Long Immigrated Poems
Long Immigrated Poems. Below are the most popular long Immigrated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Immigrated poems by poem length and keyword.
In my little village, Nkporo,
We celebrate the Iza Afa Festival
And the Most Magnificent Igboto Nma Festival.
The two are more than four hundred years old,
Our forebears told us that it began with
Their ancestors who immigrated from Heaven
When Chukwu was sharing the earth to broken Humans.
They got their teethless share of the earth and
There the magical festival began to grow teeth.
It is celebrated in the Eight Villages of Nkporo
But, not at the same time nor the same earthless year;
On that day of the treasured celebration, everyone is a nobody and somebody,
The wind would howls in sweet poetry,
the trees would dance back and forth in a blissful form,
And the papers and leaves go up in merriment.
Then the open windows shut with a clapping hands
Welcoming the house roofs which rattles with songs.
The most dreaded guilty masquarades come out,
Helter skelter, the lost children run here and there;
As their homes skip and elude them in the square.
The Villagers feel nothing but the joy of excitment in the air,
As the dusty sand fill the tensed atmosphere.
The houses clear and the streets is filled with people.
Then, the men and women of the festival comes out
All glowing and shining like the sun in their ragalias.
A bright flash takes the entire village,
The whistler whistles by in an unknown tone,
The Igboto Nma people are excited and joyful too
Because they would soon stop the payment of taxes
And levies among their age Grades.
Their responsibilities in the village ceased as they drop the heavy knife on the village square.
But the new responsibilities now lies on
The shoulders of the Iza Afa age Grade
Who are now being initiated into a new phase of Life.
The Igboto Nma clans leave a legacy to be remembered for in the innocent virgin community.
The sky in joy makes night of the day,
A noise that deafened comes from all the corners of the land,
Then the Eze Aja blesses them all and pray for long life and prosperit.
The rain makers keep the rain far off,
The fortune teller and the diviner dances all
Through the day and night,
At the end of their rituals at the village square,
They all goes to their tents and celebrate till dusk.
Food and drinks are abundant till the next day,
It always a day to reckon with in Nkporoland.
There are 144,000 persons living in an open land. All are freemen and women. They have everything they needed to survive until one day when almost all people needed something else to quench their thirst for immortality. Not everyone wanted immortality where there is already peace and harmony in their common lifestyle. Some opted to live a simple life while more people were tempted to search for more to suffice their bodily pleasures.
"Whose idea is this?" one asked.
Many people replied: "Nobody except of some animals that approached us."
The same person asked another question: "How can animals talk to humans... in what language?"
Nobody answered out of the many people of over one hundred thousand.
Many days passed and day by day a group of men and women started moving to a different place. For a very long time where these common people have lived with serenity in the very same old place of peace and laughter, they are now being divided and scattered. No one was able to explain if it's an ideology or a new belief why people started to view things around them differently. People looked at each other in different ways unlike before. More years passed and almost everybody's gone except for a family of eight.
One day, this family discovered the place where almost everybody went... a secluded site believed to be a paradise in the outside, but only hatred and sorrow in the inside. People who immigrated to this new place can no longer return to their old blessed land which they once called "wasteland" -- land of their birth and good values.
Do you know where most people went?... a place immigrants called "Nede."
All six children-members of the only family left outside of the so called "Paradise of Nede" asked themselves if they can survive in the coming years. Their parents answered: "Why worry when you don't live with guilt?"
I only write, but never kill
My blood runs deep, but temperature is still
So deep and caressing as the ocean moves
Over sands and paper, always wet and proves
Reminiscing your memories in me
Reverberating your sweet thoughts of me
Your heart that speaks... my pen that tweaks!
(Prosebite)
A nation with the southernmost capital in the globe
whose identity has constantly been bullied
by the global acknowledgement of a larger one.
A place where economic empowerment comes through films
to the point a movie employed a minister for maximum harvest.
No name longer than that of a Hill in Hawkes Bay;
no part of the country is more than
hundred and a thirty kilometer from the sea;
no nation is least succulent for the biting teeth of corruption.
And no other has simultaneously graced females in all high national positions.
Isolation has ruled over its wild life
to make them manufacture accessories for unique survival.
The alpine parrots, ground dwelling Kiwis and the Kea bird
all congregate in its center of diverse bird species.
It is a log off site to snakes both local or immigrated
and a home to the world’s smallest Dolphin species;
second to none in the species of penguins
and land to the heaviest insect ever known in the world.
Imagination comes to life in the existence of a giant carnivorous snail
while Disney embraced reality through the mystery of Pelorus Jack.
Uniqueness in history is continuous
in this last populated habitable landmass in the world.
Is it a first time father at eleven and a century old?
Or the pioneering of plastic surgery in medical history?
Is it the appointment of a national wizard into government’s cabinet?
Or the historic climbing adventures of Edmund Hilary?
So concerned about the Queen’s safety and its territorial defense
is such a region attributed to the long white cloud
with its blue lake- the world’s clearest waters
and its ‘women’s-right-on-voting” pride;
It’s still flabbergasting to realize five out of every hundred
of its population is human; the rest simply animals.
FOR PROLIFERATION OF THE IMMIGRATED SOUL
There are those people who would not leave their country no matter how the trouble comes.
There are those people who leave the same regardless of loving home.
Yet, there are those that leave their country just from the mere thought.
They want to embrace diversity.
They want to experience the world.
America the beautiful is origin to the immigrants’ daughter or son who travelled to our shores with his or her spirit and soul.
Contented to find his or her own niche in the world.
Encircled by the strife and the struggles that confronts them to develop within an economy that has its depths of despair.
You now consider one selves native born because you are part of a government and a home front.
Our neighborhoods are our safe havens.
The bases of our freedoms is this interior.
The Statue of Liberty stands in the great State of New York where immigration manifested and destinies were sought.
Today you harbor the same protective thought that your worth is palpable to autonomies given.
A sanctuary that cherish your diversification, America the beautiful you come concentrated to growth into frugality of a new generation.
Determined to your mien, your consideration is the right to work.
Your interconnectivity represents your material culture.
Sociability, you strive to thrive in divergence...
For proliferation of the immigrated soul that came to America as a catalyst within a new world.
Stand now for your self-determination, for your independence and choices...
You have the freedoms and the hope for a greater tomorrow.
Social sets and communities will form.
Welcome to the United States of [North] America!
____________________________________________________________|
Written August 22, 2016!
In the spring of 1880 young Clifford Griffin immigrated from England to Colorado.
The death of his fiancee left him bereft and he was searchin' for his El Dorado.
He settled in Silver Plume where he and his brother bought the Seven Thirty Mine.
Clifford and his brother Heneage became very rich from ore that assayed very fine!
With all his riches, Clifford chose to live in his lonely cabin above the town.
His only companion was his treasured violin which he played with some renown!
His melancholy melodies wafted down from his mountain aerie 'most every night,
To be heard by the whiskey-guzzlin' hard-scrabble miners to their delight!
Clifford always dressed in black, enjoyed fine cigars and was quite the dashin' bloke!
He seemed content with his solitary life and in business was as solid as an oak!
Alas, death cast its gloomy pall high above Silver Plume one moonlit night.
Instead of sweet violin music, a single shot was heard that left the town affright!
Next morn his mortal remains were found in a grave he'd dug for himself alone.
His heart-broken brother found the pistol with which his brains he had blown.
A grand monument was erected atop the mountain just above Silver Plume,
At the very spot where Clifford lay midst the ponderosa and Columbine bloom!
Mysterious events now occur on that lonely mountainside accordin' to local lore!
'Tis said on moonlit nights sad violin music is heard below on the valley floor!
Folks have seen a black-clad phantom smokin' a cigar and drawin' a bow,
Playin' melancholy music and a wraith in Clifford's likeness a-swayin' to and fro!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Entry for Carol Eastman's "Story Poem" Contest
Morning Thoughts
Sunday morning, heavy mist clings to the building
the bay of Cascais is shrouded as a grief-striking widow
inaudibly her sigh, but her eyes are still sea green
Ten days ago, I made a prediction 19000 will die before Israel was sated of spilled blood,
her primitive revenge speaks of Byzantine times
Truly, Israel is a religious state
The local news tells me in the last two years
three hundred thousand Brazilians have immigrated
to Portugal this without fanfare or disapproving remark
from conservative politicians, perhaps they have yet to notice this influx, which I think is positive.
Although Brazil and Portugal are Lucio-phonic, the incomers bring more color and wake up the staid
Portugal often sinks into an abject sentimental Fado.
The Portuguese premier is suspected of corruption, has resigned but will keep his job until a new election
We suspect he will be found not guilty, although he might have had a hand in the till; other people lower in the political landscape will pay the price, but Portugal has a forgiving people, or forgetful, will see them in the assembly again
In Alentejo, there are many men-choir like in Wales, a tradition to stand under a big Carvalho clicking stones together and sing what appears sorrowful tunes
There are no Brazilians in Alentejo one wishes that some of them would come and bring music to the sad songs
Otherwise, I like Alentejo; she has the best red wine in the world, and you can't top that.
.
I immigrated to Canada from Greece, in nineteen seventy-one
It was the best thing in my life that till that moment I had done
Nothing was easy for me since I did not know anyone, I confess
The first thing I had to do was to establish a new address
I had to find work but spoke little of English and not a word of French
This made everything difficult so I couldn't my hunger quench
Little by little though and after many sacrifices from my part
Slowly but steadily I succeded in making a new start
I began to work and at the same time started going to evening school
For I did not wish forever to remain an ignorant fool
Years, painfully, passed by and finally, one day I got my first degree
I learned, English, French, German and also got my Ph.D.
Commenced teaching, found an honest Canadian woman, and tied the knot
Became a Canadian citizen, had children whom I love a lot.
Now I look back on this exciting adventure and gratefully exclaim:
" Thank you, O CANADA, for, without you, my victory couldn't proclaim! "**
© Demetrios Trifiatis
01 July 2021
* This is biographical writing. All words are true!
** Alexander the Great made once a declaration about his teacher who was no other than the famous Greek philosopher, Aristotle. He said: " To my father, I owe my being but to my teacher, I owe my well-being."
Paraphrasing, Alexander, I say: ' To Greece, I owe my being but to Canada, I owe my well-Being." HAPPY CANADA DAY!
Overweight Terrier:
Porky
Yorkie
Un-cool Terrier:
Dorky
Yorkie
Spaniel dog breeder:
Cocker
Stocker
Parrot who mimics a Spaniel's bark:
Cocker
Mocker
Book on how to care for Cockers:
Spaniel
Manuel
Originally from England, a well-rounded Spaniel stays in shape by playing:
Cocker
Soccer
Then showers and dresses by its:
Cocker
Locker
Dachshund headgear:
Weenie
Beenie
Grouchy Dachshund:
Meany
Weenie
Proportionally, male Dachshunds have:
Teenie
Weenies
(But size isn't everything)
Dachshund making critcal life choices:
Eenie
Weenie...
Lassie was a level-headed dog and never engaged in:
Collie
Folly
Reared in a loving environnment, she was a rather:
Jolly
Collie
Bred in the capitol city of NC, making her a:
Raleigh
Collie
To commemorate her frequent (and often rowdy) visits to N.O. a streetcar was renamed the:
Collie
Trolley
Snoopy immigrated to the States but alas, was found not to be a:
Legal
Beagle
Thus he was deported back to England but was promptly knighted by the Queen becoming a:
Regal
Beagle
Now a celebrity, he even had an entourage of nubile young female beagles named:
Snoopy's
Groupies
Eventually, he met his soul mate, married her in Westminster Abbey and it is rumored that they engaged in numerous and somewhat kinky sessions of:
Snoopy
Whoopie
She had been indoctrinated to believe her country was free
But she hit the tripwires, had nowhere to flee
She learned the hard way that what she'd been taught
were lies from a regime that couldn't be fought.
His country was designed free, the constitution shows
But there are some paths where nobody goes
There is organized crime, and ideologues on fire
Better keep your mouth shut, or you'll hit a tripwire.
A Mafia immigrated and set up shop
They hired bad scientists, the cream of the crop
Jane didn't know, treated a member with contempt
Soon had to run to doctors, wild, and unkempt
All sorts of health problems, she couldn't understand
She had been a runner, now barely could stand
Couldn't sleep at night, strange symptoms during the day
She had hit a tripwire, and she had to pay.
He saw a pretty woman, her smile drew him in
A slippery slope, maybe a sin.
His life became a horror movie, with villains unseen
he had been in the mire, but they would not let him clean
With glee they fastened on him like a clam
A perverted science, for a once sinning man
They had drugs to make urges go from ember to fire
They plotted his downfall, he had tripped that tripwire
Do we really know what's around us, not to mention who?
Do we know the real rules, and what bad people do?
Is our world inverted, at the wrong moment to find
that we had it all wrong, it doesn't work as designed?
Dachshund headgear:
Weenie
Beenie
Frankfurter for a Dachshund:
Weenie
Weenie
Grouchy Dachshund:
Meany
Weenie
Un-cool Terrier:
Dorky
Yorkie
A Terrier who pigs out too often might become a:
Porky
Yorkie
Spaniel dog breeder:
Cocker
Stocker
Parrot who mimics a Spaniel's bark:
Cocker
Mocker
Book on how to care for Cockers:
Spaniel
Manuel
Originally from England, a well-rounded Spaniel stays in shape by playing:
Cocker
Soccer
Then showers and dresses by its:
Cocker
Locker
Lassie was a level-headed dog and never engaged in:
Collie
Folly
Reared in a loving environment, she was a rather:
Jolly
Collie
Bred in the capitol city of NC, making her a:
Raleigh
Collie
To commemorate her frequent visits to New Orleans, a streetcar was renamed the:
Collie
Trolley
Snoopy immigrated to the States but alas, was found not to be a:
Legal
Beagle
Which of course drove:
Snoopy
Loopy
Thus he was deported back to England but was promptly knighted by the Queen becoming a:
Regal
Beagle
Now a celebrity, he is blessed with an entourage of young beagle admirers named:
Snoopy's
Groupies
*Submitted for The Funny Kid’s Poem Contest sponsored by Team Poetry Soup