Long Hari Poems
Long Hari Poems. Below are the most popular long Hari by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hari poems by poem length and keyword.
Angels we have heard on high,
Blowing trumpets in the sky,
Helping us to breathe a sigh,
Of Joy that we shall never die,
Angels we have heard on high,
Saying love is truth that ties,
Us all as one these tears I cry,
For all the songs that we shall sing,
As we make earth and heaven ring,
With sounds of crack babies getting free,
Through curses fading beneath the feet,
Of evangelists spreading love on streets,
Replete with souls hungry to hear,
That there is nothing nowhere to fear,
As children smile ear to ear,
And brothers share stories over beers,
As Muslims see their Messiah come,
And Christians see that life has won,
As schizophrenics dance at dawn,
Knowing that their pain is gone,
Angels we have heard on high,
Freeing us from dark one’s lies,
Showing all the God within,
That lights our souls and masters sin,
That makes girls ladies and wee ones men,
That chants Om Hari Hari Om,
And tunes into abundance tones,
That helps us stay faithful to our wives,
That guides our hearts throughout our lives,
That helps our spirits come alive,
Awakening to calls to rise,
Angels we have heard on high,
Speaking of a God of Love,
Above, below, within and everywhere,
Waiting to embrace with grace in hands to share,
Angels we have heard on high,
Blowing trumpets in the sky,
Helping us to breathe a sigh,
That we are safe in the hands of God,
And God won’t let us down,
That true we may feel oh so lost,
But to God we’re already found,
Angels we have heard on high,
Chanting oh so powerfully,
Of love’s everlasting victory,
And Love’s wondrous choice after Adam’s fall,
To send us a Savior who has saved us all!
Far off the beaten track and trail
on quest for music’s Holy Grail
led pilgrims on biblical scale
more than can be counted.
With midsummer sun on our cheek
in tents to shelter we did seek
and pitched them at its highest peak
on a hilltop mounted
As we climbed the lean of the hill
my beer I would try not to spill
and sat with the great unwashed till
olé and adios.
It was I, El Skeet, amigo,
in my poncho and sombrero
half-cut like a loco gringo
who waved “vaya con dios!”
We lit yet another hash bong
all up in smoke like Cheech & Chong
and passed it to each one along
under the cop radars.
Late as corroded brain cells flag
with every mind trip headfu*k drag
I tucked in to my sleepin' bag
on the hill ‘neath the stars
As music and mayhem did rage
back in next summer’s youthful age
we camped closer to the big stage
all primed for the big show.
I’d sit and watch the crowds go by
in the hot sun and dust and dry
under a big Waikato sky
from our camp on tent row
We ripped into our grog trailer
and drank like a drunken sailor
but by nightfall lookin' paler
yet in the crowd I went.
Waitin' for Cold Chisel that night
with a superdoob glowin' bright
I was fu*kin’ high as a kite
and lurched back to my tent
The next day I woke in a daze
and walked off my drunken malaise
when I heard singin' songs of praise
in some weird sh*t I saw.
Tambourine hippies, punks and geeks
and chantin' Hari Krishna freaks
burnt incense in clay painted cheeks
so I got high some more
Yet in a hot wet and wild hour
stoned in the unisex shower
I gazed many a sweet flower
in their naked splendour.
We bathed too in waters that flowed
down where the lazy river bowed
lest my head spontaneous explode
on my three day bender
That night by the stars we were led
as above a smoky sky bled
when out The Enz rocked “I See Red”
and fired a burnin' flare.
In the spirit of Sweetwaters
we lived among at close quarters
sons of Bacchus and his daughters
and I, El Skeet, was there!
Written: November 2009
Champak flowers, you have charms three:
Beauty, colours, and fragrance,
What among them the reason be
That drone bees dare take no chance?
Radha's charmed by Champak’s beauty
And bee is Krishna’s devotee,
How can any a close he be
To blossoms of a Champak tree?
________________________
Translations | 30.10.2025 | bee, devotee, fragrance, tree
Note: This follows the first part of the poem. A poet in Braj bhasha (see below) ventures to explain why in the spirit of ‘ God may know, but let me try’. Radha, is Lord Krishna’s love interest, and as she is cast in Champak’s charms and the drone bee being Krishna’s devotee, would sure pay due respect not to go near the flowers. What fertile imagination I would say!
Champa tujamein teen gun,
Rupa ranga aru bas,
Kaun gun aiso bhayo
Ke bhramar na aave pas?
Champa-varani Radhika,
Aur bhramar Hari ko das,
Kaise fir bhramar aave
Champa ful ke pas?
Emily, let me ask you something
The life that you needed.
Why did you love a poor guy?
Lives dead. Our children. Hmm
You don’t cry. Your children are dead
I am sad. Disappointed. Field my life
A life, a poor existence, walk on and off
Emily. Here is the question. Answer it.
What did you want from a general worker?
Hmm. You were a hired woman against me.
English Mata Hari. Emily. Hmm. I forgive you.
A millionaire woman ate the life of a poor man.
Hmm. Nothing happened. I drop your hand.
Best of the best
Hmm.
Goodbye
Passed
Love
Find him
St. Andrew's Church
Kingsbury
A thousand-year-old cemetery
"The Moon and the Crow"
Legs of a journey open
along The Road
Black Crow
ruffles his feathers
Moon transforms
White Lily pearly luminescent
Unfurling milky legs and arms
Mata Hari dances naked
Cool emerald eyes
intent that beckons
piercing
heart that levitates
towards
the Other’s dimension
Witness
Lilith’s
Resurrection
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
CocoRosie - The Moon asked the Crow ( with Lyrics)
https://youtu.be/D5C88GrQrsg
Lyrics:
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/cocorosie/themoonaskedthecrow.html
K.I.S.S.
141.
Daragus 1
-Si Dara-
1 Isang prinsesang bawal yumapak sa lupa
Siya ang binukot na si Dara
2 Ang kanyang edad ay labimpitong taong gulang
Natatanging anak ng mga magulang
3 Matuwid at makintab ang maitim na buhok
Mana sa amang hari na mapusok
4 Maputi at makinis ang balat
Mana sa inang reyna na madalaing magulat
5 Tapang at nerbiyos sa dugo nananalaytay
Matapang sa buhay, natatakot mamatay
6 Sukdulan sa proteksiyon at pagka-sensitibo
Kaya ‘di pa nakalalabas ng kwarto
7 Subalit mayroon din naman siyang libangan
Kumanta at manood ng mga mangingisda sa durungawan.
-06/22/2012
*Gintong Lupa Series
I was-
suicidal when my baby died-
possessed with death
when my love left
a name engraved buried deep
and went into a dark pit
running from life happiness was gone
self-murder
thoughts filled my days
I was locked in what was and not reality
the devil
whispered wicked plots in my head
diabolic hellish hari-kiri plans
then God spoke and calmed my soul
so I crawled
into the light embraced the world again
and vowed to help those lost as I was-
with no path but death in their future
I am a listener giver of hope a friend
when they are full of nothingness-
________________________
September 8, 2017
Free Verse/Suicide Prevention
Copyright Protected, ID 938275
Written for the contest, Suicide Prevention Month
sponsor, Laura Loo
Second Place
When all the world is a giant burden,
Banerji sir, my colleague, a true SST Allen.
“Maan ki bat Modi ke Sath; rest other shun,”,
Says always my friend Banarji, never stun
Or stagger or startle, never remains barren.
Best friend who teaches Dhruvi and others Balkan,
Or India with psychology, without an apron.
Kenil, Hari, Bhavin, Shivani had some unban;
With Favourite dish of Dada, a fish; talks on Patan,
Sings hymns, buzzes about Mahakali one.
Says, “Your age is less than my profession.”
Scolds us, “Worst batch of year” – a Pun?
He is Bangali babu, wears dhoti, kurta even,
Talks about SST, and about doors wide open.
He is a Brahman, takes plausible action,
Wearing a chevron, is our Divine’s lion.
Meshwa, Diya, and Pitambar are clearly won,
With Aryan, Harsh, Nupur, Dishal and billion.
Let it be Shakespeare or Keats or Byron
He is through with all, has a great fortune.
Appreciates my Monorhyme and region
Never keeps quiet, but is pure bullion.
Dear to my students, Esha, Jeet or Rohan.
Prosper a lot is my wish, Oh! Aaron!
I'm Just Getting Started
I'm just getting started, though I'm not in control,
But I am all dressed and indubitably, very well-composed,
virtuously loved by many, with honored adulation exposed,
so I lie and wait, but ready to go, anew, in my dapper clothes.
A broken watch on a floor, as time ticks onwards as before,
A kiss that's giving--believing, a kiss that's receiving--deceiving,
The moon coasts to attuned hearts that are squabbling on a lane,
Stars twinkle to sparkled wishes pouring from tear ducts of the hopeless,
Night waves surge, tickling the traipsing shoeless of the fully-clothed.
Baby falls to ahhs!--cries--carried, cuddled to coos,
Then wide-eyed to wonders of weird faces of two adult fools,
A writer's measure can be the length of a Tolstoy novel or the brevity of a Haiku,
Mata Hari can read her victims like a book, while Cassanova can undress pages with his looks,
The blessed and the bliss read scriptures from this,
While Cain to the cursed cast spells and do their worst,
From the sublime to the lowly, to the noteworthy and the ordinary,
From Titanic's affluent first-class to her destitute in steerage,
One day we will stand equals, titless bearing none other,
The Book Of Life is read, there stands, once a king next to a pauper.
2019 September 13
*5th Place*
I'm just getting started
~~John Hamilton
788.
Ang Pagkorona ng Tinik
at Ang Pagputong ng Hibik
At isinalta si Hesukristo
Sa kamay ng mga Praetorio
Oras Na! Oras Na! Isinalta na!
Lalansihin na Siya!
Sila ang mga sundalo
Mga galamay ng Imperyong Romano
At ng tinik kanilang kinoronahan
Ang pinaratangang hari-harian
At isinalpak si El Gordo
Kina Baladhay, Hapitan at Clavero
Oras na! Oras na! Isinalpak na!
Lalaruin na siya!
Sila ang mga LPardo
Mga galamay ng Paaralang Tanco
At ng hibik kanilang pinutungan
Ang pinagbintangang UNA-UNAhan
Ang paggawad ng madugong Corona
Mula ba kay Iblis o kay Allah?
Dios ba ang nagpapahamak
Sa itinuring Niyang mga anak?
-04/08/2020
(Dumarao… Holy Wednesday)
*Unique Holy Week