Long Nile Poems
Long Nile Poems. Below are the most popular long Nile by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nile poems by poem length and keyword.
Let not the pain of death enter my body
I the Pharaoh, son of the gods
Here my wife, who is the daughter of the Nile
The daughter of Isis sits beside my throne,
Is she not beautiful?
I live and roam the abode of the gods,
In eternity I stay with the majesties
Of the immortal gods
Mortality has no hold of me
I alone carry the staff of Osiris,
Behold! I judge thy weight of the heart,
With that of the golden feather
Thoth that measures thy heart shall tell me of thy heart’s content.
If I find thy heart lighter than the feather;
And find thy honesty,
I shall let you enter the heaven of the gods and goddesses.
If not, then, a beast to devour thee, waits for the dishonest.
Know me by my throne, made of gold
I am cloth with ornaments made of jade and sapphire,
White silk of clothing, with jewels from faraway lands.
Anyone that dear look down upon me shall die
And those that despise me, shall fine their homes burned down,
with fires from heaven.
Who am I? I have asked thee
Look at Anubis, the son of Nephthys bringer of death.
Do you await him to bring me great sorrow?
Shall he warp me with a yard of cloth?
Shall I find peace in death and my fate be judge by him?
If so, I have a place among them.
My afterlife is in paradise, their awaits a bundle of joy
With music of the immortal, with harps, lutes, lyres
And servants to tend to my every need.
But even if I die, the weight of mine own heart, shall be as light as a feather.
For I know mine own honesty.
As I sail across the sandbank of Apophis,
I have my guide, Ra, the god of the sun to light my path
No monstrous serpent of chaos shall wreck his boat,
The boat in which, I am in.
So, I ask thee, traveler from the west
What is thy business with a god?
Look at my palace, is it not magnificent?
Has is not, the decoration and flowers that surpasses all human designs?
I have built these with rocks
Sands was the foundation of my legacy,
Shall all things compare to that of the past days?
I carry the burden of my glory, and yes, it is heavy.
But will such foundation as the sand be strong enough to hold against the tide?
Love is abiding that is true, but only in those who welcomes it.
My love for my beautiful wife, oh! How well have I been treated
With love from her is better than any pleasure a man can have.
Faithful to the gods or my wife? That I know not.
Here comes my father;
“Sheikh Al-Arab.”
My mother made him, also, tea with milk and “gargoosh.”
Now, time to fill “al-azyar” (water clay-containers);
They are under the two huge trees in front of our house.
Their waters are “sabeel,” for everyone passing by;
Might be going to, or coming from, Moslab’s boat.
Might be going to, or coming from, Dirar’s shop.
“Sheikh Al-Arab” fills “al-azyar” from the “toromba” (water-pump).
His children are glad to help;
Excited by the “toromba”:
Its handle makes a musical sound as it goes up and down.
Its water is clear.
And it beats brining water from the Nile.
---------
Here goes Abdul-Hameed;
Leaving to his farm.
Riding his old weak gray donkey;
Holding his lunch bag.
Probably bread and dates;
Probably hard-boiled eggs;
Probably leftover from last night dinner.
He already had breakfast;
His wife made him, also, tea with milk and “gargoosh.”
The donkey’s lunch will be grass from the field
The donkey’s lunch will be fresh.
---------
Here comes Nafeesa;
Leaving the “zareeba” (animals’ shelter).
Today, her goats were generous;
Lots of milk.
Her husband and children are waiting;
Time for tea with milk and “gargoosh.”
Her dog accompanied her to the “zareeba”;
And back from the “zareeba.”
But, no tea, no milk, and no “gargoosh”;
Probably an old bone.
Only when Nafeesa’s husband slaughters a lamb;
“Kibda” (kidney) for breakfast.
And lots of meat for everyone.
And for the dog.
And for other village’s dogs.
---------
Here comes Widad and her four children;
Carrying one, and three behind her.
They are going to “jiddo” (grandfather);
They will all have tea and milk and “gargoosh.”
“Jiddo” is waiting and it is getting late;
Widad will feed them all
They walk hurriedly in the dirt street;
Dust arises behind them.
Two children walk barefoot;
The lucky third has old slippers.
Two children wear few clothes;
The lucky third looks better.
“Jiddo” is waiting; more speed; more dust.
---------
Here comes Khadeeja;
The little thin girl, carrying a plate.
She is going to Zahra’s house;
Zahra makes “zalabiya” (fried dough balls).
There will be Zainab, Alawiya, and Fatima;
All sitting on the ground, around the “saj” (big wood-fire fry-pan).
All almost sleep;
All patiently waiting;
Zahra’s “zalabiya” is cooking.
---------
(to be continued) .....
You made up your mind to view the world
With different eyes —eyes recessed, eyes inundated with lustre,
Straining to catch every flight of the dancing seasons that hurled
Man and beast beyond frontiers with baluster.
You are the town-crier of our time, delivering messages printed on banners
That hail the energy of the heated earth.
What a voice you possess! So smooth and euphonious, it rings loud and clear
With the gumption of a king’s augurer, leaving behind manners
That haunt us pleasantly with bliss and mirth,
Suggesting frantically the suavity of a seer
Journalism has come to judgement, fragmented by words and the eloquence
Of time and grace. Are you not equal to the task?
The world admits you certainly are! And with supreme relevance
Your disciples are many, Dear one, flaunting the mask
Of imitation — they litter the world like tiny red beads flung and scattered
Beyond boundaries stretching from sea to coast
You are a lover of words, speaking with valour even on the arcades
Of fright, charming viewers with the powers of gathered
Attention when rainy nights and dewy mornings boast
Loudly of integrated existence of cascades
An anointed raconteur you are, reeling off tale after tale
By moonlight of cosseted playgrounds
I assume you frequented gatherings, prelapsarian, on a scale
So great that the sage spoke on select backgrounds
How do you do it?
Do you burn candles with scented tallow, and without
Need of a flint —thus reluming primitively dark alleyways?
You are the light that shines on tenebrous path and grit,
Revealing fey monsters responsible for the drought
That burned the pennants of truth posted on archways.
I never before knew an institution of mass communication
Until the bright age of running news crowned your labours
By way of a universally attended coronation
The world attributes to you the favours
Of heavens and caverns of Eudemons.
Arise, Dear One, arise and claim your special flair,
Make noise with the reeds of the Nile and dance gracefully
As you dine on stewed cinnamons
Rest assured you’re deeply blessed, Dear one with a dare;
I assure you mightily, speaking faithfully.
Next of Kin
She had never been taught the trick.
To the men such things were granted.
Air filled pelts, breath under water.
To the women was left the nest.
Near ashore she saw them panic.
Her father among them scrambling.
All overboard clutching bubbles.
With chilled heart she waded in deep.
The river rose swift over head,
but what could one see inside it?
Living shadow, curious beings.
Frightened hands did lose the surface.
Writhing desperate seeking soul,
chest bursting, inflamed with fate,
she ceased to struggle, resigning.
No more sound but mothers calling.
They heft her aboard grins forming.
Quaking limbs of wet ebony,
the Nile had delivered a jewel.
An able kick freed the water.
Eyes tight, she curled as a fetus.
Then covered with appraising hands,
in lustful chorus of strokes and jeers,
Insistent prods displayed her gifts.
A fine catch fit for the priming.
But pleasing to God, It ends there.
A word of one voice repelled them.
This voice offered hands that cradled,
and kiss moist cloth to cover dried eyes
stung red from the strain of dying.
Twice saved, survival's heart still pounds.
Her health did come in one new moon.
Put to task she oiled the wood planks.
Always watching that merry one.
Who, tending others as herself
with whispers in the others tongue,
so wild of hair and lengthily,
seemed a contradicting body.
For crew, song, frolic, constant talk;
for hers, hymns of healing murmured.
And for the newly captured prey
she talked away the crude of mind.
Why they obeyed one such as I?,
was wondered on that rolling barge.
She learned the trick and many more,
through moon and stars and sun down gold.
Schooled by her sister half in blood,
they blew new life into cub skins.
They tied them to the men waist round,
who dove in long to find lost spoils.
In want of that sustaining breath,
they pulled from bubbles left afloat.
My father's home - she’d smile at ease
when eve they rest hid from the sun.
That merry one in silence waits,
for the land is scrolling by now.
Her serenades now prayerful sighs,
as they’re rowing out for dealing.
Strong ordered hands do sever them.
Half in blood, they’d stood together.
Her eyes were full of want to tell,
but the living tells it better
Amazing Animals in Art
Next of Kin
She had never been taught the trick.
To the men such things were granted.
Air filled pelts, breath under water.
To the women was left the nest.
Near ashore she saw them panic.
Her father among them scrambling.
All overboard clutching bubbles.
With chilled heart she waded in deep.
The river rose swift over head,
but what could one see inside it?
Living shadow, curious beings.
Frightened hands did lose the surface.
Writhing desperate seeking soul,
chest bursting, inflamed with fate,
she ceased to struggle, resigning.
No more sound but mothers calling.
They heft her aboard grins forming.
Quaking limbs of wet ebony,
the Nile had delivered a jewel.
An able kick freed the water.
Eyes tight, she curled as a fetus.
Then covered with appraising hands,
in lustful chorus of strokes and jeers,
Insistent prods displayed her gifts.
A fine catch fit for the priming.
But pleasing to God, It ends there.
A word of one voice repelled them.
This voice offered hands that cradled,
and kiss moist cloth to cover dried eyes
stung red from the strain of dying.
Twice saved, survival's heart still pounds.
Her health did come in one new moon.
Put to task she oiled the wood planks.
Always watching that merry one.
Who, tending others as herself
with whispers in the others tongue,
so wild of hair and lengthily,
seemed a contradicting body.
For crew, song, frolic, constant talk;
for hers, hymns of healing murmured.
And for the newly captured prey
she talked away the crude of mind.
Why they obeyed one such as I?,
was wondered on that rolling barge.
She learned the trick and many more,
through moon and stars and sun down gold.
Schooled by her sister half in blood,
they blew new life into cub skins.
They tied them to the men waist round,
who dove in long to find lost spoils.
In want of that sustaining breath,
they pulled from bubbles left afloat.
My father's home - she’d smile at ease
when eve they rest hid from the sun.
That merry one in silence waits,
for the land is scrolling by now.
Her serenades now prayerful sighs,
as they’re rowing out for dealing.
Strong ordered hands do sever them.
Half in blood, they’d stood together.
Her eyes were full of want to tell,
but the living tells it better
Amazing Animals in Art
Next of Kin
She had never been taught the trick.
To the men such things were granted.
Air filled pelts, breath under water.
To the women was left the nest.
Near ashore she saw them panic.
Her father among them scrambling.
All overboard clutching bubbles.
With chilled heart she waded in deep.
The river rose swift over head,
but what could one see inside it?
Living shadow, curious beings.
Frightened hands did lose the surface.
Writhing desperate seeking soul,
chest bursting, inflamed with fate,
she ceased to struggle, resigning.
No more sound but mothers calling.
They heft her aboard grins forming.
Quaking limbs of wet ebony,
the Nile had delivered a jewel.
An able kick freed the water.
Eyes tight, she curled as a fetus.
Then covered with appraising hands,
in lustful chorus of strokes and jeers,
Insistent prods displayed her gifts.
A fine catch fit for the priming.
But pleasing to God, It ends there.
A word of one voice repelled them.
This voice offered hands that cradled,
and kiss moist cloth to cover dried eyes
stung red from the strain of dying.
Twice saved, survival's heart still pounds.
Her health did come in one new moon.
Put to task she oiled the wood planks.
Always watching that merry one.
Who, tending others as herself
with whispers in the others tongue,
so wild of hair and lengthily,
seemed a contradicting body.
For crew, song, frolic, constant talk;
for hers, hymns of healing murmured.
And for the newly captured prey
she talked away the crude of mind.
Why they obeyed one such as I?,
was wondered on that rolling barge.
She learned the trick and many more,
through moon and stars and sun down gold.
Schooled by her sister half in blood,
they blew new life into cub skins.
They tied them to the men waist round,
who dove in long to find lost spoils.
In want of that sustaining breath,
they pulled from bubbles left afloat.
My father's home - she’d smile at ease
when eve they rest hid from the sun.
That merry one in silence waits,
for the land is scrolling by now.
Her serenades now prayerful sighs,
as they’re rowing out for dealing.
Strong ordered hands do sever them.
Half in blood, they’d stood together.
Her eyes were full of want to tell,
but the living tells it better
Amazing Animals in Art
FEEL AFRICA
Silence!
Silence Africa!
One can hardly get Africa to be silent;
Africa habours a pulsating bubble.
Everyone in Africa bounces to rhythm resilient.
Africa, like Zambia, or
Zambia, like Africa;
Dear ones, whichever comes first
Swells with energy in the sun!
You see not the pulse;
You feel every ounce.
Feel it now!
Woo! Woo! Is it fun or funny?
Africa loves to dance.
The continent is one huge drum;
One complete dance!
They work hard too.
Mothers and daughters,
Fathers and sons;
Mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law
Of Africa work hard
They fetch water; they collect wood.
They pound corn; they cook their food.
In all their creation,
People of Africa have one ingredient;
SONG!
You hear them sing while pounding corn.
Phew! Phew! Wow!
At funerals we sing and dance,
At weddings, even more song and dance.
Nothing has ever stopped Africa from dancing;
Yes! Even the tragedies we’ve known;
The genocides and ethnic cleansings,
in the heart of the continent.
Apartheid in the Cape of Good Hope;
Starvation, hunger, war;
Famines, droughts and floods
In the great lakes and the horn of Africa!
We have mourned;
We have questioned!
Mmmh! Courage!
Courage is what kept us alive.
We felt like throwing it away;
Accepting defeatist tendencies;
Choose revenge; and hurt;
Not with Africa.
We have come out reassured.
We have emerged tested in fire;
More finer and stronger than before
We can afford to pray!
We are like lions; the pride of the universe.
Our pride lies in our landscapes; the mountains
And the valleys;
the plateaus and the savannahs.
Free flowing rivers,
Connect us with worlds near and far.
We accommodate strangers as our rivers instruct.
Strangers of the Indian and Atlantic Oceans;
The seas and lakes!
They brought the world to us
as they did bring us to the world;
the Zambezi, the Nile and the Congo.
They have made us larger than we have ever been.
We can join in the songs and dances of others
As they can join ours too.
Come join us; feel at home!
Feel Africa!
One Zambia, my dear one;
The little star of copper.
You shine deep in the heart of the continent;
Warming the cold and frightened neighbours!
The blessing you are is the blessing you offer.
You exemplify unity in multiplicity,
Of languages and ethnicity;
Be not afraid copper star.
Shine as bright as you do;
Only warmer!
All rights reserved.
He danced on the decks of tossing ships, danced only for dimes
He danced to the lash and sound of whips, hip moving like dream
And when he reasoned, his words sublime brought heavenly climes
Dance from plantation to Greathouse, dancing in gully and stream
And if we dance again today, he choreographs nuance and fiber
Still; this talented son, this bright native of the Martha Brae River.
He is the twin soul of that Manley, our horizons in the sun
And when at Mona, he taught me how to run with my ton.
O farewell, brother of my brother, mentor that from your distance shape
Me into a patriotic landscape where my children may build, farewell
Sweet intellect; and O may they bring our Mframadan like cloth to drape
Your rest. All your public life was nobly spent, farewell, Rex, farewell!
Your footprints are bright, not castles in sand, from high hills shine
The glory of your days. O Griot, go the bidding now of the Divine
O Blow the abeng now, beat the kumina drum, O village peel
The bells of jubilee again. Aluta Continua, Rex, go take your seal!
Mi mumma band her belly and bawl long time, yai water like rain
Hot like Clarendon springs, and the world like blue mountain mist
So cold, O emptiness, emptiness is such a dread, O such a pain
What shall we do with out hollowness now, and how shall we resist
Again the shackles of injustice, O that there were Marley
To sing this icon into the icon of memory, for all our history
Is but words on a page until we can retrieve the past to right
Today and make tomorrow bright again. He was that light.
Coda
O Kilmanjaro weep! O Timbuctu weep! O Meroe and kujo's clan
Weep for the death of man, a sterling man, a grandiose design
That met its worth in gold in deeds of him. All our life is like sand
Worn from the rock of being by tides and seasons, and no sign
To tell where wind or water carry us, we are blown away
The shadow of the sand is gone, but never cannot decay
It is too immaterial, its presence is like his fragrance here
Bill still O Niger, and you great Nile, I borrow you for a tear.
Star of Sirus
Sparkling brightest
Aligns with the sun in Leo
Night darkest night
All year she’ll await
Bright star so bright
On August eight
Dog days of summer
Rising on the horizon
Nile flood
Taking life away
Lyon hungers for blood
Devouring his prey
Gatekeeper’s trust
Opens the portal
Shades of deepest orange
Evoking energy
Open your heart mortal
Flames of fire scorching
The doorway closes in
Mid-August
Energy in abundance
The lion doesn’t hesitate
Leo the Lion
The fire sign
Courage and pride soar
The lions gate
Confirming presence
Intentions roar
Dominance
Eastern sky
Opportunity awaits
August eighth
Leo’s alliance to the star Sirus
Opening Lionsgate
Sun is in Leo
Enter the higher dimensions
Layers of energy peaks
Opportunist the lion does not hesitate
Enter the Lionsgate at own risk
(A Marriage of Poems)
A single glance is an expression enough
with eyes dotted with its punctual punctuation.
A sigh deep enough in loves' trough
that a trance can turn it blue,
if only a beloved statuesque-
emotion carved cold and true.
Coupled in that in, that love is
in,
ward to toast the cold of emptiness.
To thwart a lonely abyss,
by injection-fjord, Nile, Oasis.
A place inside, hides in love
a place we'd share,
if life breaks in shard
antithesis baring teeth-
that puzzle the lost end-pieces.
So do we be it, as love as it does.
I know the first way,- is honey to my lips;.
My lover has no answer that is removed of this.
No-answer can have any relevance,
be cause we revel unto it's mysterious madness,
roil in the mud of it's effervescence.
There a love is an adventures trove.
One which I must for now only mentally tear,
among Avalon's Mists.
But if no longer the future,
where do I, we go from here?
Has this way known as far;
It has its
sounding board-Shofar in Scale
of Angelic Harpsichord
soothing sorts upon a forlorn Star..
So tell me of more !,
and can I have
its keepsake recollection ?
of my dreams refection,
reflect, deflect, defect for now,
for twice at once my Spirit be.
So that I have a link to my Avalon Witch.
know I`'ll have a new name
in this dark world sea,
till what your soul feels to me.
Is a buoy to a squall,
cool shade on an arid beach.
Your covering, covers everything, but what The Lord
doth to us both bring-in His Mystery,
Magesty.
O Blanketed Mirth,
your security-warns of Spring,
on a coldest winter day you feeds me
by magical Autumnal Whirlwind of otherworld
in Cacophony.
Rebirthed, rich and smokey, stirring,
brewing alchemy.
Astral and Earthy, beginning of a journey.
A canopy at our feet
Light shines on leaves of rose petal
on a cobblestone street.
To give, love -and hope at tease in play.
O but know when a night?is as stark
as this as dark as this.
Then love, you
have your purpose s way.
For in you, my mind can only live the dreams of day.
Expecting your expectant pregnancy.
Deal to me your Trefoil, Diamond of Heart in Spades.
Dig me out of Worldly grave.
Deliver me from solitary singularity.