
(two most favorite classes)
bullies turned me into minced meat
taunted and teased
a severely socially withdrawn boy,
who never shared emotional agony,
he internalized verbal slings and arrows
eventually physically succumbed
from brickbats indiscriminately
lobbed at painfully shy
once upon a time happy go lucky lad,
(with a button nose),
when he whiled away days of his life
as the world turned
first at Lantern Lane
for about a half dozen plus years,
then at 324 Level Road
for approximately
one third of present existence
unbeknownst to him
that psychologically dark shadows
lurked within the outer limits
of the twilight zone
haunting corporeal essence
attached to those lovely bones,
now saddled with excess adipose tissue,
especially around belly of the beast
housing hunger artist
starving for knowledge,
and peopling his overactive imagination
with exemplary protagonists
blithely thwarting incendiary threats,
cuz of natural born defense against
gunning character assassination
courtesy fearsome imbeciles
hell bent on nasty, short and brutish fiends,
who did their collective bidding
vis-à-vis cut throat leviathan,
who overshadowed and locked in
propensity to live free and clear
analogous to unfettered noble savage
cannibalizing yours truly (me) as fancy feast.
Soul asylum salvation sought
as if survivor of mental health challenges
akin to foreigner trying
to sidestep gingerly self annihilation.
In the eye of the hurricane, Translation of Carlos Bousono’s poem : En el ojo del hurracan
(Ninth in the collection : Metafora del Desafuero, published – according to the editor, Alejandro
Duque Amusco – not in 1988, but in 1989, was awarded the « Premio Nacional de Poésia »
for 1989, on May 28, 1990. Bousono, as in these later free verse compositions, shows how
well he manages the long-breathed line, a clear contrast to the compact and elliptical earlier
verse, say, of the collection : Subida al amor. T. Wignesan)
The creatures of plenitude situated themselves holding their silence, the thrones of
inexplicability, exactly, therefore, in the very centre of the eye of the hurricane :
that doors be blown asunder, that windows be blown away,
that agonizing bodies in makeshift beds be smothered into oblivion,
half-dead widows, postmen who half-way in the act of delivering
the love letter which would definitely render us joyful,
the seat where the poor old grandmother was in the act of sitting
while sewing
the newly-born baby’s pony-tailed bonnet which turned around half-
way in the gusts,
the hurricane which uplifted love and all that was left of love :
letters, papers, leaves
of music,
lovers in coitus at the orgiastic acmé and the light,
when it began to dawn,
when the saxophone cleared its throat and commenced the beat of the
dance,
when everything on the stage in its place awaited the raising of the
curtain,
when the wedding was at the point of being consecrated, and the
priest was ready to offer his benediction : « el ite misa est »,
when within the following few moments the inexorable
ceremonial of the written formalities was about to be concluded
then, as I said,
and only then,
the hurricane unleashed its violence with rage, the incomprehensible
hurricane, and there stood still only the immoveable lucid eye,
separate, eminent, complete in its entire being, that by force of its
profundity had ascended to the exact point where it could
redeem its guilt,
the eye of reconciliation,
the eye of wisdom and suave serenity,
where the intact and silenced world sang
adorable and yet so beautiful without us,
necessary pretexts, notwithstanding, of its musical nature.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013