Long Nativity Poems
Long Nativity Poems. Below are the most popular long Nativity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nativity poems by poem length and keyword.
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
Haiku Translations II
Illuminated by the harvest moon
smoke is caught creeping
across the water...
Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fanning its tail flamboyantly
with every excuse of a breeze,
the peacock!
Masaoki Shiki, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Waves row through the mists
of the endless sea.
Masaoki Shiki, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
I hurl a firefly into the darkness
and sense the enormity of night.
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
As girls gather rice sprouts
reflections of the rain ripple
on the backs of their hats.
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch
Unaware it protects
the hilltop paddies,
the scarecrow seems useless to itself.
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Ebb-tide:
everything we stoop to collect
slips through our fingers ...
—Chiyo-ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fading memories
of summer holidays:
the closet’s last floral skirt...
—Michael R. Burch
Scandalous tides,
removing bikinis!
—Michael R. Burch
Haughty moon,
when did I ever trouble you,
insomnia’s co-conspirator!
—Michael R. Burch
Ascendance Transcendence
by Michael R. Burch
Breaching the summit
I reach
the horizon’s last rays.
Moore or Less
by Michael R. Burch
for Richard Moore
Less is more —
in a dress, I suppose,
and in intimate clothes
like crotchless hose.
But now Moore is less
due to death’s subtraction
and I must confess:
I hate such redaction!
no foothold
by michael r. burch
there is no hope;
therefore i became invulnerable to love.
now even god cannot move me:
nothing to push or shove,
no foothold.
so let me live out my remaining days in clarity,
mine being the only nativity,
my death the final crucifixion
and apocalypse,
as far as the i can see ...
The Red State Reaction
by Michael R. Burch
Where the hell are they hidin’
Sleepy Joe Biden?
And how the hell can the bleep
Do so much, in his SLEEP?
Red State Reject
by Michael R. Burch
I once was a pessimist
but now I’m more optimistic
ever since I discovered my fears
were unsupported by any statistic.
Keywords/Tags: haiku, nature, moon, water, sea, night, rain, dark, memories, tides, insomnia
White Christmas is not what many people think it is
As we know Christmas is a lively annual festival
Celebrated seven days before the end of the year
Of the Nativity of Jesus. Christmas is a joyful, colorful
And wonderful feast, where stars glow and glisten.
People who live not too far from the cold North Pole
Always dream of a snowy or white Christmas
Where Mother Nature is frosted and crystallized
And the streets are paved with black or clear ice.
Christmas is celebrated by billions across the universe
It is a major festival of hope, happiness and lights
Northerners often dream of a very cold or snowy Christmas
Which brings powerful nostalgic feelings of yesteryear
When children used to listen.
Nowadays, Christmas is multicultural and highly colorful
Bing Crosby wrote of a ‘White Christmas’ for everybody
Living in the world, where imagination brings Hope, Noël,
Yule and Joy, regardless of the religion, creed, gender or race.
Copyright © December, 2023, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Blanca Navidad No Lo Es
Blanca Navidad no es lo que mucha gente piensa que es
Como sabemos, la Navidad es una animada fiesta anual
Que muchos festejan siete días antes de fin del año
La Natividad de Jesús. La Navidad es una fiesta
Que es alegre, colorida y maravillosa, donde las estrellas brillan.
Personas que viven no muy lejos del frío Polo Norte
Sueñan siempre de una Blanca o Nevada Navidad
Donde la madre naturaleza está congelada y cristalizada
Y las calles pavimentadas con hielo transparente o ngro.
Millones de personas en todo el universo celebran la Navidad
Que es una gran fiesta de esperanza, de felicidad y de luces
Los norteños suelen soñar con una Navidad muy fría
Lo que trae poderosos sentimientos nostálgicos de antaño
Cuando los niños solían escuchar.
Hoy en día, la Navidad es multicultural y llena de color
Bing Crosby escribió de una "Blanca Navidad" para todos
Que viven en un mundo donde la imaginación trae esperanza
Festividad y alegría, sin importar la religión, credo, género o raza.
PD Traducción de ‘White Christmas Is Not’ por Hébert Logerie
Copyright © diciembre de 2023, Hébert Logerie, todos los derechos reservados.
Hébert Logerie es autor de varias colecciones de poemas.
The Gift of Christmas
Some people say Christmas in this present time
Wanders lost
Through flashing ads and tinsel carelessly strung
On an artificial bough.
Some people say the Spirit of Christmas
Lives no more -
The simple Christ Child’s birth
Coldly mocked by glittering commercials
For diamond rings and robot toys.
Some say our plastic credit cards
Bring shame to one, who, born so poor,
Wore no fancy clothes
Or even slept in a cradle of his own.
Some say a Christian world forgets
The simple song of angel praise and shepherd lambs
In hustle crowds who only hum
Atonal harmony in green cash jingles
Some people say that Christ remains absent
From our Christmas celebrations
So lost we get in buying –
So drunk we get with wine.
Yet, I see his star rise up again
In children’s faith, eyes aglow with awe,
Reflecting wonder back into the darkest night
The miracle of the Christmas story.
I watch a callous world
Retell Nativity
Then remember little acts of kindness
From a neighbor, or a friend,
In homemade thank you cards
Of cookies, cakes or ornaments.
The Yuletide air overflows with scents of sugarplums -
Pungent cloves, nutmeg sweet
And aromatic cinnamon -
A gift of time given to baking memories
In sweet spice with children.
Music fills the world again,
To herald
Carols dancing in our hearts,
“Joy to the world!” the lyrics say,
“Joy to the world! The Lord has come!”
Each year I watch the world
Stretch out a loving hand of help
To strangers shivering in the cold,
To those who live alone -
To ones with rags for clothes
And families who face each day
Empty cupboard shelves –
Whose children would be strangers
To the joy of Christmas morn
If not for hearts and hands
Of women and of men
Who bring the Magi’s gifts to poverty again.
I see this cynical world
So closely guard the spirit of this time
A world of Santa Claus’ asks no gratitude
For countless days of aching feet
Crowded streets
And traffic jams.
Their love returns a hundredfold,
Through smiles and gasps of childlike glee,
To nestle beneath boughs of evergreen
When the dawning light opens up the givers joy
Spreading across a silent world
A message sprung from hope’s own heart
Born with a baby boy.
12-2-22
Contest: Christmas Spirit Poetry
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
It was on a cold night in Bethlehem that hope was born
A babe lay in a manger as angels sang joyfully
Above the nativity a star shone casting bright light
Guiding the paths of three wise men to welcome our Savior
As shepherds flocked toward the illuminated holy site
The warmth from within still touches the hearts of all mankind
In remembrance we pray for harmony among mankind
As we celebrate the first Christmas, optimism born
In the Mideast soldiers bow down, recalling this wondrous site
For just one night thoughts of war fade, hearts are filled joyfully
They lay down weapons, focusing on the birth of our Savior
As they huddle together, sharing good will by camp light
In many parts of the world, homes illuminated by light
Peace touches the hearts of those who seek blessings for mankind
Church bells ring, signaling the arrival of our Savior
Souls are touched as the restoration of joy is now born
Worshippers proceed to mass, sharing greetings joyfully
If only each day could be filled with such a loving site
How welcome to see the sun rise each day on such a site
Hearts abounding with humanity from our inner light
With angels in each of us sharing good will joyfully
If I live to see such days, I’ll have new hope for mankind
Trust and faith would emanate, celebrating a Child born
A Child, a Leader Who would give His life as a Savior
Cast aside the trappings, focus only on our Savior
Keep in mind this first Christmas, a blessed and holy site
How wonderful it would be to see new harmony born
Differences seem petty as we revel in God’s light
Join me in expectations for the future of mankind
Like the seraphs let us sing out in hymns so joyfully
Make our future one that finds families praying joyfully
No greater inspiration than the birth of our Savior
From a Blessed Mother’s womb sprang a babe to save mankind
Let us be wise men, finding cause to worship at this site
War and hatred cannot exist within God’s holy light
Acceptance of each man’s worth can in joyful hearts be born
Raise your hearts, revel joyfully in our Savior’s glory
In cheer mankind recalls the site of a manger at night
Where neath a star’s light was born a King, the Son of our Lord
* Sestina written for the "Joy to the World" contest.
I had a talk with god today,
I had to share what he had to say.
He told me of the simple truth,
Our selfish way's will make us lose.
For this gift of life he has given us,
Such a wonderous thing this valued trust.
The very thing's we take for granted,
Our life , our uniqueness,
our strength's to us he handed.
He meant for us to give unselfishly
to continue living.
NOT By destroying other's
to achiecve our selfish bidding,
For this world ,this life goes
so much further then us.
It's in sharing his love,
faith,and hope in our nativity cusp.
It's much easier to give graciously ,
And much harder to take so selfishly.
If we'd share the abundant love within ,
Our world would be as in heaven
and not the hell in which we're living.
Why do we torment ourselves for decietful gain.
Causing our own stress and all this pain?
We all know we're meant to love and to give.
Instilled within god hoped we'd abide by and by this we'd live.
We've forgotten the knowledge god put in our mind.
That would solve the suffering we continue to fight.
If all would see past themselves and beyond.
Give and help each other is how this world would live on.
But we choose to cling to our selfishness .
And live by greed and all this lust.
The hope ,faith human trust would rebuild in all we seek to trust.
Acheiving power by giving and ending all greed.
Is all this world desires and it's all we need.
What he gave to us whole heartedly.
And shown to us unselfishly.
That this power is to give
and in that is to live.
But thus we choose to live to destroy and deprive.
And god's truth We never see until the day we die,
The very love he bestowed on all of us,
Was given to all and all he's cares and loves.
He had a vision in his heart for us you see,
His plan was that we'd give the gift he given both you and me .
I give the gift of word's he gave to me.
I put them on paper for all to see.
I say again he told me so,
So listen intently for all must know.
He had no selfish desires when he made all woman and man .
All he asked was To cherish each other and all we have and that was his only plan .
See it's so easy to live simply by this
God spoken to me these word's are his.
Written by :Rhonda Zitelman
Form:
Ah, the fortitude of a circle
the circular wisdom
of spring to summer fall to winter
the spinning wheel’s twist of threads -
at once both self-reliant and reliant
my soul to embryo seed to seedling
the mettle it takes for the genesis;
for my poppy pod to wake and break
a tiny speck of matter a fleck of duality unleashed
I surrender my dormancy to the earth -
roots reach deep like pale squiggly fingers
..for my kernel was laid to rest to bustle to life..
while my headstrong head pushes up through the soil
I come to be.. like a new idea taking shape
a physical being grounded
while seeking the realm of the Sun
the source of spirit as essential
as the dark womb from which I emerge
with a heart budding with the universe from nothing
I sprout as a sprig from a rounded grain
conceived in a gold-dusted flurry of furry buzz..
a bumblebee's dalliance with the center of a whorl
a mote of pollen so mite-like -- but
m i g h t y
in purpose potential and power
woven together in the art of creation
wind-driven autumn rains and sips of melted snow
..mother’s milk during the passage of time..
sweetly feeds the gentle needs for my tender birth
daystar’s dabble-dance with shadows
charm the chill from the cradle of the garden floor -
warm ginger dapples flit to find me between
canopy gaps in swish and sway..
mini-spots mirroring the disk of the Sun reminds me;
the image of what I’ll become
when my solar heart shines in a petal-chalice of flame..
rapture stirs the layers of humus
penetrating my essence with a ripening
stoking my fortitude to fulfill my destiny
to break free of that which holds me down
and reach ever higher inspired by a promise;
the golden circle of solace.. the bull's-eye in the sky
whose glow does kiss and grow my soul -
my inner space of bright sure to blaze
in a blossom cup’s confinement
my soul to embryo seed to seedling
sown to assure my flowering
my earthy ascension fulfills Nature’s cycle of nativity;
above the loam I rise to unfurl
and lift my airy leaves’ uncurl up high
in praise of the light
as the end of a gray season curves
into the festive yellow equinox of resurgence
Just?
look, at YOU now, self righteous, you know YOUR rites best.
You have much to celebrate.
Celebrate diversity, the joy of
sex in the city.
Make it,
YOU, at your behest,
the center of your Universe.
Where only a black hole resides, and your own worst enemy?
Hyde's.
It's not lonely there.
There's
YOU!
That's all right dearest.
Party like it's 2 0 1 9.
After all, everything you have and are is because of being free and solitary.
To thine own self be true!
A self propogating gene of Genie
Is only rubbed out when it's convenient for YOU.
Live like a con-gypsy
under Gaias loving gaze of nativity.
As you sweep the wind beneath your wings and batten down the sails,
a treasure hunting pirate on life's seven seas'swells.
Through the river Styx,
Flotsam, Jetsam
mental living, Hell?
Some things are meant to be.
Like milk and honey.
But not according to "do what thou will"
It is a suicide into lonely.
Drunkenness into endless sleep.
Although, they call the new aged Kool Aid,
harmless wine.
I see,
that it matches fine;
with neurosis,
scerosis of inclusion,
invader intrusion, plucked from narcissistic vines. Tended by demon.
From the Forest of delusion.
Pairs well with the thorns of Night.
Take a sip of that self hypnosis.
Does it go down smooth? Or does it have a kick?
Then kick your **** on down the line.
Off your booth, in Life.
Ritually drunk and now, suddenly divine at your own behest.
A little bit of courage, right?
Something to take the edge off,
the edge of night?
Regret.
Sugar on the brain that foments its fermentation over time.
Is it Godless or Goddess ambrosia?
A poultice tea for the sick?
A placebo innoculation against lack of faith?
Selfishness in self paranoia,
Just for your sake.
A dark principality and clever mind-
Vampirism-Medicating prophylactively against
the stake, like an aneurism.
Those pesky ghosts of darkness.
In the blood.
Possess your sconces, wick and flame, dead.
Seek to destroy, the lightbringing.
Your senses dampened,
fuse blown
guard down.
Darkness.
Integrity bled.
On the Rampage.
Rampant.
Their Entrance.
Gained instead.
Santa arrived on our street yesterday
spewing considerable exhaust
while riding atop a parade of firetrucks and vans,
floodlit like a nativity display at night,
full sirens and blaring Christmas carols
competing for my Fetal Alcohol daughter's rapt attention.
Santa rolls at stately parade pace,
while ever more impatiently
my troubled daughter jumps and eagerly awaits to pounce.
For me,
much too soon
Santa spots her leaning out our screen door,
disembarks with great royal dignitary pace
to walk the long quest for prey
on our front porch.
As I feared,
after an unconvincing HoHoHo?,
without waiting for introductions,
Santa goes straight to his task at hand:
What do you want for Christmas, little girl?
I don't know
Haven't thought about it.
I'm sure it's not a stinky and loud Santa parade.
Anyway, I'm still working on what I'm giving for Christmas.
That's awesome.
I don't hear a lot of that.
It's not awesome!
It's complicated!
My dad said I should only give gifts that by giving them
I will also receive more gifts.
I'm not sure I have any gifts like that.
Last year you asked for an American Girl doll.
Yes, but this year I'm working on giving American Princess me,
instead of settling for your plastic dolls.
Won't you need costuming and make-up
to become the All American princess?
You would think so,
but my dad says they don't meet his gift-it-forward
to receive back rule.
So what do you think you're going to get,
or give,
or both, I guess?
although Santa's feeling confused about co-redemptive gifts,
and I do still have far to go.
And you left your truck idling.
I'm leaning toward kindness,
'cause princesses are always kind,
but my dad is asking for greater wisdom,
which is something he actually does need.
And I know you don't have any to offer
or you wouldn't begin and end Christmas
by asking people what they want,
instead of asking us what we have to give
that might make life feel a little less snarky
come New Year's Day.
Santa returned to his royal firetruck
somewhat faster than he had arrived
on my wise American princess daughter's front porch.
Resurrection
Rise above the swirling waters dark recess.
Rise from deep within the water’s pounding press.
Slowly rise above the centered womb
While tossed by storms
And spun by icy currents;
Break through the surface tension
Inch slowly, with measured rhythm
Through black, to blue to aqua light
And reach with tiny, outstretched, fingers
To the warm, the ever lightening sun of life –
Magnetic, gentle beacon
Of the ascending dawn.
Come! Lift above the surface swell
Escape the tight, restraining bonds;
Climb above the grasping waves;
Rise above the streams of earth
To hear the calling sun
Sing enchanting melody while deep within nativity
A tiny heart responds in love to love;
Quietly slip into the air
Before the waters know you escape
To softly hum in harmony;
Seed of winter
Transcend the wondrous scenes of trees and sky
Of aspen, jay, of color – freedom’s hue -
But do not linger in this finite place,
Stretch for light more bright,
More distant, than this enchanted palace
To soar above the envious bonds of earth
Running free before the channels of the air.
Still higher fly! Lighter –
Seeking oneness with the soaring song
Heard within the waters surging depths;
Rise into the space where torrents gather
Into spiraling circles.
So cold this dwelling,
So cold their breath,
So cold their hands,
So like the blackness of the waters.
Gone the light! Gone the love to love!
The softly singing cradle song vanishes!
Listen. Listen to the murmuring winds
Lay their hands upon the turbulence
Within the stormy crucible.
Be still now. Wait –
Wait among these misty clouds
To bear the signature rewritten
Here in metamorphosis
And singing full the melody, so distantly heard
Deep within the water womb,
See the whiteness – crystalline –
Unique and set apart from commonality,
Released from clouds of swirling storms
Spinning on the whispering breath of morning
To softly fall so light and breathless,
Flower of the winter rose
Through which the sun reflects a sparkling dawn
That drew the birthright from the water’s frozen energy
To rise again,
To ever sing creation’s primal round.