Long Orient Poems
Long Orient Poems. Below are the most popular long Orient by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Orient poems by poem length and keyword.
MY BELOVED REMOTE
I sat om my remote unit after a tiresome day at work
so tired was i that i let myself go and it broke into two
i am spying our receptionist TD remote with much envy
just lying there on the reception desk no one catering it
remotes very strange gadgets only superficially understood
small but very powerful just watch a man fiddle the gadget
you will realize its a symbol of power an status in social setup
i broke mine humbly i suffer the indignity of a manual system
i have to leave the warmth of my couch blanket and tap loved tv..
the few pitiful buttons are now supposed to substitute my "gadget"
its a gadget of technology whose worth few appreciate till broken
suffering humiliation of punching the four buttons on actual tv set
they have now gone digital migration and a tvs menus reads as thou
its the encyclopedia Britannic we need tutor-age to decipher manual
that's why i keep eyeing TD remote for you never know the day that
i will need a replacement seeing that market is flooded with imitations
the orient guys are flooding the market with cheap fake imitations
driving the lovely gadget to a low life expectancy it suffereth in silence
i love my gadgets and the remote guarding them jealously for loss is grief
to them lazy bones claiming fatigue now being tortured to leave warm 'duve'
Lewis k nyaga
19/01/2015
Form:
In the leys,
The magic lies;
Secrets ancient,
Reveal the prize.
When Earth was born,
Her siblings were too;
And on that morn,
First breath they drew.
A dance lifelong,
Is celestial reel;
The human flaw,
Their fates will seal.
Time travelers pass,
Through black hole fields;
Gathering en masse,
For family meals.
While predators hunt,
With fervent zeal,
Far away, the hunted,
will steal.
Too many times,
The mark is missed;
The arrow flies,
Death does not kiss.
Abundant courage,
It will cease;
When man sees fit,
The leys to read.
Each soul it searches,
For ultimate truth;
Within ley language,
Lay the roots.
Power and wisdom,
Lie in wait;
For all souls who,
Destruction hate.
The ancients learned,
So long ago;
To follow the leys;
Go with the flow.
In the Orient,
A name they gave;
Surely you’ve heard it;
It’s called, “Feng Shui”.
I'm raised by God-fearing parents with loving nurture
along caring gesture midst their tribal culture
endowing me a blessed* stature…
Dearly loved by the Almighty and my family
my personality is grace-nourished with secured redemption blissfully
while Scriptures-upheld and faith-propelled steadfastly…
A forgiven sinner am I, privileged to be a volunteer Bible teacher
beloved sister of three siblings: now are two fathers, and a mother
cheerful care-giver, and a devoted life-builder…
My spirit rejoices in sharing the Gospel of the Saviour Christ
discipling students for character that is virtue-spiced
writing articles and poems, divinely-priced...
Offended am I with my own self-conceit’s engagement
murmuring due to discontentment
as well as hypocrisy-entanglement…
I fear displeasing my King Who deserves my best
wasting time through unwise multi-tasking zest
and becoming a stumbling block in the guise of being honest…
My heart prays to visit Israel in due time
reap spiritual fruits midst harvest chime
feast in ministry rewards of diligence-prime…
Currently, a sojourner am I in the country
of heroic pride according to history's victory
also known as “Pearl of the Orient Seas” around nature’s glory
A beloved** child of God I am, grateful to Him.
*"Blessed" is the meaning of my name.
**Romans 1:7 ... Beloved of God, called to be saints: Grace to you and peace from God our Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ.
Bio in rhyme form
July 10, 2021; edited on August 8, 2021
1st place, "A BRIAN STRAND your pick" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 8/8/2021.
(Sing along to the carol, "We Three Kings...")
We three Kings of Orient aren't,
Really three queens, we came from afar,
We arrived on time,
Fed sheep and swine,
Delivered the afterbirth,
Cooked food, and then made Peace on Earth, Oh......
(Sing Chorus)...
Star of wonder, star of light,
Star of royal beauty bright,
We didn't get lost going home,
We didn't leave Mary all alone,
We swept the stable,
Gave her soup in a ladle,
After the afterbirth,
Then we made Peace on Earth, OH...
(Sing chorus)..
We three Kings of Orient aren't,
Really three queens, we came from afar,
We arrived on time,
Fed sheep and swine,
Delivered the baby at the birth,
Then we made Peace on Earth, Oh....
(Sing chorus)..
"Ang hindi lumingon sa pinanggalingan,
hindi makakarating sa paroroonan".
(A person who does not remember where he came from
will never reach his destination).
Filipino proverb.
Gift me wings so I can fly to a blessed land
of emerald isles with an eclectic ecosystem,
admiring an affluence of biodiversity
of tropical exotic fauna and flora,
where turquoise waves wander onto
golden shores of alluring Binitinan,
exploring the coral reefs of Boracay.
A place where childhood dreams fill the air,
where innocence once built sandcastles,
but now all that is left is forgotten footprints -
from ghosts of ancestors.
Let me soar with the Pithecophaga Jefferyi eagle,
through rainforests and Kawasan falls,
where souls are free to roam the motherland's
seven thousand spine-tingling islands,
from Maya bay to Palawan's underground rivers
of enigmatic Puerta Princesa,
until we greet the palm trees of Camiguin -
the valley of volcanoes and the sunken cemetery.
Viewing the Colours of StoBoSa to the
pretty patterns of Ifugao rice terraces,
until we reach the marvels of Luzon,
silently perching upon the zenith of
Mount Pulag's peaks, transcending spiritual
echoes towards Mindanao's Mount Apo,
whispering secretive Tagalog tongues,
in one hundred diasporic dialects,
as iris and marmalade skies welcome sunset,
we'll bathe in the sapphire ripples of Bohol sea.
Then we'll follow radiant night lights,
reaching the bustling streets of Manila,
losing ourselves in the succulent scents
of balut, kwek kwek, taho, halo halo,
as we devour juicy lanzones,
refreshed by a cool breeze,
The pearl of the Orient,
home of Balagtas' Florante at Laura,
dulcet tones of Santiago's Anak Dalita,
where heartfelt hospitality
with rich cultural heritage,
soothe tired eyes gazing at
natural wonders of ancient views,
where vibrant hues leave you breathless.
The Blood of My Fore-Fathers was spilt building this land too!
Though I think at Times People seem to Forget, For History Books May Never acknowledge their names.
I am here, Because they Came Before.
Their Legacy runs through My Veins.
The Economic System of Slavery brought them here, Though The Powers at the time called it Spreading Christianity, and Doing God’s Work.
There were the Spanish, Italians, Portuguese, and the British, All Seeking to Stake their Claim on The New World.
Some said they Sought a New Route to the West, A Path to the Orient they Claimed.
Others simply stated that New Territory was needed to Support the Citizens of the Motherland Back-Home.
Though the Romans did it Best, for it was Not only a Science, but a Way of Life.
Where it mattered Little if you were Greek, Jew, or Barbarian, If One we’re Not a Roman-Citizen they may be Eligible to be Enslaved.
I know that the System has Changed Through the Years, though it’s Effects have Endured the Test of Time.
Our Fathers Have Worked in Sugar-Cane, Share-Cropping, and Cotton-Fields, though Now we Want More.
When we First Came Here, The Natives seemed More an Inconvenience than Guide by the Powers that Be, Thus their Voices Were Soon Silenced.
I Wonder if Enough Time has Passed, Blood Spilt, Payments Made, and Understanding Obtained, for My Voice to be Heard?
Sincerely,
Son of The Soil
Author Paul Cumberbatch (July 22nd, 2020)
Pearl of the Orient Seas surely am I
in my strategic geographical position
Heralding beauty and glory bestowed
by the Almighty along my precious history
Influenced with varied cultures indeed
blest with unique identity of global impact
Liberty-led, I’m propelled by my great
citizens, surely freedom loving…
Independence prevails over me, conquered
by my heroes of valor and integrity
Propped upon truth of sovereignty
securing our territory with peace…
Philippines am I, verily dear, prospered
priceless gem to my treasured people
Imparting to them my God-blest*
of grand purpose and functional interest
Nourishing every citizen with ideals
upheld by constitutional nurture
Effectively delivering services through
officials who are responsibly efficient…
Settled am I as shining pearl to the
world marked by my FILIPINOS’ stature!
*Psalm 33:12 King James Version 12 Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord...
February 10, 2024
Personification in Acrostic form
1st place, "Pearl of the Orient" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Jcb Brul; judged on 2/25/2024
Many believed that medieval castle
built on that rocky and treeless
hill had an inestimable treasure
that a royal family hid for decades
into its secret chambers so dark:
to whom did the blessed sword
belong? A prince, a king, a knight,
a mercenary, or to a valourous Lord?
Was there also a gold crown ornated
with precious jewels from the Orient?
Legends seem real stories when told
with a specific narrative of realism;
was the storyteller satisfying his altruism...
writing a legend for an illustrious knight?
Everybody was searching for that treasure,
carrying a shovel ready to dig in the hard
soil and they dug everywhere without finding none;
had they known the exact spot it was buried,
their search would have been much easier
claiming themselves finders of great discovery
of the blessed sword that always brought victory
to that knight with the emblem on his shield of honor!
The Normans' castle had strong fortification walls
with towers where pacing soldiers surveilled them constantly,
while a young poet afraid of death wrote a vaudeville;
and when the Longobards attacked it, they were ready to battle:
fierce was their warriors' skills, they knew how to win wars,
nobody fell asleep but stayed awake by burning torches...
protecting the blessed sword of Duke Roger De Hautville!
THE ORIENT EXPRESS
There is this Beautiful, Ghost, Train.
She, all the time, rides the rails into my brain !
Memories of Her, will not refrain
from creating so much strain
upon the hours of my day, of my night,
as the thoughts of, are forever in flight.
Vision of our moments, forever in my sight.
The moments, now, are heavy, never are they light.
A hunting whistle, in the foggy distance, will blow.
It echoes across this barren land
all we shared, all that I know,
no longer to touch your face or take your hand.
Oh Steam Engine, ( Orient Express ), history !,
You’ve, become, as must the engine of my story.
B. J. “A” 2
June 3rd, 2012
ultramarine unfathomable sky, with a hue of gorgeous crimson from the east,
sometimes just hint of a dazzling mystifying dot,
a red dot on the forehead of an enchanting woman from the orient,
then it grows larger and larger, enveloping the ruby-red horizon,
a few white pristine clouds floating carefree,
bringing tangerine dreams from the yonder hills
our omnipotent creator has announced his grand arrival, but hasn't arrived yet.
moment of realization -
the world wouldn’t be the same without you, and without me.
A Brian Strand 2 to 14 lines Poetry Contest
Posted on August 14, 2021