Long Fending Poems
Long Fending Poems. Below are the most popular long Fending by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fending poems by poem length and keyword.
Excerpts from "Cordoba"
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Withered Roses
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
What shall I call you,
but the nightingale's desire?
The morning breeze was your nativity,
an afternoon garden, your sepulchre.
My tears welled up like dew,
till in my abandoned heart your rune grew:
this memento of love,
this spray of withered roses.
Ehad-e-Tifli (“The Age of Infancy”)
by Allama Iqbal aka Muhammad Iqbal
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The earth and the heavens remained unknown to me,
My mother's bosom was my only world.
Her embraces communicated life's joys
While I babbled meaningless sounds.
During my infancy if someone alarmed me
The clank of the door chain consoled me.
At night I observed the moon,
Following its flight through distant clouds.
By day I pondered earth’s terrain
Only to be surprised by convenient explanations.
My eyes ingested light, my lips sought speech,
I was curiosity incarnate.
Excerpt from Rumuz-e bikhudi (“The Mysteries of Selflessness”)
by Allama Iqbal aka Muhammad Iqbal
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Like a candle fending off the night,
I consumed myself, melting into tears.
I spent myself, to create more light,
More beauty and joy for my peers.
Longing
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Lord, I’ve grown tired of human assemblies!
I long to avoid conflict! My heart craves peace!
I desperately desire the silence of a small mountainside hut!
Life Advice
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
This passive nature will not allow you to survive;
If you want to live, raise a storm!
Destiny
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Isn't it futile to complain about God's will,
When you are indeed your own destiny?
Keywords/Tags: Urdu, Hindi, translation, English, rose, roses, withered roses, nightingale, desire, breeze, garden, nativity, cradle, infancy, heart, tears, dew, rain, rainfall, longing, conflict, tumult, peace, life, life advice, live, nature, survive, survival, storm, destiny, God, God's will, silence, Iqbal, Urdu, Hindi, death, destiny, chain, life, love, word, God, rose, wine, prophet, music, joy, song, soul
the first day you entered this world
my eyes looked you over
my first thought in mind was who is this child
what kind of live will it lead must i see
be it good or bad you are apart of me
you are open for suggestion but will you take head
i promise protection trust me you'll see
hands off or its de fending i must do cause your life is my
responsibility no other understand our
bond yes its quit different and
unique God gave you to me for
just a little while i must take care of you
the best way i know how its not your father or
another but your mother who is talking to you baby hear my voice
through and through let it be a recording
and voice you'll never forget while on this earth
we'll have a bond a tight and true one that started while
you were in my womb love love love you
baby all your tender bones fingers and toes I see you off to
the first day of school and be there when you graduate from the last
day if you choose don't be a
fool after all that is not what i intended for my little spool
Form:
Marvelous mitzvah "munchkin" minted
Thy eldest daughter Eden Liat
treasured more'n a pearl
(otherwise known as Rapunzel)...
donated cut hair to charity - you go girl,
ha, whereat your fine brunette locks of love
will be repurposed into wigs for kids,
and perhaps even don kepi
of trumpeting Bullwinkle, his Sciuridae
friend named Rocket J. Squirrel,
and/or his nemesis Natasha Fatale.
Kudos to thee savvy
twenty three plus year old offspring
voluntarily unwittingly hood
amazingly gracefully support
exhausting, flagging, grueling...
stricken young spirits and bring
joie de vivre during
treatment and convalescence
of challenging treatment ailing,
perhaps hoop fully nipping
terminal illness in bud
beaten into remission,
whereby family, friends medical staff sing
ode to joy cherishing
nothing short of a blessing.
Said sensible, smart and
stalwart inadvertent mentor,
a splendidly mirthful and mindful lass
yes, tis biased opinion, quite a
truckload of abilities she did amass
even fending bullies who tried to harass
attractive petite proportionate physique
confident smile shown back
courtesy looking glass
and papa cognizant,
how her art of humbleness
helped her succeed as top class
high achiever at Harriton High School,
especially acing rigorous
International Baccalaureate (IB)
(worldwide, nonprofit education program
plus even when just a little girl
attending Belmont Elementary
promise of success,
my feeble accomplishments
"star student" did quickly surpass
with flying colors earned free pass
concomitantly acquiring invisible
magic ring, and carpet made of brass
the latter powered by
Walt Whitman wrought leaves of grass
at University of Pennsylvania
earning stripes as Ivy League graduate
freelance activist while completing
internship linkedin with
University of Southern California.
Spellbound birth father
internally rejoices ta deum,
we knew e'er since Eden Liat
healthy growing fetus within the womb
whip smart progeny
undoubtedly healthy unbridled maturation,
I vicariously exalt storied accomplishments
accrediting and applauding
every iota offspring earned
blood, sweat and tears
created deafening sonic boom,
and where infinitesimal blazing saddle
burned blinding trajectory
catching eminent potential groom.
I feel for gentle hearts in this loud world,
Ever suspect, dismissed and derided,
For long has been the shy a songless bird,
That Darwin dismissed as ‘odd state of head’,
Jane Austin gave shyness a broader scope,
Calling it a ‘moral, mental disease’,
And Freud, his fame fending for men no rope,
With sub-conscious cladding, a twist of his
That smelt of ‘displaced love of self-scored goals’,
A simple disposition framed as law,
Oh poking fun and scoring birdie holes,
In matters straight, cobwebs of gauze he saw,
And sensitive violets were on blame,
Poor things, shrunk with self-deprecating shame.
Violets shrunk with disparaging shame,
And shyness drawn from society’s unease,
Scarce unto standard mould can ever squeeze,
O get condemned— a jade that could be gem.
Though sensitive nigh to a gawking gaze,
Here am I basking still in benign bliss—
A shy soul, they say, more inventive is,
And tolerant the more to worldly ways
That mistake plane shyness as being cold,
Aloof, and worse still, somewhat arrogant,
And value those that be loud, neddless bold,
I’m happy now that they were ignorant.
Let critics bask under ill-informed bliss,
I marvel, how creative this bird is.
Creative, this touch-me-not kind of bird,
Or call it a flower called violet,
An introvert of an easy mind-set,
One blessed with fecund skills, a bit absurd—
Skills lacked by too talkatively inclined,
While some greats confess to ‘fainting with fears’
Ere giving speech to some so-called speakers,
Some loners lack the skills called social kind.
I know, shyness has no one ever hurt,
But self that feels cosy under own skin.
Let shyness stay forever verdant green,
Let it never make me an extrovert,
That I live in my own solitude proud,
Innovative, gentle in world so loud.
_________________________________
Two recent books set my thinking bird brooding over bashfulness: The Man who mistook his Wife for a Hat, by Oliver Sacks; and Shrinking Violets: The Secret Life of Shyness, by Joe Moran. These books advocate that the shy should get a better deal, for they tend to be more creative. Here is the why: musing over, these three sonnets (crown of…) materialized that made me feel a bit elated.
Crown of Sonnets | 01.03.2017 |
Joseph Robinette Biden
now commander in chief yay
manning ship of state
tossing anchors aweigh
heavily pierced tattooed
donning sheepish pirate(s)
at heady roiling waterway
fending off trolling rapscallion
much more thrilling
than watching cabaret
January twenty first two thousand
twenty one marks his first full day
wherein Oval Office finally
flushed, ousted, and zapped,
whose paternal ancestry
begat genealogical linkedin émigré
name unknown, nevertheless
one Johann Trump born within
Bobenheim am Berg, a village
in Palatinate, Germany circa 1789
moved to nearby village of Kallstadt
where his grandson, Friedrich Trump,
the grandfather of Donald Trump,
born in 1869 gamboled
upon grassy fairway
whereby grandson notorious
to grandstand and gainsay,
but especially renowned
windblown coiffure
kept intact courtesy "fake" hairspray
said product he did fulminate
against and inveigh,
cuz he envied (as does yours truly)
the trademark thatch sported by J.F.K.
At long last, a stalwart adept candidate
unwittingly saddled
with onerous figurative freight
COVID-19, homelessness, joblessness
sober statistics impossible mission to inflate,
whose physique slender and lightweight
boot pulleys and levers of power
he quite savvily can operate
personable and suave demeanor doth resonate
allowing, enabling, and providing
law and order to materialize,
and accomplishments downplayed
(unlike previous commander in chief)
whose braggadocio would never underrate.
Concern still prevails
regarding that woman user
egging fascistic paramilitary
white supremacist ilk
twittering as a digital schmoozer
hell bent on sowing anarchy,
cuz other Democratic contestant
did not defeat
soured at prospect their man beat
(him - who shall not be named again
ranks as a sore loser)
nevertheless, an oafish shill bruiser.
If prognostications allowed me,
at bedtime, when a supine American,
one garden variety and generic
sleepy Joe among madding crowd
will experience glee
at prospective buoyancy, decency,
fraternity, harmony, jollity, levity,
nobility, prosperity, serenity, tranquility...
wishing no ill will toward
former forty sixth president.
TRAPPED
I run through life wounded with a steel jawed trap
ensnared onto my foot restricting my life’s essence.
Day in and day out I’m never able to shake it off,
in relentless movements as fast as I could go
so no new pain touches me.
I fight for sustenance; I fight to inhabit this life
damaged and wearied, from taking life’s persecutions
This invisible torment of my afflictions you can’t
Identify with.
I hold close that God is always watching and will pull me from
The of muddied roads that I run. He hears my tormented cries;
He feels my tortured spirit; He sees I can’t stop this path I’m on.
You say I’m not getting free but the running is
critical to me, as long as I can run, I’ll move,
don’t ask why, don’t question it, don’t try.
It’s not something you’ll ever comprehend.
Don’t question my animal instinct, let me be free
from what haunts me, from the nothingness.
You’re not saving me, you got nothing on me.
I’m God’s creature and vow to be who I am.
You say the war is over but the hurt remains
I keep a mask on through good times and bad
They don’t think my life counts but God sees the
merit of my existence.
Every day, it’s my struggle not yours, no one can imagine
the heartbreak, the suffering, the sorrow cutting my soul
as deeply as the rapt foot, it won’t come off it’s always
mine alone.
I’m still fighting, the battle rages on in my mind.
Stop your judgment, leave me be, if you have not
Been through this anguish run with me or without me.
I have accepted the aloneness in this fight.
This trap keeps me from fending off life’s predators.
I’m a solitary being with a broken spirit. My desperate
expression is evidence enough. Though my instincts are
powerful I’m not able to discern when I’m in danger.
I know GOD watches this unbearable burden I carry.
I pray when my time is up He gives me warning
So in the final moments I can stand still as I’m being
raised up out of this hell into Heaven.
My Angels in Heaven see me; I’m okay to die this way;
it’s not for you to say. I beg God to keep His guard on me.
I’m done defending this. I pray for you without any
prayers in return.
I run through life wounded with a steel jawed trap
ensnared onto my foot restricting my life’s essence.
Day in and day out I’m never able to shake it off,
in relentless movements as fast as I could go
so no new pain touches me.
I fight for sustenance; I fight to inhabit this life
damaged and wearied, from taking life’s persecutions.
This invisible torment of my afflictions you can’t
Identify with.
I hold close that God is always watching and will pull me from
the of muddied roads that I run. He hears my tormented cries;
He feels my tortured spirit; He sees I can’t stop this path I’m on.
You say I’m not getting free but the running is
critical to me, as long as I can run, I’ll move,
don’t ask why, don’t question it, don’t try.
It’s not something you’ll ever comprehend.
Don’t question my animal instinct, let me be free
from what haunts me, from the nothingness.
You’re not saving me, you got nothing on me.
I’m God’s creature and vow to be who I am.
You say the war is over but the hurt remains
I keep a mask on through good times and bad.
They don’t think my life counts but God sees the
merit of my existence.
Every day, it’s my struggle not yours, no one can imagine
the heartbreak, the suffering, the sorrow cutting my soul
as deeply as the rapt foot, it won’t come off it’s always
mine alone.
I’m still fighting, the battle rages on in my mind.
Stop your judgment, leave me be, if you have not
been through this anguish run with me or without me.
I have accepted the aloneness in this fight.
This trap keeps me from fending off life’s predators.
I’m a solitary being with a broken spirit. My desperate
expression is evidence enough. Though my instincts are
powerful I’m not able to discern when I’m in danger.
I know GOD watches this unbearable burden I carry.
I pray when my time is up He gives me warning
so in the final moments I can stand still as I’m being
raised up out of this hell into Heaven.
My Angels in Heaven see me; I’m okay to die this way;
it’s not for you to say. I beg God to keep His guard on me.
I’m done defending this. I pray for you without any
prayers in return.
(alternatively titled eldest daughter despises us)
Eden (beloved eldest daughter) icy
flat tone of voice spoke volumes,
when she talked with the missus and me
courtesy cellular telecommunications key
December twenty seventh
two thousand nineteen
unwavering listless dull verbalization see
I subsequently told spouse, she
thy super smart self reliant progeny
fending for herself approximately
last half dozen years exhibits je
ne sais quois profound loathing
predicated growing up dirt poor free
quint lee lamenting deprivations re:
guarding legal tender adequate specie
i.e. money - at least compared to every
MainLine millionaire flush with dee -
suppose able income, and oft times
lovingly, pleasantly, unexpectedly...
receiving largasse gift horse courtesy
zayda (my father), who art not yet
in heaven sprung monetary help, ye
this second born and only son did
profusely think him (papa) lee
ving voice messages on his landline,
and tracfone, plus wrote heartfelt poem,
similar acknowledgement modus operandi,
when said offspring
became twenty three
years old - five days ago, nonetheless thee
admirable, dependable, honorable... née
holds Matthew Scott (namely he),
who helped beget
darling feels angry,
and doth plainly exhibits contempt
(you) dear reader guessed correctly
towards sorrowful dada,
where inescapable thralldom
doth invisibly chain
(think ghost of Marley)
apologetic sir, whose
precious kinder, I
will unwaveringly cherish
forever love and Revere
despite up Paul ling
destitution, grinding linkedin penury,
and red hot poker faced
anger, yes... dismay
prevails how unforgiving
once (Benny sent) baby,
inside joke, I attest neigh
scent "star student,"
now grown young woman,
no longer - figuratively
wrapped around yours
truly her finger
father who fell short, natively cree
hated abhorrent within re
cent mammary, bosom (hers)
harboring scathing unmasked vee
hum mint, blistering, rancorous,
seething, volcanic withering...,
no matter disgusting revulsion
toward aging mommy
and repentant daddy,
I LOVE YE EDEN + SHANA!
A weary way-fairer all lost in wood
One dark night fending for food fell in well—
Unused and dry— it left him fate to brood,
But clutched on still to Banyan roots that fell
Into well, half awake hanging midway,
Spending the whole night praying for a ray
Of hope, precariously suspended;
And dreamt he was lifted out, not yet dead.
In trying times, as sole lifelines from blue,
He wondered: what man would without dreams do.
Never in life had he dreamt for dawn more,
Which when came, came to spell disaster—
There growled at the well's mouth a mighty tiger,
Greedy that stared, hunger writ all over;
His only chance now was to go deep down,
Hanging for life, letting the danger go,
But no, he heard a python hissing— brown
And big, tongue twirling, ready to swallow,
Lifeline-like roots beginning to give in,
When destiny frowns, one’s luck too gets lean!
But when his faint vision began to blur,
And tired brain lost of starch to think,
He felt a cooling, sticky little stir,
Dripping from nose to lips, slowly to slink
Down to his mouth; but how, how can it be?
A few drops of heavenly sent honey!
Above, he saw a bear seated aplomb
A tree, grabbing on to a honey comb!
Maybe, his grave fears on fate were not fair,
Life after all has fair for all to spare.
Well, waiting he was his life’s dawn to be,
Hoping, those hungry mouths would go away,
Waiting now for a few drops of honey—
What looked like an eon— that half night's play!
And it dawned to him: life nigh like that is—
No more than just a few licks to relish
With hitches, glitches, catches everywhere,
And yet, freedom still smiles, to us that tells:
In life, plights come with pleasure, how so bare,
Wisdom's to weigh: how long to wait in wells!
_________________________________________
This poem is allegorical on life's long journey, which by and large littered is with agony, with a few drops of honey thrown in by destiny here and there. Man lives amid hopes of better times.
Reflections | 03.01.12 |
A Poem For The Erudite, it sure will be hot
Take the time out to listen, rubbish it's not
Straight from the life of a perspicacious young man
Try and comprehend it...I sure hope you can
There's a lot I can tell you, but I'll make it laconic
Words to astound/it works like a tonic
But, it all isn't good, I'm sure you'll agree
I robbed to support crack, went on a spree
Nonetheless, I must tell you about erstwhile things
About Cause and "Affect" and what it all brings
It started with punishment and led to abuse
Stomped, punched, and kicked like a piece of refuse
That was at home, a total nightmare
Told my story to many, few seemed to care
Yet, at school it was different, oui, au contraire
There were many happy times, but, in all they were rare
Still, to escape from my father, a partial reprieve
An escape so traumatic, you can hardly conceive
Fascinated by study, entwined in my thought
Trying to achieve, Knowledge I sought...
Then came junior high school, another hill to climb
Still, being abused....now etched deep in my mind
Then came the reefer, then came the coke
Life became heavy/like being grasped with a choke
Playing hooky from school to hang on "The Deuce"
Leaving sadness behind/youth on the loose
Coming home at all hours, high on the drugs
Fending off admonishment/not verbally/with shrugs
Now, we come to part of my Crack addiction
On a mission to " Scotty"/incarceration/great friction
On a mission nuff years, retaining intelligent potential
Well, I couldn't lose everything, the mind is essential
But, through all this in prison, you can't know my chagrin
For nothing egregious/no unredeemable sin
But, remember I told you about Cause and Affect?
Recalled in my poem, I helped you reflect
Being abused was profound, a real heartache
There were many times I thought, my life I would take
But, instead I turned to crack/searching in vain
I know to crack you say/how gravely inane
Yet, there's a moral to this story/my life in review
I was abused and kicked crack....and you can kick too