Long Eye witness Poems
Long Eye witness Poems. Below are the most popular long Eye witness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Eye witness poems by poem length and keyword.
I have always been curious about people from Kurdistan
I wonder why they are called kurds
I wonder when the kurds would become keese
Just like curd becomes cheese
I wonder if birds are called “birds” because they come from “Birdistan”…..
Okay, that kurd-bird joke one time never went down well
One audience I entertained transitioned from swelling to swearing
The agitated audience looked at each other, left and right
The bird joke got me pelted and unhired, now I'm a fly-by-night comic
The joke was inspired by a 12 year kid I once knew, nicknamed “Talk shop”
He used to hang around the market stands and chatted nonstop
The lad knew almost all of the countries with syllables ending with “–stan”
He bragged about Kazakhstan, Tajikstan, Uzbekistan, with the “stans” he was never done
The smart-****’s Turkistan questions hit me like a slap
Unrelentingly he tested me to spot Manhattan on the map
I totally lost my geography to the kids embarrassing pressure
The kid burst into a belly laugh when my finger hovered over Asia
In trying to change the subject, I asked him about the story of Tristan
I was zipped into silence when he told me stick to geography and not romance
I asked the kid what his real name was, and how he got an extra memory chip
He said if he taught me how, the conversation would flip
And then he revealed what his real name was with a “My name is Stan, duh!”
A felt relieved, as adult dumbness left my shoulder
I bet you would know every country and its geographical location
If it was made up of some weird syllables sneaking up on your name
The cocky kid asked me to test him on anything
I went spiritual, a subject the kid probably had no grip on
I asked him why we confess to a priest, if God can directly hear us pray
He said “so that we can have an eye witness on judgment day”
I tried to get rid of the boy by pretending to be bored
But I let the boy stay, when he told me that I would miss him one day when I get old
“Just as these grains of sand can never be separated and poured again into their individual containers, so will your marriage be." Unknown
**************************************************************
Sand Promises
In a shrine amidst relatives and friends
We pour sands in a silver plate of our dreams
Making promises to be as one man,
Whether in wintry gales or summer beams.
As the coloured sands blend and are entwined,
We promise, with the fire as eye witness,
To pursue our life`s journey with one mind
And reach our shared destiny in finesse.
It`s a promise to build our home of love
On the rocks of trust with the sands of hope
And the flame of faith flaring from above
To guide our path when treading a tightrope.
Two folks with our souls blended and entwined
We`re now geared up in life`s journey to shine.
Insanity was at its peak again
Humanity degraded. . . debased
Lives of fellow beings became toys
They massacred thousands
For the Holy war
They smouldered while laughing
Matchetes and cultlass were freely used
Heads roll on the street
Part of body littered major road, even in Major street6
They are fighting for Allah
Whose commandment is for all to love one another
Who are they then fighting for?
Are these men not really insane?
Insanity runs down their veins
Ignorance gush through their blood
Wickedness reigns in thier heart
Men that are not fit for our society
Must we wait again
For another display of insanity?
We must stop it now.
Alayande Stephen T.
12.32am
12/10/2008
An account of brutal massacre occasioned
By unbridled religion intolerance in
Kaduna State, Nigeria in 2002 during the aborted
Miss World Beauty Contest in Nigeria as
Narrated by an eye witness Latifat of UNILORIN.
Eye witness sees
Pulse of dawn;
Stillness grooms
~~~~~~~~~
Leaking faucet
Drop by drop;
Prayer beat chant
~~~~~~~~~
Noise below
Skyscraper view;
Insects crawling
~~~~~~~~~
Dry evening breeze
Noisy crickets;
March romance
~~~~~~~~~
ATM bank queue
Mötley bunch;
Cash withdrawals
~~~~~~~~~
Home movies
Two in a row;
Siesta beckons
~~~~~~~~~
News from overseas
Message in electrons;
Homesick blues
~~~~~~~~~
Brisk walking jog
Morning meditation;
Lethargy drains
~~~~~~~~~
Chinese bread buns
Savoury fare;
Treat for two
~~~~~~~~~
Diet plan dinner
Fibre fruit blend;
Baby food texture
~~~~~~~~~
Mirror image
Old soul peeping;
Facial recognition
~~~~~~~~~
Face to face
Old friends meet;
Is it 25 years ago?
~~~~~~~~~
Catechism class
Religious politics;
Good versus Evil
~~~~~~~~~
Jesus speaks
Eye witness hears;
Life is hard
~~~~~~~~~
Hungry souls
Instant salvation;
Food court gourmet
~~~~~~~~~
Newspaper highlights
Bad news again;
Catastrophe strikes
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
09 March 2015
Singapore
Had a plunderer I, nay thither I thus,
how much life is wasted off as if fairly,
pace upon pace once more pace upon pace never odds,
this occasions a bliss is hither, a bliss is folly,
how I hope to have striven more,
how thus air, how fun and fair,
how lovely is dream to dream and dream this wave.
What these things serve a contemporary horizon?,
what rises? and what is stir hither?,
no, like wind it is yet known nor enlightened anon,
all jobs done let like mirrages flown thither,
what a service of immemorial poise?,
what an irony of a sort freedom?, what a dream?,
I spend, I am an eye witness thus those.
Now, it matters for it matters counts,
tis necessary, supposing it is thus,
to meet the limit of the normal airs,
still it is how to govern a life of surfs,
how it is right to fill room with hope,
a gift of this wave and thus a gift of a wave,
once more there is compromise.
In my lifetime,
I have observed and
witnessed some evil things.
Many were news reports, but
some were eye-witness melees.
One notable travesty was the
implementation of 'A Clearing'.
It was called ethnic cleansing,
but there was absolutely nothing
cleansing about slaughterous murder.
Like so much garbage, being cleared
from our living quarters; one people
claiming to be purer than another.
How despicable of us mortals created
in the image of an awesome and loving God
who through His son said, "There is none good;
no, not one". Clear the air we breathe of poisonous
toxins if you will. Clear the rivers and waterways
of debris and waste. But be very clear about this:
There are multitudes of undesirable things and myriads
of non-mortal despicables in need of mass clearings.
But the clearing out of people by any means deemed
less than another is not one of them. Ethnic cleansing
is mass suicide. Let us love, cherish, and care for one
another and leave human clearings and cleansings to God.
021023PSCtest, 'The Clearing'. Craig Cornish
A nice veneer
Looking solid and good;
Termites devour within
Life hazards
Venture bleeding;
More vitamin M needed
Business failure
Shocking casualties;
Bankrupted parties
Spice can smell nice
But nice can tell lies;
Sometimes a vice
Impressive bungalow
Sporty car;
Heavy in debt woes
Sad but true
Vanity masquerades;
Not the real thing
Newspaper headlines
Scandal and heartbreak;
I feel sad for you
Regrets fester
Like gangrene;
Amputate the trash
Eye witness here
I watch you tumble;
Helpless to help
Impressive life
Career highlights unrivaled;
Why this bankruptcy?
Sad story
Paper described;
Can prayer alleviate?
In-between
Life and death;
Struggle for meaning
Worldly mindset
Get rich quick;
Scheming for more
Between ambition
And acquisition;
Avarice styles
To succeed well
Take failures well;
Survive persecution
Liquor and wine
Wine and dine;
Decadence flaunts
Simple vanity
Defines ambition;
Practical notions heap
And in the end
Just round the bend;
Broken trends sweep clean
Leon Enriquez
26 July 2014
Singapore
Her life is a circus
Making a clown of herself
Lacks substantial purpose
Balance and health
One rope to another
Rocking her balance beam
The circus is her lover
Together they scream
Blackened tears
Lips a horrid maroon
Juggling fears
Her life, a cartoon
Such an imagination
Seeing what doesn't exist
An awkward conversation
No partner to assist
Suddenly a spider
Her safety net, a web
She grabs a fly to ride her
Lands in a pool of red
People gather around
Curious to see
Her body on the ground
Her final act, a mockery
Her 5 minutes of fame
Detours and yellow tape
Chalk outlines the frame
Of what she couldn't escape
An eye witness chimed in
Giddy and camera ready
He saw her on the end
Trembling and unsteady
Intently, he watched
Gravity run it's course
It didn't appear botched
Invisible was the source
Following her brief report
They aired the walking dead
Her existence fell short
Not one viral thread
(A poem dedicated to Khadiza Merry)
They all heard that,
Jesus is riding on a bus, these days.
Vinay from the remotest eastern village was an eye-witness
He just acknowledged today, in confirmation.
I was counting those quarters. One by one.
The unpaid dues for the neighborhood store...
When silence honors every single voice out there
One can be a meaningful one for afterlife, with a storekeeper.
And slowly,
I sustained.
I was tamed within
With those hot, warm sweaty humid minutes.
And I gifted a land of own, aged for long, to the storekeeper.
Will it be an identifiable generosity accompanied with the right hand?
A specially biased right hand?
There are need of mirrors, here and there.
These attires, dress etiquette and dress colors too...
Under the slender palm trees, the virgin Mary cries here, also
Somewhere, a frozen conversation dies in silence, with a noisy air-cooler.
My DNA was planted at a crime scene
in an apartment that I truthfully have never been.
My fingerprints were found on the murder weapon,
a Bowie knife that was a gift from a long lost friend.
Buried in storage for decades is where that knife had been.
Until now, for me that Bowie knife was long forgotten.
I don't know nor have I ever known the victim
or any of the victim's past or present relations.
I'm now the prime suspect in this investigation
and I don't have a very good alibi to give them.
"Where were you at the time this murder happened?"
the detective asked me during my interrigation.
"I was at home alone," I answered, "as I often am."
The detective then asked me the following question,
"Can your presence at that time be substantiated by anyone?"
"None that I can think of presently," I responded feeling broken.
I was read my Miranda rights and I'm now in the system,
but I swear, I've been framed. I Am Innocent."
*
The above hasn't really happened to me,
but one day it did occur to me
that due to my lifestyle which I live very solitary,
that I could be a sociopath's perfect patsie,
since very few ever eye witness that I truly may be
at my home all alone with just my cats for company,
and my felines can't attest to my presence unfortunately.
*