Long Oriental Poems
Long Oriental Poems. Below are the most popular long Oriental by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Oriental poems by poem length and keyword.
Huntress
by Michael R. Burch
after Baudelaire
Lynx-eyed, cat-like and cruel, you creep
across a crevice dropping deep
into a dark and doomed domain.
Your claws are sheathed. You smile, insane.
Rain falls upon your path, and pain
pours down. Your paws are pierced. You pause
and heed the oft-lamented laws
which bid you not begin again
till night returns. You wail like wind,
the sighing of a soul for sin,
and give up hunting for a heart.
Till sunset falls again, depart,
though hate and hunger urge you?"On!"
Heed, hearts, your hope?the break of dawn.
Invitation to the Voyage
by Charles Baudelaire
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
My child, my sister,
Consider the rapture
Of living together!
To love at our leisure
Till the end of all pleasure,
Then in climes so alike you, to die!
The misty sunlight
Of these hazy skies
Charms my spirit:
So mysterious
Your treacherous eyes,
Shining through tears.
There, order and restraint redress
Opulence, voluptuousness.
Gleaming furniture
Burnished by the years
Would decorate our bedroom
Where the rarest flowers
Mingle their fragrances
With vague scents of amber.
The sumptuous ceilings,
The limpid mirrors,
The Oriental ornaments …
Everything would speak
To our secretive souls
In their own indigenous language.
There, order and restraint redress
Opulence, voluptuousness.
See, rocking on these channels:
The sleepy vessels
Whose vagabond dream
Is to satisfy
Your merest desire.
They come from the ends of the world:
These radiant suns
Illuminating fields,
Canals, the entire city,
In hyacinth and gold.
The world falls asleep
In their warming light.
There, order and restraint redress
Opulence, voluptuousness.
Originally published by Sonnetto Poesia
NOTE: This poem is about the way primal lust for sex can turn human beings into animals who toy with their prey, like cats with mice. It is not about any person in particular.
Such a dull evening
With it's cool breezy wind
Prompting us to chuckle
As we sat in a semi circle
Opening a flow of styles
Of ancient oriental culture
Spurring to life
A reel of retrospective tokes
flowing from a maternal bosom
with each descending strides
bringing sparkles to maa’s eyes
with each stylish strides
she flaunts the age long slits
from side to side
sparking life with each stride
to the beaming guests
amidst the cheers
emerged a glowing rage
that even a calming smile
from maa
could not quell
the fiery storm
working his boisterous wind
over bonds
even over locking band
but winding through
a maternal call
sending shocking waves
amidst the merging circle
encircling the flirting slits
with its storming wind
when serendipity seemed merely a word in a world of bare futile meaning
in plain English my grandma’s ‘you never know what it will be good for’
appeared to be no more than kitchen wisdom on the back of an eventful life
acceptance sounds hollow when the echo is vacant
she peeled potatoes when the earth shattered dreams in air raids and ruins
made hay when the sun would not shine on a horizon of loss and defeat
no lemons for lemonade in those days only substitute coffee and hunger
‘boy when you’re older you will see through the smoke’
she was long dead when my ex pulled the rugs from under my weary feet
oriental carpets became threadbare under constant assault abuse and denial
when communication fell silent and projection hit me as the vulnerable target
helpless depressed abandoned and clearly better dead than staggering forth
‘it’s all wrong and solely your fault but I won’t tell you why’
with my fuel running past reserve and the fuse ready for gas oven’s safety
the noose fastened on rafters of dread and the rope checked for tight grip
armed with nothing left unable to write my own eulogy for lack of resolve
my eyes fell on a pointless bottle and I shattered the glass into future shards
I am grateful for venom and false guilt laid at my trap door
thank you ‘dear ex’ for opening my eyes to a world of deceit and false promise
gratitude is giving credit to hardship I found new love because of your hatred
31st October 2020
Thanksgiving Poetry Contest
Sponsor Regina McIntosh
A communist leader judging himself
a semi-god, that's why so
vainglorious opened the window and spotted
the sun...
- Hello sunshine ... good morning!
The surprised sun replied:
- Good Morning.
The afternoon came, the chauvinist leader
aware of his condition, he opened the window and
again saluted the sun:
- Good afternoon, sunshine ...!
The sun to end the prose soon said:
- Good afternoon.
At night, wanting to demonstrate his superiority
before colleagues the arrogant leader opened
the window and shouted ...
- Good night sun ....!
- Good night sun ... !!
- Good night sun .... !!!
The sun did not answer ...
The leader angrily shouted:
-Who do you think you're dealing with ... I'm
greatest leader of the army in Germany
Oriental ... how dare you stay silent!
Then there was a fleeting, distant voice,
almost inaudible ...
- Ssh silence ... I'm not there now,
I'm in the east ...!
autumn slips between us like a snake of gleaming copper,
with scales of golden leaves that fall dancing toward the velvet earth,
and its forked tongue whispers secrets about the magical transformation,
in the warm air that smells of sweet wood smoke and burnt cinnamon.
it bites us gently with its amber teeth leaving traces of dream,
on our skin that trembles beneath the sun of oriental spices,
this autumn carries on its shoulders a mantle woven from red gold thread,
embroidered with ink of migratory birds and nocturnal falling stars.
the snake of liquid copper coils between us binding us slowly,
in knots of perfumed solitude in the crowd of elongated shadows,
with its green jade eyes it gazes deep into the moments that flow away,
and its long tail beats the slow rhythm of falling bronze leaves.
the leaves float in the air like small ships toward unseen shores,
carrying messages written with rust ink on vegetal parchments,
nostalgic autumn paints with wind brushes the colors of sunset,
on the stretched canvas of landscape that transforms with each magical breath.
and we stand watching autumn's arrival with its ancestral rituals,
with our hearts beating like drums in chests full of expectation,
while the copper snake melts into the afternoon mist,
in dry grass beneath the sky full of stars beginning to blink timidly.
this autumn embraces us with arms of aromatic smoke and leaves,
sings to us melodies from the ancient age when forests spoke with people,
and its copper snake leaves behind trails of metallic light,
in the sweet memory of summer slowly retreating into crystalline hibernation.
the sweet wine of autumn flows through the veins of earth like an underground river,
and each falling leaf carries within it the small universe of beautiful parting,
the copper snake slips between all of us like a liquid golden dream,
murmuring the song of transformation that leaves us with hearts full of melancholy.
I was jet skiing on the wings of a jet stream
when I noticed the others floating along.
First a small robin, then an eagle and
finally a small red helicopter joined our little throng.
As we passed over the next country,
I recognized it as oriental beautiful Hong Kong.
What game were they playing in the park?
Was it the wonderful clever Mahjong?
Crazy jet stream suddenly pitched us in another direction,
and we were singing along.
To a new hip hop rap, joined by a super-terrific souped-up bike
and Mr. Lance Armstrong.
This is great he said, I have been counting on a
little well-needed airborne break all week long.
With the birds, and the helicopter, the bike,
and a world-famous athlete, what could go wrong?
We went fast and furiously back to the 50’s,
and we were grabbed by fierce looking King Kong.
A place we should never have gone back to,
which we realized quite keenly, in not very long.
There was soon a crowd gathering under the Empire State Building,
a real angry throng.
As we were thrown into the crowd at warp-like speed,
I wished I was back in beautiful Hong Kong.
Pathway blocked
Detour around;
Seek alternative route
Look beyond zest
Let message fling;
Align your quest
No customers
Drowsy sales person;
Somnolent afternoon
Bazaar atmosphere
Crowded pathway;
Curious seekers
Mini speakers
Loud digital music;
Screaming upbeat sounds
Popcorn vendor
Long queue waiting;
Small people and parents
Durian season
Pungent suffocation;
Sensory perfection!
Sales season
Great Singapore Sale;
Temptations galore
Diamonds and stones
Sapphires and garnet;
Precious metal settings
Food court delights
Staple dietary fare;
Oriental flavours greet
Looking at something
Finder's keepers;
Standing queue now claims
Time and space
Strange allotments;
Flood tide of moments
Leon Enriquez
11 July 2014
Singapore
Underneath all the layers
Of tradition
Of religion
Of philosophy
Of reason and understanding
I smolder
In passion's pleasure bed of red
Paroxysms of pleasure
Emanate from my core
Searing the shroud
Flames of fantasy's feast burn
Yearning I yearn and lie in wait
In my ambuscade
with the relish to ravish ravaging
every fiber
Conceived in the throes of passion
My conception is my perception of life
Woven into my being
I’m prisoner to pleasure monomania
Obsession of desire hysteria
My cacoethes: gratification gratified
Thus, I scintillate sparks
Riding on my satin flares
They captivate your stare
You see me
Feeling the heat of sultry flame
You want to play scorch torch game
So your reach out to touch
Mere kindling in my blazing wake
You quake as I slake your florid fantasy awake
Convulsing in temptation’s torment
You combust to lust
Consummating till consumed
Eliciting my passion flower bloom
In opulent oriental room
You swoon
Exertion exhausted
Gratification’s glory gained
Having tasted my reign
Revived your leave
Yet…
My image I’ve seared
On your flesh and mind
Branded, you’ll find
Your way back to me
Slave to my passion's decree
You’ll come to me
And I retreat
Enshrouded once more
In virgin layers
Of tradition
Of religion
Of philosophy
of reason and understanding
Biding my time
when sensuality sublime
calls me
to bloom in her red flame
Eileen
The cool wind whistles tonight,
the rosy moon and her light
dances amid the green trees,
but my mind rebels and flees
to the girl sitting on a fence
with the sunset on her face.
An orange carp leaps on the air,
swimming with oriental flair,
the shinning pool respites again
and I wonder about the day when
I see the girl sitting on a fence
with the sunset on her face.
The pages I flip back and forth,
the weather is fickle on the north,
the sun shines on the south,
All I fancy is to kiss the mouth
of the girl sitting on a fence
with the sunset on her face.
I am awake and now it is lost,
may I dream again and host
the green fields where I hide,
having always on my side
the girl sitting on a fence
with the sunset on her face.
Form:
Elena is a visiting nurse, she's
also my sister in law.
She shared a story with me,
that practically dropped my jaw.
She didn't mention this couple's
name, there are privacy laws.
But she shared a story about,
this oriental man that took some
ba__'s
Don't get me wrong they were
a nice couple that had some
medical needs.
Elena was there to help, take
care of her patient, provide some
medical assistance and oversee.
She got to know the family and
became good friends.
There was one little problem
there was a language barrier
both didn't understand.
It was frustrating for Elena
trying to communicate with
this older man.
Wung would make up words
and Elena would nod her head
to make him think she'd
comprehend.
I guess she nodded because
she didn't want to hurt his
feelings to show that she
didn't have a clue to what
he was talking about.
She just didn't understand
Chinese, no way no how.
One day Wung asked her, "You
like ucky chicken?" She
replied, "What?" He asked
again, "You like ucky chicken?"
He told her, "You comma with me!"
He took Elena in the kitchen took
out a frying pan, some cooking oil,
and a chicken for her to see.
He put the frying pan on the
burner, slammed the chicken in
the cooking oil, and said
"ucky chicken, ucky chicken!"
Elena looked at this Old man
trying desperately to understand.
Elena said, "Oh you mean fried
chicken!" He said, "yes!" "Yes!" "ucky
chicken, ucky chicken!"
He said, "You aaaaamericans ucky chicken in the hottttt oilllllll!"
Meaning to say. You Americans fry chicken in the hot oil.
Elena practically fell on the floor
laughing for what she had heard.
In his words he thought he was
saying fried chicken but his actual
words said, well you get the picture.
LOL!
Michael Tor 10/2 2015 (True Story)
Dedicated to my sister in law Elena.