Long Hamlet Poems
Long Hamlet Poems. Below are the most popular long Hamlet by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hamlet poems by poem length and keyword.
“There’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow.” Shakespeare in Hamlet
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Augury
As the shine of the sun sets down
In the far away horizon
In villages as in the towns
And dusk stealthily makes its dawn,
The sky awhile pivots to pink
While clouds wafted by woeful winds
Seem in the firmament to blink
Racing across the sky with spleen.
Does the pink sky augur a storm,
Tempest, typhoon or tornado
That may buildings and trees deform
Without a tinkle of ado!
Does it herald devastation
Of fauna and flora on land,
Of harvest and cultivation
And rocking of boats on the sand!
Nature seems to have its own way
To admonish human beings
To hold their boats firmly at bay
And arouse their inner feelings
To keep those near and dear to them
In safety and security
Until the end of the mayhem
Heralded by the augury.
To scoff inklings of such omens
Is to invite spates of worries
From the clutches of a demon,
Let one`s ship sink in the deep sea,
Allow storms to set one`s house flat,
Disregard clues from the divine,
Let the wild winds whip off one`s hat
And snub signals from the sublime.
Some things are lost along the line
Some things, beautiful and fine
Driving down the lone road to the stream in my hamlet
It’s like yesterday; like catching birds from their nest
I giggled as I drove by
Mothers breast feeding babies and singing lullaby
Naked boys rolling condemned tires, and
Ripped virgins with little cloths coverings, as attires
I giggled as I drove by. It’s just like yesterday
I remember Jerome and others as we gathered to play
There was the moonlight rendezvous
Where we all gathered, boys, and girls, all of us
There was the tales by the moonlight,
Ancestral heritages, sacrifices and the Lion’s might
The Lion’s might, yet he falls beneath the crafty tortoise
I still can hear the choruses; I hear my youthful voice
I loved folklore songs. Wars songs for strong sons
Let me try seeing if I can still sing one more;
Yes! I still can sing “Omalingwo”
Omalingwo, Omalingwo tee …… Omalingwo
Omalingwo, Omalingwo nwam…… Omalingwo
Omalingwo, Omalingwo dia …… Omalingwo
Nne nei di na Otutu-aja-o………..Omalingwo
Elikwue ma yu atuna ngwo ji ……Omalingwo
Ngwo, ngwo onye oma………….Omalingwo
My God, I feel new!
I can still sing it! Oh God I knew!
Omalingwo! Story of the child of a deprived mother
Jealous king’s wives over ready for murder
Murder and deprivation if that will give them a son
To sit on the king’s throne and shine forth like the sun
Story of good over evil. Omalingwo!
A deprived mother’s son.
I giggled as I drove along,
Remembering my tiny breasts, when they formed
And more fortunate girls laughing me to scorn
I remember these things till sadness beclouded me
I am fully grown now; nostalgia overshadow me
My age mates, plus me, all gone to the cities
We can’t assemble again, just like broken pot in pieces
Oh! The Eve’s tempting apple of white collar jobs
I heard Jerome lived and then died in Jos
Killed by religious rioters with missions unjust.
I heard Nwasombia is a head dresser is Lagos
At 52 and still searching? Celibacy is obvious
I heard Nosike is in aviation, head of pilots
Even Chima is now in parliament in Cyprus
Chima, who spoke big English like “opprobrious”
My age mates, plus me, all gone to the cities
No more gatherings, just like broken pot in pieces
Still driving along the lone road to the hamlet stream
Still thinking of beautiful things
The beautiful hamlet serene things.
In moonlit night , in silver shine
From heavens I in this world peep
In my soul silver intervine
With body on the earth it leap
No chart in hands, no light Divine
That showed me way in shadows deep
For silver shelters there I pine
All of them in my heart I keep
I kept on walking on the ways
And shine on them the silver moon
In meads in dales in silver seas
All silver plains all silver trees
I saw thee in the silent lane
As if thou sang in silver pain
In silver Hamlet, silver hut
With silver lamps and window shut
There sang with thee the woodland lark
The Silver ledge and silver lake
And silver shadow in thy wake
Thy silver camp in silver heath
With silver daisies underneath
They sang a silent silver song
And sang with them the nature all
The silver grass and silver dew
As if they were a part of you
A silver was in soul of thine
A silver was in heart of you
In silver magic of The lord
The leafy ships afloat in yard
In silver night by silver pine
My soul with nature intervine
I roamed in silver land of Lord
And silver ocean there me called
I walked on silver sandy land
With Moon and ocean hand in hand
I saw the silver boats by shores
Leading to heavens silver doors
The schools of silver fish that peep
From waters of the silver deep
The sheet of silver sedge by edge
And silver birds on silver ledge
As bathed in silver scent they all
The lamps of meads, the lamps of temps
And dipped in silver sheen they all
In heart of mine was silver show
Betwixt my eyes was silver wall
Silver silver was the Mead
And silver was the waterfall
To see the charms of silver world
My silver soul wherest enthrall
In eyes there shone a silver gaze
More shining than the moonish rays
I loved with pheasants silver moon
From silver skies, a silver boon
With books I went on silver mount
My days and silver nights I count
By silver fields on silver path
On leaves with quills I often wrought
Oh silver shadows come for once
Wherest thou live wherest thou go
O leap, o jump, O meet me once
In Nature's heart, in silver show
As if in far off days of yore
In silver nights in silver temp
In nights of peace in nights of war
Devotee pray in nature's camp
With silver lamps on silver ways
Till Day of judgement soul will pray
A mind inquisitive will find
while looking out upon the world
that myriads of whys unwind
from raveled webs in queries whirled
by skies above and realms below.
There’s always more than we can know.
If contemplating mysteries
of life’s existence here in space
along with astro-histories
within our cosmical embrace,
the awe one feels will surely show.
There’s always more than we can know.
In famous drama by the Bard,
where Ghost is spotted ‘wondrous strange‘
by castle sentries standing guard,
mid ‘sworn to secrecy’ exchange,
says Hamlet to Horatio,
‘There’s more than you can dream to know
‘on earth in heaven, countless things
in your philosophy not taught.’
(And so begin misfortune’s slings.)
To summarize his gist of thought
in passage ever apropos:
There’s always more than we can know.
Some think that memorizing facts,
despite their changing through the years
as seen in how mankind reacts
when ruled by prejudice and fears,
amounts to understanding, though
there’s always more than we can know.
The gladiola in delight
will bloom as forces lure her on.
Bright stars o’er-sprinkle dark of night
but fade from sight with breaking dawn.
Thus Nature’s cycles come and go.
Yet there’s much more that we can know.
Vast marvels may await our gaze
beyond imagination’s ken
by polishing away the haze
to clear enlightened vision, then
shall fountains of deep wisdom flow…
There’s always more than we can know!
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
“The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existence. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery each day.”
~ Albert Einstein ~ ”Old Man’s Advice to Youth: ‘Never Lose a Holy Curiosity’” LIFE Magazine (2 May 1955) p. 64…
The poem is written in verse, having stanzas with refrain…
Inspiration was derived from various passages from The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, by William Shakespeare, in particular the following…
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
~ William Shakespeare, Hamlet Act 1, scene 5, 159–167
We The One Who Die
There you have it, something marvelous that is nigh impossible to achieve…
A small country hamlet that has completely banned smoking, you better believe…
Somewhere in an offbeat location in Indonesia, people there achieve an impossible feat …
There, in a small country hamlet, or kampong by local slang, everybody has smoking beat…
The people that live in this unique hamlet or kampong exhibit remarkable self restraints…
How else can you explain this impossible feat of successfully achieving a No Smoking ban…
Of course there are visible signs from the local authorities declaring this smoking ban…
There, at the very entrance to this unique settlement of country folks living simple lives,…
A simple sign reads “Thank You For Not Smoking, Say No To Cigarettes” for every visitor…
Another says “You The One Who Smoke, We The One Who Die”, what a grim reminder..
Tobacco related economic s are stymied here in this hamlet of simple country living…
Unlike in the rest of Indonesia where as high as 30% of adults are hooked on smoking..
For a country with 200,000 smoking related deaths a year, this hamlet is setting the lead….
Nearby kampungs, villages and communities are working hard in trying to emulate…
The seductive lure of the tobacco related economy and monies are insignificant factors…
When the individual, and the community, are resolute and determined to prosper…
For the monetary savings from not smoking daily are very significant to better spending…
As evidenced from the comments gathered from those who have stopped smoking…
This little piece of writing is my salutations for the people who are residents in that area..
Where fresh country air is free of tobacco particulates and life couldn’t be any better…
I could imagine in my mind the simple lifestyle there on offer, a simple country hamlet…
Off the beaten route, away from the din and bustle of modern high paced hassles….
Bravo to the residents of this rustic Indonesian village called Kampung Bone Bone ….
Bravo for their collective success of promoting and prospering health to each home…
http://www.star2.com/health/wellness/2016/03/18/this-tiny-kampung-did-what-authorities-couldnt-ban-smoking-completely/
In last night's movie, a young writer
and an older, married with children French woman
fall in love. They did not meet during a village massacre
and money is no object, Manhattan
the place I was priced out of. But after everything has happened
she cannot leave her children, not even for love, because of love,
the love that brooks no serendipity.
Here, in my family, love is taken for granted
except when it's withdrawn and then even the trees lose all meaning,
familiarity. Now it is almost dawn:
this and that must get done in committee or alone.
Don't reach, go slow as the day will allow.
But that's not what I came to say.
Perfect rest v. having a destiny.
A complete breakdown in self-discipline.
It begins by saying nothing I do matters under the eye of eternity.
Hamlet x 5 centuries.
Add to that all the science--chemistry, physics--calculus and music
I don't know. I have sat next to, at weddings,
brain surgeons and robot engineers. I hit the street
choosing a church on Fifth Ave. or Trinity Cemetery, walking the
heartless city.
In the subsequent late night movie, a wealthy
altruistic doctor arranges for the murder
of his neurotic concubine. His guilt provides us
with an opportunity to consider
the concepts of faith and forgiveness, that all will be well in the end
after a period of meaningless suffering.
In this way the seasons have been circulating for eons via convexity.
I don't know what I'm doing but I'm doing it anyway.
You trust in genetics, God, prosthetics or prayer, whatever
gets you to the morning. That's when the sun,
a billion trillion nuclear detonations per second
warms your bones.
You may remember an old lover who's gone before
or continues to exist on another plane, in another ecstasy.
Having installed a new toilet seat
and made a few philanthropic donations
I can kick back tonight and watch movies, right?
Not. I'm ridding myself of another addiction
like illegal drugs via caloric restrictions
getting enough sleep for two people or more
and reading none of the dry words in books from the library.
When there's nothing to do, when I'm bored or dreary
I'll sit still and watch from the window, I'll wait
for the weather to change, which it will.
Beauteous lass Thy wounds are bleeding!
Crowning crowning where thou go on?
Mothers weep and babies feeding
Crowds on crowds and trumpet blow on!
Wearest thou thy wedding garments
Then which grief thy heart thus torments?
Darkling darkling lonesome pathways
And between them Thou were standing!
Train of stars with Moon and all fays
Goddess Dream on earth is landing
Wondering heart His beating ceases
Blood from veins this scene squeezes
Smoke in vale from hearths is rising
Winds in dales and woods are whistling
Kids in yard folk tales are listening
Bird in feathers wrapped her nestling
Smoke is rising from the clay hearth
Clouds are pouring tears on wet Earth
Candle flames in gloom are flickering
Sailors all boats row and row on
Niles Queen thy story listening
Souls from heaven come and go on
Play in childhood thou in thy meads
Waves of Nile by Hamlet flow on
Gathered thou sea shells and sea weeds
Wild wild airs meanwhilist blow on
Sea mermaid on water floating
Boatmen sing songs as they row on
Lord is focusing cameras at thee
Writing fate on heavens while He
Pipes and timbral thou are hearing
Whilst tears from thine eyes flow on
Saddest pain which thy heart bearing?
Filled with tears wherest thou go on?
All maids of king on thee wait on
Beauteous soul on Nile shores come on
Crowds and crowds of people on shores
Head to toe thee eyes are watching
Bowing heads all queens and all moors
Chairs on chairs on shores they launching
With thy feet they stones are tieing
Whilst clouds and breezes sighing
They are leading thee to high waves
And all roses on thee throw on
Watching thou thy wistful heart caves
And thy love with thee now go on
Fling they thou in holy Nile waves
Thy pure love on banks for thee wails
I can't see thou come out goddess?
Beauty Queen tell are thou Hearing?
I'll help thee in thy distress
Silent stars and meads are listening
Hamlet folk's all hearts are bleeding
On the banks thou see them kneeling
I know all that wherest thou go
Stars on ways for thee are standing
Goddess moon and death in boats row
Bands of angels on waves landing
Watery Queen , come on don't be late
Eden Lord for thee on Skies wait!
What I'd like to give you is
an ounce of my cherished perfume...
a precious incense carried by me,
all bustling hustling years long.
in hamlet of a serene village,
a charming abode in my childhood,
windows covered with unique curtains,
made of delicate fragrant grass - Khus..
pleasing breeze gently murmuring through those plants,
brought alluring aroma of a dreamlike life!
Utopian memory soothes my existence
even today in hectic fluttering lifestyle
sadly left quaint dwelling unwarranted,
due to an unexpected occurrence
to my mother...hurriedly had to leave,
with me the wistful scent always stayed.
a frolicking damsel, rejoicing with a doll's house,
immersed in reading to her heart's content,
home surrounded by fairy-tale garden
bordered with ravishing flowers fragrant.
Bring me home that nostalgic seductive aromatic scent,
of a pure innocent unforgettable mesmerizing youth
encircled by doting family, adored by admiring friends...
engrossing dreams, entrancing memory of a playful childhood.
Notes: Khus is a tall grass plant - it has a complex, earthy, woody scent similar to lemongrass, which has been valued for its aroma since ancient times. This plant originated in India, but can be found in Indonesia, Haiti. In very warm areas in India, window-coverings used to be made, using these aromatic plants, and spraying water on them.
September 28, 2021
For "Bring Me Home" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
Hey! Devilish scumbag demons
You terrorized our forest and sneak to our habitat
You are so brave, and you renowned yourself in our home
You are such a coward scunner
Whom plunder our land and exterminate our laughter
Hey! Terrorist you are so cruel and hateful
Every morning the news paper editor owns tribute to devil
There isn’t good news since you sneak to the country
You only operate at night whenever we let our guard down
We always frightened about you terrorist
And scared straight
The television shows how you hostage our girls
We always in despair, which state is the next
Which school you are targeting the right next
Hey! Terrorist why are you covering your
Evil ways with Islamic names
We know you are innovation to Islam
You are non-Islamic orthodox
You are just bringing religion confusion to our people
You are sons of devil it shows in your satanic verse
Each day you bring forth more pain
People cannot sleep in peace
We have heard so many catastrophes
But nothing so afraid as cold blooded-
Butcher and indiscriminate killers
A disaster and calamitous beyond expectation
We heard many had die
It wasn’t a car accident nor a plane crash
A mysterious body rash
We are federal republic yet we afraid just
Ordinary a group of militant in our grasps
Why is our hamlet so silent, every-Where?
Were so cold like vampire field
Aren’t we in a democratic country?
The corpse of our virtuous men in the street
With butterfly and eagle roasting on their flesh
Our farm land is full of corpse
While our nursery-bed is full of bloods
Our hamlet as turn to dust
Our men were slaughter, our girls are kidnap
But we are proud of our daredevil tribes
They will drive you away from their forefather lands
Hey! Terrorist why do we failed so long to conquer you
So many informants between our elites and generals
We deliver our weapon to you terrorist willingly
Then we suffer in such a great defenseless
And undefended slaughter and massacre
Our blood is shared in our leader’s plates
Instead of us to harvest a green pasture
We are fertilizing and harvesting
Sorrow and broken heart
Hey! Terrorist you are such a vicious
Enemy to our mother land
On the dreary streets of a quaint but callus steadfast hamlet
A pearl in the bluster carries a handwoven sweet grass basket
The umbrella' d tinge of the tiny town was opaque and gray
As the girl in the blue dress out shined the break of day
A beauty comparable to the first hint of light after winters darkest night
Emerging from the black ashes of peril like a beacon in your sight
Walking a well beaten footpath to town that was forged by frequency
She seemed to float on the earth's surface with affluent translucency
With a quick cut through an alley she'd enter a market in the center of town
Where farmers, hucksters, and traders peddled their wares till the sun melted down
There was a hastening hum to the hurry and hustle of the bustling crowds
But she stood out with a deafening silence as does the sun amongst clouds
My ears quelled the chaos as my eyes froze the scene like a loyal horse waiting
She was the sole proprietor of movement in my eye's still life painting
From the first instant I saw her, many pairs of years ago
She implanted herself inside me as a seed with a need to grow
Her smiles were the rain that perked me up when I was wilting
Life is but a patchwork of blocks the gods must be quilting
And if the large design of life were sewn together pieces of fabric effigies
I'm the stitch in the ditch of the piece work that she will never see
When our eyes made contact It was the sunlight I needed to thrive
For I'm but the sapling in the forest fighting for some sun to survive
To survive the cruelties of nature is a feat far from a cinch
Formidable giants must fall for me to gain but an inch
Generations of time pass till the present season is all that I got
And one by one all the old growth must rot
And the timbering of my brethren in the past has been fine
But now I creek when the wind blows and I'm next in the line
Time cannot age youthful thoughts that are as sweet as honeydew
As my mind travels back to that pretty girl in the hand sewn dress of blue
The handful of times our hands touched strengthened me like the winds from the west
I'll never forget the girl in the pretty blue dress