Long Nationhood Poems
Long Nationhood Poems. Below are the most popular long Nationhood by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nationhood poems by poem length and keyword.
The famous mountain where Noah came to rest,
ending the ecliptic flood, building an altar for time as test.
Flourished kingdoms at the upper Tigris grew,
Babylonia and Urardhu created powers to sew.
Persian legends refers the holy Vulcan as the cradle of human race,
Armenians built a monastery in honor to St. Jacob’s pace.
Mount Ararat as omnipresent and utterly elusive,
snow capped peaks imaginative conclusive.
Magical countenance almost not of this earth,
crisp air in endless blue white mountain infinite birth.
Center of legends, myth and story,
the fire God Vahagn stumbles upon Ararat with all gory.
Giving life to Tigris and Euphrates River,
pagans visited ghost of royal ancestor in shiver.
Armenians and their homeland of Kurdistan under fire,
centuries in war for nationhood and holy place entire.
Good spirits in distillation known as Ararat Brandy,
Sir Winston Churchill called his favorite tipple, ‘handy’.
No Arc ever found beside many tries on Mount Ararat still today,
keeping mysteries in holy books still at bay.
10:01
To expand the mind is to find the Time,
To explore, to see and play some.
Be the mysteries of life and see sum,
of the intriguing clues left behind.
For instance, "On the One" you can find,
A Roman number left in a line, at the base.
At the start of the step that defines the Ace.
One. And it reads....be...
1000 to the M,
500 Ds then,
CC on the Note?
They left some quotes to find when,
L is for Love, half and half from Above,
XX their kisses you see. V is for peace and
yes, I can see. How to be, this.
How to be.ace for the Pe.ace. Yes...
On the One, Day of May in the Q of '76,
a spark appeared, it flared in the mix,
in the air it flew, around the Earth too
and then it landed, inside of You.
Marked the day indeed, on a pole
put a ribbon, in a bowl put a reed.
Then get a bird and plant a seed.
It's Time to Be.
Freedom rang a familiar song,
recorded the day and called it Long.
We worked for it. Put a heart there too.
We built this garden to nourish you.
It's Time you knew.
MDCC so you could be aware, 1700
is the count in the air. Adding
LXXVI to the mix.
That gives us the rest of the 76.
A year we call our independence.
56 signed, in gentle One.ness.
Giving us the Chance to be. All This.
They left a CC, on the note, with a kiss. XX
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Illuminati (plural of Latin illuminatus, "enlightened") is a name that refers to several
groups, both historical and modern, and both real and fictitious.
This movement was founded on May 1, 1776
The year 1776 is celebrated by the United States of America as the official beginning of
its nationhood. 1776, or MDCCLXXVI, is the number shown at the bottom of the pyramid on
the American dollar bill, and on the tablet held by the Statue of Liberty.
July 4 is the 185th day of the year (186th in leap years) in the Gregorian calendar. There
are 180 days remaining until the end of the year. Aphelion, the point in the year when the
Earth is farthest from the Sun, occurs around this date.
Wiki.
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Form:
Kyiv, cultural hub of Eastern Europe
ancestral home of ancient Slavs
bombardment implacable
by the Russian tyrant's corps
a despot dismissing Ukraine's nationhood
a democratic thrust
shackling Ukraine for its wheat wealth
and mineral gain
marching black boots, green tanks that roll
demands for political control
when free will's deemed a provocation
love of country
love of freedom
Ukrainians fight onslaught, relentless
inestimable courage
'gainst the Russian foe, its war crimes with a
molten flow
while the West slips to a sanctions blow
pilgrimage of military ware
media clips of Ukrainian children, women, the frail
mass flee through rubble, shell shocked
a trek that strips the soles of feet
from Russian air strikes
an indiscriminate killing
humanitarian crisis overflow
"War of annihilation!" Ukraine's president cries
blood soaked strife
by the Russian bear in cagey deception
quest of domination
arched back of aggression
a world order dissolving
in the violent pitch of chaos
people shredded like cheap currency
their mythic status to fight on
to salvage freedom's shank of gold
too many "why's" to answer for
nimble evasions
should the west look away from
rattling war's expansive cage
Poem composed: March 18, 2022
Cornwall is almost an island,
Thanks to the river Tamar and the sea,
Its indigenous inhabitants are us Cornish and
We Cornish are a nation - and will always be.
Kernow (Cornwall) boasts its own:
Parliament and laws home grown,
Flag, anthem and crest with fifteen bezants,
Cornish Pasty and Oggy Oggy chants,
Patron Saint and noble Kings,
National bird with its black chough wings,
Unifying tagline of ‘One And All’,
Cornish wrestling and silver hurling ball,
Ethnic Minority status, Unique DNA,
Cornish language still spoken today,
Nationhood recognised worldwide,
Facts are facts and the facts can’t hide.
We embrace our British neighbours
For we are part of the UK team,
But we Cornish are a Nation
And we have always been.
Westminster chooses to ignore this fact,
Let it relent and admit its shame,
For whilst the truth beats in Cornish hearts,
A nation – we shall remain…
The seeds of self-destructive strife
Were sown soon after drums and fifes
Extolled success from breaking free
From Britain's aristocracy.
The Constitution's writ accedes
Peculiar Institution's needs:
Proportional House seats would be
Increased counting slave property.
Cross purposes within the cloth
Of nationhood revealed the moth
That slowly raveled fine knit strands
Exposing North and South demands.
Decades of wrongs in faint disguise
Betrayed the truth and broke the ties
That bound the states within one cause
And shattered order, faith and laws.
When reason failed to parlay peace
The rift would steadily increase
And split the nation into spheres
With fighters formed from extant fears.
North claiming states could not secede
Waged Civil War against that creed.
South claiming states had rights innate
Then waged a War Between the States.
Long years saw men in Blue and Gray
Lay lifeless forms by path and way
As armies swarmed then crept from fights
And Death employed its solemn rites.
When South drove north exposing flaws
So foreign States would join its cause,
The North held ground forcing retreat
And quashed Rebellion's last entreat.
And, proclaimed end to slavery,
The by-product of strategy,
Emancipates morality
To confront past ignominy.
The storm clouds of impending fate
From intervention dissipate
And war grinds to a bloody halt
With thousands dead as a result.
The Union came to be maintained
With frightful cost of life sustained
Granting renewal to recast stakes,
Haunted by ghosts of past mistakes.
While time would try to heal these wounds,
Those deep cut scars to this day loom.
From tribulation life resumed:
The body politic exhumed.
So much promise "Green White Green"
So resplendent were you as the;
Union Jack was being lowered and
The Green White Green as foisted
That glorious evening of
The First of October, 1960
So much promise, Green White Green
From the North to the South were you cheered
The East and the South also cheered you.
You were a symbol of nationhood so craved.
Partitioned in 1884 in Berlin a destiny created
Amalgamated the Lord Lugard "Niger area"
a coinage
An Amalgamated so despised by by all
Yet Green White Green Nigeria carved by destiny
Still trying to come to grips with its destiny
Ethnic colourations a parallel across the Niger area.
(Written 10th of March, 2015)
(It was 1860 when the English poet Robert Browning
stumbled upon an interesting artefact as he walked
through the city of Florence. It was a file of documents
from an old Italian criminal trial, and he would turn
this material into his masterpiece, "The Ring and the
Book".)
The Old Square Yellow Book
It was the kind of day they call a "stallion"
in Florence, with white sun, surpassing strong.
And it was noon. (In June, to be precise.)
The Englishman came strolling aimlessly
(or was it?) through Piazza San Lorenzo.
And, just as now, a market crammed the square
and foamed around the statue's marble plinth.
Here, plaster busts, there, flaking picture-frames,
and Garibaldi portraits (way back then,
in eighteen-sixty, they were giving birth:
Italian nationhood was in the air).
The tall "inglese", drawn towards the stall
which offered prints and books, picked something up.
He shouted "shop", and put one lira down.
The book was his. He managed to ignore
the girls, a-squabbling over tasseled shawls,
those burly porters, drenching head and neck
in Giovanni's fountain, braying mules,
cacophony and chaos all around,
to read his book. His blood knew, right away.
At last, he'd found the raw material
from which he'd quarry one great masterpiece.
One foot propped on the railing, near the step
which leads down to the fountain by the church,
he read, engrossed. Then, with a sudden laugh,
he threw it in the air, and caught it, safe.
What was it? Well, a book - but more than that.
It was the record of some long-dead trial,
some murder case of many years before,
with statements, pleadings, longhand notes. In this
authentic tangle lay a human tale
of fierce emotion, rich psychology,
if he could tease it out. So off he set,
re-reading as he walked, feeling his way,
along the narrow Giglio, then the broad
Panzani. Via Tornabuoni next,
so long and straight, down to the river.
He passed the Strozzi Palace, crossed the bridge
they call the Trinita. When he reached home,
the cool Felice, there was not a doubt.
His whole life's labour lay there, in his hands.
We’re never uncivil,
But sewage, it’s raw,
Pumped over the innocent.
It’s displayed and sprayed
Over every infant.
We’re uncivil all the time.
We’re never unschooled,
But the teaching is stopped,
Taken from kid’s minds.
It’s hidden and forbidden,
Every child is blind.
We’re unschooled all the time.
We’re never immoral,
But justifying a rape
Of a five year old boy,
The kid is blamed, is shamed
For being a toy.
We’re immoral all the time.
We’re never unjust,
That woman who got raped,
Raped by a guard,
Is locked in a cell, a living hell,
Stands alone in the prison yard.
We’re unjust all the time.
Each day we hurt and violate,
We remove and isolate,
We turn our nationhood from fair
To despair,
We create distrust and disgust,
We need to be civil, schooled, moral and just.
Last call for alcohol, embargo
on the cargo headed for Fargo?
Bootlegging articles of?
"ConfederationNow",
Boot logger, droned Over all? Foggered... Froggers, sprawled. Farms attacked by competing vows. ++
Blood drained Cows.
Imagine, Gaia hype- our brainwashing, a
sacrifice to a Paul Bunyan Nephilim type, "Savior" moonshining wormwood tea in exchange for Sheep. Believing them to be. Stoned blind in Texas, right wing.
Liquid Media medicinals, points for eveyone West of, Diagonal the Allegheny, best of show, suggestion,
allegiant, allegory. (Oh...allegedly.)
As The King of the North fights zombies that believe the Game of Thrones just fantasy. Conspiracy_ Storytellers of propagandolf, minds of Sauron to keep
eyes Wide-Shut. By Aristocracy.
To "pass" on the proof of those stoned blind in Texas, shekeled, bought, brought a Rose, of Sharon,
from Ticked Karen's, in their own Eden.
Those non-Citizens,
"Christians of the un-Enlightened" l"unacy of Old',
thoughts? NoahmadicHeathens!
Of the tide turning; going South.
The dark side of the moon,
a journey scape of wet dreams in swoon.
To partake the half empty side of drink.
Salt of thirsts.
Cup of wrath of the Directional Winds.
A piracy bloodbath of Nationhood in martyred demarcation zones.
Cusp of swilling blood of the swill,
Apocalyptic feel, fills,
notes of the unveiling of the Whore who Rides the Beast on the Seven Seas. Leviathan is leavened,
rising, ready to eat.
Now, there is censorship on speech on the internet,
then is, when, is then en-Tyrely.
The Gatekeepers at Fallens keep,
keeping freedom, voices "Crying in the Wilderness"',
Peeps out of reach.
Accept for Government (entities) with algorithms, keyloggers, identity id thieves, imagers of the Beast.
Spell binders binding
their articles-of-New-World-Sourcery-Cheaping-Rumpelstiltskin-Seamstitchery-Tailoring-Truth- blinding-digital-mining-slaves for the Wolves,
Kings of the East, Trading Company.
Trading souls for an hour with the Beast.