Long Lebanese Poems
Long Lebanese Poems. Below are the most popular long Lebanese by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lebanese poems by poem length and keyword.
Everything around me is still
The soft lights ward off the cold
My worried heart is unsettled
Every minute makes me old
Time seems to drag on and on
Not sure I can take much more
I’m waiting for my angel
to walk in through that door
There is nothing to do but wait,
so I wonder about her day
but what’s taking her so long?
Did she somehow lose her way?
I think about my visit
My first time to see her place
In my glimpse into her life,
a weariness I can trace
She flew away to this isle
to try out her angel wings,
and in following her dreams
she untied the home spun strings
“Our children are not our own.”
Oh, great Gibran*, can’t you see?
My precious 18 year old,
Will always belong to me!
Oh yes, she may live elsewhere
Have a family of her own,
but she’s my little baby
and in my eyes she hasn't grown
I wait and wait and wait
Please, God, let her be alright!
I look out of the window
at the blackness of the night
I think of all those mothers
who wait for their children dear,
whose tired and aching arms
long to hold their loved ones near
The wait for them is fruitless
Its end is a tragic woe,
for death holds back their loved ones
The "Wait of Pain" will not go
My heart shares in their sorrow
My soul weeps for their plight
For though my daughter is late
She’ll be coming home tonight!
For Waiting Contest by James Rogers
September 9, 2015
*Khalil Gibran was a Lebanese-American artist, poet, and writer of the New York Pen League. There recent move, The Prophet, was about him.
War at Kurukshetra (Bharat) was great,
Where human and divine face to face met;
Arjuna and Pandavas won the tough war,
Arrogant powers of Gauravas brunt bore;
Could this be compared to Goliath-David?
Where humility and faith in God got elated;
Though won and gained glories abundant,
David depended on divine triumphant;
Arjuna, in Kurkshetra war, knew his power,
Yet pleaded the power of God to empower;
God too heeded him and came to his help,
Does God leave the children just to self-help?
Though the war was fought long-long ago,
Implications of it make us many miles go;
When we’re wearied and need God’s favor,
He’s ready waiting to hold our hands ever;
Amidst sufferings and shadows of pain,
Decease and death and physical corruption;
Hands of God is ever extended over us,
His footprints guide and safely lead us;
Kurukshetra war or Israel-Palestine fight,
Buddhist uprising or Chinese conflict;
Abyssinia or Somalia or Yugoslavia,
Lebanese fights or wars of Pakistan-India;
Humans should control the surging ego,
Or fall will go before their pride does go;
Forgetting divine power if we proceed,
History will forever to involution recede…
22 July 2021
He dresses as the fool
But does he fool you?
In clothes of rent
Torn twisted and bent
He drinks to excess
His voice is loud
He spouts obscenities
But he runs like the wind
Catch, me if you can, he shouts
The maze of traffic makes his jams
He speaks in riddles
Like old men, from ancient lands
He collects bottles and begs for lamb
He mumbles, I am homeless, kiss me hand
He is crazy for this is sure
He lives in alleys like a whore
Jets above fly overhead
Their orders received from a street called Hamra
As their armies invade, so bold
The homeless man, their leader
The man from Hamra
Notes: Hamra Street is a somewhat famous street in West Beirut. It was one of Beirut’s trendy areas before the civil war, and was frequented by poets, writers, and intellectuals.
During the civil war, and before the Israeli invasion of 82, there was a bum who lived on Hamra Street who was really a spy for the IDF of Israel. No one paid him any attention, being a street beggar, at the time when there were many. Not only was he collecting intelligence, he was the running a network of spies at the time.
From a Lebanese restaurant/coffee shop I frequent, I am told many fascinating stories from all over the world. What a lovely feeling to sit among people of all religions, nationalities and opinions, and share life’s experiences.
Thank you Diwan
Anyone who happens to have any first hand experiences referencing this poem, I would love to hear from them.
Carlos Ghosn makes a daring escape
It has now become Japan vs Lebanon
CEO had to literally think- Out of Box
This whodunnit as good as Mr Bond
In Japan he was in house arrest
Darling of Lebanese masses
A go getter, a family man
There is some charisma
Leaders and criminals
Dreamers and doers
Put In a tight corner
Resolve challenges
CEO was accused
Fraudulence and
Malpractices
Embezzlement...........................The Man Who Ran
Personal Gains...........................N I S S A N
The NISSAN boss
Le cost killer. Fix it
Had to shift gears!
From ‘a tight corner’
Came ‘grand escape’
Staged an unbelievable
Brazilian-French-Lebanese
Was trapped in sedated Japan
He smuggled himself out- In A Box
Maintains a corporatesque non-disclosure
Quite likely the story of the box is just an alibi
His motivation? “I did it for the love of my wife”
.
CEO’s are known to write interesting biographies
Few things they do not teach while giving degrees
A post retirement flip; a Hollywood flick; or Politics
.
Amitabh— 17-01-2020 : Visual - Text around Nissan logo.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=djyyWlCPFd4
On December 7, 2013 a bomb blast killed former Lebanese Minister, Mohammad Chatah and several others. Less than an hour ago, another bomb blast took place in the Dahieh area in Beirut. My husband is away....my daughter is out at a friend's house, and I'm sick to my stomach of not knowing......where is safe, where can we go? This is the latest Post on FB by a student of mine showing a picture of the explosion. "New Year....New Bomb."
I'm tired of this. I'm tired of the rest of the world turning a blind eye. I'm tired of feeling guilty because I'm in my nice warm house and there are Syrian refugees living in tents. There are little children dying of the cold. I'm tired of hearing of the blood of martyrs being spilled. I'm tired of hoping and wishing for peace for this country and knowing....it will NEVER be. I'm tired.
I'm tired of reliving fear. Tired of worrying about the safety of my brother who lives in the downtown area where all the political figures have their mansions. I'm tired of hearing him talking about some embedded glass shard working its way out of the skin of his face...even now. He and his wife were injured in the bomb blast that killed Prime Minister Rafic Hariri years ago, scarring their faces for life.
I'M TIRED OF THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I AM TIRED...
Eileen M Ghali
A great gaggle of phony truths on Facebook!
But never our God do we read!
For as you know, pornographic words fill Rap
and movie screens.
We get off on such immoral chicanery!
God was removed from a convention with
smiling, unabashed intention.
Yet~for Black Lives Matter, we fall to our
knees.
As if White, Hispanic, Chinese, Lebanese,
were but worthless pieces of cheese?
When we were born, we were all given the
same PRIVILEGE to be.
There is nowhere in the Bible that says for
whites only.
Such rank, radical leftist,baloney.
Imported by George Soros and his hellish
company.
To every country and nationality!
By his fireplace he sits, as paid protestors
burn cities down.
Oh, Lord! Take away this international,
murdering clown.
He's succeeded in promoting death and
destruction.
Loss of life and American happiness is in
his blood and makes him function.
We can keep following his insanity or
rediscover both the Word and the great
Constitution!
Then board the train and all join hands
in gratitude at sunny, Sanity Junction.
God Bless All Natins.
August 27, 2020
3:30 am PST
Farewell to Mustafa Bad reddine
We salute you
Murderer of humanity
You have received your just rewards
Zulfiqar has sliced you to pieces
Mohamed spits on your body parts
On examination they saw
The sum of the parts has no heart
You tried to fell the great trees
The cedars of Lebanon
You failed
Rafik Hariri now has you on a leash
You thought you were Daesh
Your army of hatred
Gives you Hitler salutes
While intellectuals feed you pork grinds
You are now buried
In hells fires with your fellow pigs
In morning headlines of the news today
We Celebrate
At the breakfast table
With bacon an eggs and coffee so sweet
Your death, truly was a treat
This man killed 1000’s in cold blood, Americans, Israeli’s, Jews, Christians and Muslims, for him blood was simply blood. That 1000’s attend his funeral shows you how we have yet to learn about humanity.
Rafik Hariri was the Lebanese Prime Minster killed in a car bombing in old Beirut, organized by Syria and Bashar al Assad and carried out by Hezbollah and Mustafa Bad reddine.
Zulfiqar = great sword
I had cycled to Upper Montclair
It was humid, hot, smoke in the air.
I was sweaty, and smelled of Deet
circles under my eyes, and I was beat.
It was Sunday, I'm agnostic, or I'd be in church
Anyway, my state flipped to desperate search
I went to the gas station, to the staff I made a plea
I said "Do you have a bathroom; this is an emergency."
The owner said "sorry, not for your kind."
So I pedaled off, nearly out of my mind.
I saw a port-o-potty, with a lock on the door
Seemed to defeat the purpose, what it's made for.
A drug store was open, I gave a sigh of relief
But the bathroom was out of order, this was beyond belief.
I scanned the trees, but each patch of green
Had a house, a dog, or a camera unseen.
(chorus)
When nature calls, on a Sunday morn
You forget the rose and feel the thorn.
It isn’t just pain—it’s a primal shame,
When the bathroom calls you by your name.
Finally, I rode my bicycle through church doors
The crowd looked shocked, but when it rains, it pours.
The priest pointed out the restroom, I just made it there
And thanked heaven for religion in Upper Montclair.
I had made my fortune shorting the Lebanese pound
So I gave ten thousand dollars to each parishioner, shock all around
Shook every hand, then rolled out of there,
The faithful will remember that day in Montclair.
A weird feeling is crawling up and down in my chest and it leaves me grasping for breath, it crawls like a man walking along a corridor in heavy boots and sacks mounted on his shoulders.
The birds are gathering around holding mass in the town and the road on my chest that leads the worms into the lion’s den is lined with chocolate bars and delicious candies for the trick or treat traditional Halloween ceremony.
My stomach is getting warm and my adrenaline is running a marathon behind closed doors and a strange sensation is circling in the air makes me want to vomit.
There was nothing around to gargle in my throat and it left a peculiar taste in my mouth, it wasn’t bitter or sweet, but sweet and savory blended with meat, toast lamb to feed everyone and sacks of rice that could last for a life time will soon melt away in the sweltering heat.
My stomach is crying out and it makes me want to shout. Continental breakfast on the rocks and Canadian breakfast is waiting on the dock,.
Egyptian breakfast will stir your appetite and Lebanese food will turn you into a fool. Tutankhamun love fava beans seasoned with garlic and eggs,cooked in ghee will make your heart sing and when the temperature is right and your spirit is high you can try Foul Medames to build your stamina.
There is talking all around and visitors are still in town, they did not see it from the beginning and they still cannot see that the end is coming
This is the best it has ever been; the economy is paying for their sins, the doctor is hanging around and the final warning is issued for them to get out of town.
The warriors are moving down south and pilgrims are camping up north and the criticism is laden with bad mouth.
The defiance is mounting and resentment is growing, the land is going to collapse into the ground and everything within rage will burn to the ground. Nothing shall escape, nothing can change it, you still have some time to leave that place before the temple of doom spit fire into your face.
I am perplexed and my spirit is groaning
American cheese, if you please
Not Taiwanese or Japanese
Nothing Maltese or Vietnamese
American cheese, if you please
You say I must try Swiss Cheese
Lebanese and Nepalese
At Chanukah, ‘Monterey of Maccabees’
Farvoss?* American cheese, if you please *'What for?' (Yiddish)
But surely you’ll take a bite of Siamese
Portuguese, Pekinese or Paraguese
And how can you neglect Senegalese and Congolese
Not now. If you please, American cheese
Is our diner a narrow-minded provincial
Nisht!** ~ she’s old, a Jewish immigrant NYC election official **No! Not! (Yiddish)