Long Hut Poems
Long Hut Poems. Below are the most popular long Hut by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hut poems by poem length and keyword.
What is life without joy and happiness?
what is life without self honour and pride?
Upon this mountain hell i lay every day
Battered and frustrated
A man of sorrow, forsaken
My spirit groans for mercy which failed to come
All is taken away from me including the smallest pin
of what is life without a mother?
painted black and red
I mourn every seconds for that pretty damsel
swifter that the eagle, my heart pounded
Joy whispers sadness in my ears
and tears becomes my friend
In despair i feast and dance sorrowfully
they mock and throw me around like a forbidden coin
men are evil, my spirit moans
Raising my eyes to see my ears
i could tell of their wickedness
my goats, cows and jewelries gone
Hear me evil souls, the nature has its judgment
Once in life, it cometh and it hard to escape
It hard to escape the judgment
look at father native compound
it been taken away by strangers
those who once dance with us
In good fortune and share our breads and barns together
NOw, they are against us in fury
Dare point us in the face and laugh
Hear me old friends, nature has its judgment
The nature has its judgment, beware
In my old age. bitterly i weeps all day
in affliction and harsh labour
my foes had become my masters
the roads to my hut mourns
my compound groans and grieved
None to comfort me, all my friends had betrayed me
All the splendor has departed in the air
this is why i weep and,
my body shivers
My eyes overflow with water
All who pass my way clapped and laughed at me
Enemies open their mouth wide against me
my grieves are many and my heart fainted
i am in torment within, disturbed and distracted
I remembered my wandering and pains
In the dark forest alone
Covered my self with anger
perhaps my father had sinned
And i didn't know and,
we now bore the pains
Getting brad is at my life risk
Because of the sword beneath
look and see our disgrace
Those who pursue us are at our heels
my siblings scattered abroad sorrowfully
No one to caution us and drag us back
Till end i know the earth has it judgments
i shall sing beautifully with joy in other phase of life
when the gate shall open.
ALL RIGHT RESERVED (C) JOHN CHIZOBA VINCENT 2013
I see him stumbling around looking for something to hold on to but there was nothing there except the open thin air and a bunch of bureaucrats wearing thin frocks walking around on wet grass with fake greetings and a forced smile that caught us by surprise.
Bob has been in the news and this has left everyone confused he is running for office again, midths the barrage of criticism running down his spine weakening his legs and making him look like the walking dead. At first, he looks like a robot coming out of a hut, and then it appears like a man in despair. There was no one around to cover him except for gravity and his own sanity.
Bob is fun to be around but this time his attitude makes me frown, he does some weird things, like walking with his nose pointed in the air and use his finger to show you the clock.
Sometimes he is agitated and his temper cuts deep causing everyone to proceed with caution while he rolls the dice and shuffles the cards. He is a nice person to be around but the mood swings will drag you down; yesterday I invited him for tea, we had a small talk and it left my aunt weeping in the dark, what is really going on with Bob?
Bob is a very good man but sometimes he looks very sad; he has a very tight schedule and attends more than ten meeting in a given day, heaven knows how he stands up while going through the gate.
He knows his work quite well and he can talk up a storm from hell and still remain true. I watched him come and go and how he presents himself while he rides the big ship, and the ceremony he attended with the mercenaries hiding in the bushes and the guard of honor marching every hour to pay their respect to Bob.
He wasn’t quite in it, he was always looking for something to hold on to but the air propels him along and John, his closest friend, stood next to him and pushes him on.
I could sense a silent annoyance rising up in john’s emotions, as he reached for support while climbing the steps. He attempts to hold john several times from his back but John shrugs and show him the way with a polite gesture.
They and had a cup of tea towards the end, and spend some time feeling out each other. What was said, I really don’t know but the cluster bombs exploded and close that chapter. The tennis match was a blessing in disguise, and it is an indication of how the story will end, I love happy endings.
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
We opened a book that started with the name
of our country.
The right side was numbered corruptions and the other side was numbered greed & bad leaders.
We burnt the stride of our bodies into aches and dreams waving away fire and foliage of silence.
Women learnt to carry portrait of bodies of their dead children on their shoulders, beautiful corpse.
It reminded us of the civil war in front of our Father's betrayed house.
It reminded us of lyrics written on the walls of our Hut with a framed keys of memories.
Love that taught us to look back into our heart and draw current of men in their ignorance in search
of a better home than those bridges we burnt.
Things like the pains in the eyes of a boy,
Things like the tale on the lips of a girl,
Things like sadness in the soul of a mother painting the images of her lost children in prayers.
Those strange tears stranded between chapters of the smoke as they travelled to the lonely cloud,
With the echoes of our forefathers last libation
Like the voices trailing from a boy's name for the lost of his prestige.
There are things that we may not know that leave our footprints to our heart through the opening in our nostrils and ears.
In our land was where a boy once stood on the face of the sun, his shadow reflected on a mirror.
He saw his future carted away by his fears.
Lost girls found in his assaulted plights
Trying to find home in a shark's mouth.
They hold water from the oceans together basking their hope on the traffic of women holding their bodies and leaving their dead for survival.
We do not live in the moon!
We do not whisper to the wind of the song we
heard him sing every day!
Of things that come in white and black are
like our straying country weeping with the
images of the masses.
Like those corpses brought back to BENUE.
Those images are the images of darkness projected by a big screen of the sky to our eyes.
Our names burnt into different rivers holding different tribes that seek for freedom.
We wrecked our testimonies to bleed blood with flames to suffocating cities surrounded with pity.
Those things on white are the way we were built but the black demons corrupted us all leaving memories to sneak our hearts into dark places where mischievousness can take over us.
©John Chizoba Vincent
From_A_Pen_Refusing_Frustrations.
A strange claim
Of a man of passion
Of kindness
He said
Let the children come to me
For what man would refuse the smile
The innocence of a child
He parted his kindness
His wisdom
His love of all tribes
Animal and man, felt the kindness of his eyes
His tears grew this world
His voice made all of us listen
He made fisherman, philosophers
He made masons run free
He sang to ladies of the night
With the wine from wells of passion
Caliphs and Abu Nuwas soon followed
Love belongs to no one tribe
No sect or religion
It’s the flower that seed's travels the globe
Like feathers floating in the wind
When you see a child with no food
A woman with no smile
A man with no home
You make a balloon or funny face
You grow a rose
You build a hut
Trust in the kindness underneath
It will kiss you on your death bed
You shall rise to the heavens
Knowing
You loved the universe
Notes: This is one poem that for sure can be peeled like an onion. First of all, I am working on a poem based on historical fact, and documents from the Vatican, that will serve no other purpose than to tell an age old story. Yes part of it takes place in current day Turkey.
Second, I have a friend who resides in Turkey, and we met over the internet, and over the years, have become friends. I know him to be kind, to all people and animals. We are simply friends that have shared stories, laughter, and hardships at times. Whether someone lives next door or half way around the world, true friendship and honor is hard to find. You can not give it or receive it. You can only both earn it over time.
No man is perfect, we are what we are, but when you see a world in turmoil, as we do these days, maybe this small event or moment carries weight. I myself am not so nice. So then I must say this, My friend Volkan is, not to me, but to countless people. A smile and kindness costs nothing, and the world needs more of this richness.
Everyone these days talks of how technology is ripping apart society and this may well be true, but this is a choice we all make, technology is merely a tool. One can also use it to build bridges and friendships.
Normally I would be shy to give such praise, however events have taught me that, its better to speak good words than be silent.
Thank you, for helping building a better world!
In a moment of magic I once gave her a juicy innocent peach
Not yet knowing that she harboured a sweet nascent dream
In which as a youngster she knew that she would marry the one
Who handed such a fleshy gift to the gypsy Queen of Fairy Land
Bestowed upon her by night’s prophesy she carried the vision of
Requited love and blissful peace brought by subconscious longing
And spiritual clarity of a Higher Power submerged in compassion
A passionate fruit with soft skin and one huge seed of togetherness
We eloped together into a new dawn
The doomsayers had a field day as they harvested bitter doubts
‘It will only last a couple of months and the peach will turn rotten’
‘You cannot feed on clairvoyant oracles and meek pagan beliefs’
‘They are deluded insane and caught up in misguided romance’
They called her a witch a seductress and labelled me irresponsible
With so much at stake painted pictures of broomsticks and failure
While we had found the jewel in a haystack without even searching
And set fire to the past as we danced naked around a fire of passion
We knew the truth of intuitive feeling
One can never be sure what lies at the end of paths never taken
Whether road blocks and diversions belittle emotions and faith
But they who ignore heavenly signs forfeit adventure and truth
Stay stuck in spent time and hail its dubious comfort at their peril
We travelled and found a small hut on the beach out of sight
Collected starfish and driftwood and caressed wounded souls
Carved wedding bands out of sea shells and called upon dolphins
To witness our marriage surfing along happily ever since then
A cormorant applauded the feast
Under a star studded canopy on the miraculous shore of belonging
We never strayed from what intuition and feelings offered for free
Meandered on the shoreline and set our sails into a magical ocean
Tasted the salt of a mindful earth and soothed our recovering minds
Never questioned the wisdom of our union shared by hungry souls
Treasure pleasure and joy weathered powerful storms and all tides
The cosmos donates all we ever need once we are willing to navigate
Waves and effervescence sparkling desire and in our case a peach
Leading the universal way
13th May 2020
Let our hands interlock into a
beautiful zipper of prayer and
take pride in being african!
"What is the pride of being
african"
Asks a girl- unknowing of the
roots from which her family
tree grows ..
The lines on the palm of her
hands resemble the veins of
the african leaves she was
born into. Her
Bi-racial hair curled up in locks
of african beauty
Nd yet she asks " what is the
pride of being african?
An african woman whose only
pride is the curve of her hips
and the natural arch of her
back- ignoring the map with
which her mind can make- or
the different shades of brown
her skin radiates into the rich
airs of africa..
In the middle of an undeclared
war
We uncounciously submit to a
mental slavery ..seeking
comfort in the pains of the
past.. Slitting our rists with
resentment and self pity..
Handicappin our minds -
moving forward but still
arriving at the previous
destination!
Such wounded nations!
Why do we scrape the african
tatoo in the arteries of our
hearts by poking the the past
makin way for its venom to
make us bitter...
Perpetually impregnating our
minds
Only to give birth to a
vendetta!
Is that the pride of being
African!
Adding insult to injury
we duck and cover
Hidding from the touch of rain
Shieldin ourselves from the
sun's smile
But then.. Then we embraced
the weather and posed in the
sun as if God was takin a
piicture..
Then children with no toys
believed they could transform
oxygen into gold
Then a mother through trials
nd tribulations could still find a
corner within the circle of her
mud hut
Then the diamonds of Africa
lay in the sparkling eyes of a
new born -raised to the
heavens as an African
declaration
I listen to the invisible wind
chimes made by mother
nature
Singing songs of praise
Painting african countries on
this canvas we call Africa!
I see the poetry that lies
within future Nelson
Mandelas.. Seretse Khamas..
Futures You's and Me's
I inhale the soils and all the
memories imprinted on them
jus as Africa is imprinted on
me -
I rub off hurtful footprints of
hunger
slavery..
All for the pride of being
african
Let our hands interlock like a
beautiful zipper of prayer- nd
take pride in being african
...A jolt ran though the broken men,
like wraiths they rose, streamed for the door,
Gobayth waved them on until
nobody remained anymore.
They raced on towards the small hut
where all of the pick-aces lay,
some guards were starting to notice,
running about every which way.
Gobayth wished the poor men luck,
but he did not follow their path,
and instead ran to the side gate
the guards used to go out and back.
It was little more than a door,
and Gobayth figured these keys
might just be what could open it,
one of them did, and he was free!
He heard the fight behind him race,
but raced toward the stables dark,
ducked low as two guards raced by,
the sight nearly stopping his heart.
He slipped in and grabbed a lean horse,
didn’t bother with a saddle,
rode it out and cantered northwards,
by the stars, through night, he travelled.
Come day he hid in deep forest,
usually laying low by a stream,
he’d eat whatever he could find,
then make ground under the moon’s beams.
Several days brought him to the moors,
the great, rolling plains of his youth,
he wanted to cry out in joy,
but came to see a brutal truth.
The grass was blackened, turned to ash,
only some young seedlings poked through,
fire had consumed everything,
at least everything in his view.
He saw no horses, cattle, goats,
no herds ambling through their home,
but as he pushed on he soon saw
scattered heaps on animal bones,
And further still, charred, half-burn tools,
seared rawhide, skeletal ten frames,
whole families were set ablaze,
very little of them remained.
He rode to where his family
usually grazed this time of year,
the landscape didn’t change that much,
his stomach was a knot of fear.
Then he found a burnt-up lodgepole,
a falcon totem on the top,
the metal bird, his family’s crest…
Gobayth’s heart and reason stopped.
Around the site were scattered bones,
picked over by the scavengers,
what remained of the ones he loved,
Which were his sisters? His mother’s?
On the bones he saw deep sword-cuts,
this hadn’t just been the fire,
people had killed them where they stood,
a massacre had transpired.
He searched the grass around the site,
trying to find some sort of trace,
he found a broken, steel spearpoint,
the kind the Black Flint people made…
CONCLUDES IN PART VI.
headland harbored primitive biota abut
mint for exotic sole terrain sustaining
sole terrain sustaining seeds, spores, spermatozoa, ova
seeds, spores, spermatozoa, ova , et cetera gut
preserved within mine follicular pores, sans
I secured per woof and meow wing warp organic matter
heir in to fore shielded from elements akin to thatched hut
aware wrenching kamikaze eradication
of countless critters from many Godaddy longlegs;
creepy crawlers, hops scotching,
shimmying with schmaltz, moon walks, et cetera
lost when germ warfare obliterated vast majority
since advent of civilization ordained Proletariat and Plebeian Primate
(cherishing, fostering, insulating bon mot infinitesimal dot re: future mutt)
dogs and also cats off limits
asper demise of other creatures decimated – tut tut
atop thine noggin housed (within thimble size nut)
rare and near extinct flora and fauna, what
species of plants and animals, whose preserve comprised
equivalent of indigenous village people huddling within microscopic yut.
Thus, this bipedal simian angst riddled at experiences
forced at figurative crossroad
when itching scalping a dead giveaway clue
to lather up hirsute growing via bald faced code
at further expense invisible life forms such action would erode
fast dwindled diversity, hegemony, longevity
i.e. population except *****Sapiens who didst goad
forefingers needed to massage and scrub thine scalp
as like a field getting hoed
sometimes applying solely cold water knob to un load
a healthy plethora, where gushing shower head would send them
down the drain perhaps displacing their meal times,
or feasting on louse see pie ala mode
aware that survival odds regarding
getting thru water treatment plant, premonition aye node
and greater chance to avert total mortal kombat avoided
if I trekked to Antarctic anti pode
so...similar to other occasions necessitating me
to lather 50 shades of gray –
as if subjected to being snowed
quite aware many people would avoid me like the plague
(which reaction eagerly embraced) if knotty,
oily, straggly natural headresss
hence, this outlier surrendered and got gently toad
value of hygience – and lost as if playing tictactoe x/oed.
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