Long Philosophic Poems
Long Philosophic Poems. Below are the most popular long Philosophic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Philosophic poems by poem length and keyword.
In the meeting
of LUKA members,
Yves Kamunobe
stood up and started reciting, "
As I was sleeping ,
I heard an old man screaming ,'
Wake up Wamasanzi,
Wavira , Wafipa , wagoma
Watabwa, Wabuyu , Wabemba ,
Waholoholo , wabwali."
I saw the group of people following him.
They were speaking similar languages.
The old man said ,' don't allow
your enemies to divide you."
As I was walking ,
I saw a group of beauful ladies,
Who were singing
some cultural
Bwali songs.
I was over the moon
As seeing my beautiful sisters
dancing in bwali rhythm.
I open my heart to you my brothers-in-law.
You who wish to find wise
and good hearted women.
The way to Masanzi land is opened
The way to Vira land is opened
The way to Bemba land is opened
The way to Tabwa land is opened
The way to Waoma Land is opened
There are beautiful flowers
on those lands.
Yes!
Natural dark , chocolate,
and brown flowers...
I mean so lovely in and out.
Remember,
it is not marketing
But the choices
are yours.
As I was speaking,
Some men heard me
and they will rush to pick up
flowers of their choices.
Nice fragrance will impress
all their visitors.
This message seems
to be much Poetic
than Historic
Symbolic
than Philosophic
Romantic
than Tribalistic
Lovely
than Lonely.
Yes!
Marying each other will strengthen our Unity
Bajhoba and Wayao.
I am with Wayao today
telling the truth
as one of the beautiful creatures
that living this planet Earth.
I don't wish to close my breath
In front of some beautiful
Yao women at lake Nyasa beaches.
I dont think my future
brothers in law hearing me.
Marying each other will strengthen our Unity
Bajhoba and Wayao.
I don't mind to climb Yao mountain
to find the soap of my heart on the pic.
I don't mind to fly to NyasaLand
to find the flower of my choice.
What about you?
Remember !
The way to Masanzi land is opened
The way to Vira land is opened
The way to Bemba land is opened
The way to Tabwa land is opened
The way to Waoma Land is opened
Marying each other will strengthen our Unity
Bajhoba and Wayao.
I share my Mind
As I am so Kind
Living on Royal Land.
I thank you."
I thought poetry is
-name of Mesopotamia which was the first civilization to emerge in human history
-ancient cave peoples surviving life struggle
I thought poetry is
-an immortal love story of Yousuf- Zulekha, Shirin-Farhad, Laila-Majnu or Romeo-Juliet
-a telephonic or open love conversation of smiling postmodern girls
-drying wet colorful clothes of beloved in the courtyard of the house
-haring of beloved with tuberose garland before a mirror
I thought poetry is
-lizards chirping from the deserted house; cockroach flying
-quarrelsome cats in the black dark or barking dogs
-the struggle of mosquito for human blood
-traveling of the arrogant indecent animals all over the night
I thought poetry is
-thrilling venturous ghostly stories of J. K. Rowling
-self-expression of known-unknown writers
-unspoken tale of a war-wounded soldier
-the regret of the thousands of dead soldiers
-the unwritten fantasy of an isolated poet
-the lonely guitar or ektara of dead singers
I thought poetry is
-without reel tie an independent flying of a kite in the sky
-in the blue sky sovereign flapping of birds
-movement of invisible winds everywhere
-hearing story of fairytale crossing of green forest
I thought poetry is
-handmade airing of newly married girl to a new groom in lunch time
-dyed hands of nubile girls by mehndi,
-captivating sounds of jingling anklet and kamarband of dancing damsels
I thought poetry is
-classic music of Pandit Ravi Shankar
-immortal tune of Ustad Bismillah Khan's shehnai
-compilation of humanitarian lyrics of the legend Bob Marley
-heart touching reciting of the Holy Quran of Qari Abdul Basit
I thought poetry is
-unforgettable philosophical discussion of Socrates with his disciples
-the philosophic lineage of learning such as Socrates-Plato-Aristotle
-immortal scientific creations of Newton, Galileo, Einstein, Nikola Tesla, Hawking
I thought poetry is
-unremitting prayer or worship of any prevailed religion devotee to get heaven
-inhuman history of bombing on the Hiroshima and Nagasaki or brutality of 1st or 2nd World War
These all are just my thinking,
my thinking is free
on my path
but poetry is poetry,
more than any thinking, many more;
on its path
Poetry is independent fully
-June 27, 2019 Chattogram
Travelling upon the dusty roads of finite unwinding existence,
Grit seconds embed in the treads of ragged unstitched shoes,
The day turns to night with resigned, mute inevitability
And night turns to day in return with no other way to choose.
The present is either always here or never here at all,
For it arrives and fades out a sub-atomic second split,
The snap of a finger, the blink of an eye, the crack of a whip,
So the present doesn't really exist, in any way you look at it.
The future is the time after the present or only the present in waiting,
This being the case, which it probably is, then, the future may not be,
In a perpetual flow of fluid disintegration and leaving alone,
And then becoming the past, and left for dead, recombinant memory.
None of us have a future, not as the term of substance we use,
As if it were a promise of opportunity and life of living treasures,
When it is nothing more than the present to be, or that which has ceased to be,
A belief process in occurrence, recurrence and insubstantial measures.
Yet, more so, there is love and faith and hope, yes, these gifts
Establish our philosophic future more than the passage of time, land and sea;
For humanity is as humanity does, and the only potential future it has
The only substance possessed of it, is to be the best it can be.
No matter how fleeting the cosmic arc through time’s relativity,
The enduring and transcendent nature of cycles of birth and death
Allow for the chance, the evolutionary drive, to better what has been,
In exacting change, no matter how small, no matter the depth and breadth.
Now the grit seconds embedded in the unstitched treads may be
Diamonds or dirt, depending on the way we walk or the pressure of each foot,
Our trajectory across the landscape and surfaces we step on,
Characterises our being by how we move or how we stay put.
We may stray from the path, and we will, and we may stumble and fall,
It is the getting up and moving on when all is done and said,
The direction we take and the way we conduct ourselves in approach
Defines our lives, those in our wake, those by our side and up ahead.
"Turn on the television",
Says an angel munching popcorn,
At the end of each century
"What are the humans up to?"
15th Century:
Columbus exploring lands on unending voyages
Enchanting symphonies of musicians
Words printed publicly
On yet another note,
Empires waging wars for supremacy
16th Century:
Shakespeare sprinkles an era of Literature
Novel religions blend together
World marvels at inventions
Oh! Their foolish twist,
Struggling against man made plagues
17th Century:
Pascal, Boyle, Newton bask in glorious Science
Folks marvel at exquisite cuisines
Discover how universe expands
But humans need a change,
How about propagating slavery
18th Century:
Darwin and Berkeley penetrate philosophic minds
Austen explores societal strata
Mozart floats among harps
Well enough, humans think
Let's plot royal conspiracies
19th Century:
Civilizations soar with industrial revolution
Pasteur creates life-saving vaccines
Giant machines uplift cities
Isn't that much for now
Time to expand slave colonies
20th Century:
Theories leave immortal traces in all fields
Carbon dating, electromagnetic rays,
Nuclear reactions building spaceships
Humans have a different need
Devastating nuclear bomb thrills
Bored, angels switch to channel Earth
Only two decades past 21st century,
Interstellar voyages, flying planes,
A primitive human wouldn't believe,
But oh they can never change,
Bubbling venom of cold wars,
Dead humanity, tortured nature,
Cheap thrills of pointless debates.
"Okay that's been a while I say,
It is time to give them a taste.
At regular intervals in this century,
Humans with their wolfish greed
Surpassing idiocy need a pause."
Combating over money, religions,
Nature, opinions, nothing else
While humans oppose each other
Forgetting to ponder their doings
Angels and demons dance together
Letting nature throw up for a while
God laughs as he tunes for showtime,
"And now for something completely different..."
May 20, 2020
The dawning day is like an open door
for voyagers adrift in living stream
to waken from the dream asleep no more.
When out of slumber’s seas we’re cast ashore
and consciousness resumes its heady beam,
the dawning day is like an open door.
With dialectic feet upon the floor
the thinker frames a philosophic scheme
in lieu of wakening asleep no more.
Stargazers, poets, let their fancies soar
into the realms beyond what things may seem,
for dawning day is like an open door.
Though myriads divinities implore,
within our being lies the path supreme
to reach awakenment asleep no more.
Deep wisdom handed down from ages yore
can teach us of enlightenment’s true gleam.
The dawning day is like an open door
to waken from the dream asleep no more.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
Inspiration was derived from the following writing by Nichiren Daishonin…
“The ordinary people, who inhabit the nine realms of dharmas, are wholeheartedly immersed in the sleep of the unenlightenment of not wanting to know. They are drowned in the dream of living and dying, as well as having forgotten what the wakefulness of the enlightenment of the original state is all about. They cling at all costs to what is going on in the dream. And they stray from one darkness to the next.”
~ Nichiren Daishonin (1279)
From ~ “A Collation of the Layers of the Various Teachings of all the Buddhas of the Past, Present and Future as to Which Specific Doctrines are to be Discarded or Established” (So Kan Mon Sho) ~ translated by Martin Bradley
[See site at dharmagateway.org]
This writing has also been translated as ~ “The Teachings Affirmed by All Buddhas Throughout Time” (Sokanmon Sho)
“Common mortals of the nine worlds are asleep in the mind’s innate delusion. Lost in a dream of the sufferings of birth and death, they forget the reality of original enlightenment. Attached to the rights and wrongs within their dream, they move from darkness into greater darkness.”
~ Nichiren Daishonin (1279)
when the rich wage war, it is the poor who die
overflowing their bank accounts as they lie
hiding behind niceties as they make us slaves
wars made to control us, which they create and crave
when will we learn that segregation is to take?
not just our lives, homes and human rights are at stake
but our very souls as they bury the light within
greedy addiction their only means to a dead end
creating the armageddon to prove true false prophets
we bought into their “good book” as right and philosophic
it is easier to place our sins under another’s blame
accept forgiveness, as we turn inconceivably insane
society claiming no responsibility for their actions
defying the laws of decency in self-righteous reactions.
absolution is not possible in our religious fervor
we despise ourselves internally as sheep and follower.
jesus might forgive our sins, and that a slim chance.
will those we torture and persecute join this happy dance?
nothing will become nothing and so it shall return to be
that we are insignificant as human species.
when the rich wage war, it is the poor who die
without the poor the rich cannot feed their lie.
no one is left to support their arrogant farce
destroying planet earth, corruption on the march
slavery, pride, taking of life (any life), lying and cheating,
coveting the jones’ wife or boat or house, abusive wife beating
in the name of their god that is not balanced in polarity
is the way to chaos and darkness in the laws of scarcity.
believing that your actions are not your own
belong to a horrendous force, the cyclone
thinking that you are above judgment of deeds
is foolish, arrogant, capitulates and concedes
to empty spaces in heart and mind
for darkness to dwell within and find
a breeding ground for despair and pain
chained to the physical you remain.
when the rich wage war, it is the poor who die
without the poor, the rich cannot feed their lie.
Somewhere in the pretty petty imaginary illusion of delusion
There lies a truth an edifice of search between obtuse confusion
Windows like brick walls and concrete blocks birthing the light
Nails to be nailed screws to be screwed with monumental sight
A life a building fortress sand castle beach hut nutter’s dream
Maybe a prison with towers barbed wire fences mindful scream
Some multi storied paradise no choke on apple’s stem or core
No passion fruit in torture chambers shackles behind and to the fore
No hidden attic and no cellar no stellar fantasy no quick descent
For now simply one dimension deserted plain hopes to ferment
Scraping no skies a cave hovel card board box a bombed out grave
Nothing to hold onto no graces left spent and ravished naught to save
Is it magic thought provoked delusion of illusion alluded distortion
Who knows does it matter I suppose it does in incomplete reapportion
Some are born in a manger on the fields of labour some with a silver spoon
Surely some would rather have foundations a ceiling not some lonely moon
Get me not wrong as singing the praises of romantic poverty and dearth
Icy cold and freezing bones do not bear up to sound safe privilege in birth
Yet from the scraping nib and luxury of pen in hand and philosophic mind
Not wishing to lack compassion nor cementing over cracks so misaligned
We are the builders of our lives to some extent despite the vagaries so vast
Can we find a staircase upwards some sliding pole to reach out for the past
In such compassion regardless of painful structures and abandoned need
Is some notion some motion of change and nourishment star dust to feed
In God we trust nihilism architecture Karma fate Nirvana hard core grind?
No valid answers but questions loving search for quiet mindfulness in kind
ON THE ROCKS
Talk about bad luck, I hit rock bottom and broke a leg
One advantage to hitting rock bottom is at least I know which way is up now
I hit Rock’s bottom and he promptly kicked my bottom from one end to the other
It usually bottoms out when I hit rock bottom
WAXING PHILOSOPHIC (YEAH YOU MOPPED, BUT DID YOU WAX?... I THOUGHT NOT!)
A tree fell in the forest and a hearing impaired gentleman was nearby so it did NOT make a sound
You think, therefore you are and just who do think you are, anyway?
What does not kill me only makes me weak in the stomach when I am presented with the hospital bill
People who live in bakeries should not throw scones
DONCHA’ JUST LOVE IT?
Love is blind and keeps bumping into things
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways! Um…
I loved her to death but got off on a technicality
Star-crossed lovers occasionally get crossed up and can get rather cross about it too
I SAW ONE THE OTHER DAY I SWEAR TO GOD I DID
I made a Snowman that frankly speaking, looked Abominable
The Abominable Snowman retired to Florida and melted on the spot
Bigfoot treated The Abominable Snowman and family to dinner and footed the entire bill (however, things got pretty hairy when his credit card was refused)
Bigfoot often puts his foot in his mouth and he’s got a big mouth too
YOU’RE A REAL PAIN IN THE ASS AND STOP ACTING LIKE A HORSE’S ASS, SMART-ASS AND MY ASS CAN WHIP YOUR ASS ANY DAY OF THE WEEK TOO
A mule got a species change operation and made a real ass of himself
So WHAT if I’ve got it all backwards? (You whole-ass- b_tch-of- a-son!)
Secretariat lost his ass in a High-Stakes poker game
A horse was unjustly discriminated against because it was a horse of a different color
I'm a provocative artist spilling ink's
brilliant spectrums of colorful emotions.
Productive Poet seeking worldwide
philosophical philosophies ambitions
of "crazy mind's ".
Provoking philosophical philosophy
streamlining ergonomics of the mind
in life's angelic orchids of ageless wisdom's.
Whispers of my words echo throughout
time with exquisite wizardtrii & ageless
philosophy.
Question the caress of a Philosopher’s
soft word's embellishing wisdom's
of mythical proportions.
Multifaceted dexterity a cherished
personality with eccentricities of
simplicity.
My flaws are multi-facet eccentricities
of a devoted passion rearranging star studded premiers.
Spiritual Spitz tunneling & funneling
tasty bite-sized wisdoms living life’s
philosophic philosophy in which life agrees
in greatest proportions.
Exquisitely unique with a custom
physique of a sharp dagger
double-edged swagger.
Ambidextrous configurations of my
dexterity twin in line designs in a
single file rhyme.
Smearing colorful abstracts in
mythical designs mesmerizing
my life & times
Commemorating these provocative
lines with a unique dynamic of time.
Prophet in profits of a profitable future
configurations of my multi cultural
points of view.
A conspiracy without no theory
a hypothetical question listening
to no suggestions.
Architect of accentuating aesthetics
in romance with a provocative
dance in a mythical prancing pose.
?Universe interconnected?
®O?N~§ € £ F€º
?{Interconnected»«Universe}?
Pen's Broadcasting Brilliance
21st century's Poet
#WickedRomancer
? #poet #poetry #poem
Form:
Villanelle: The only thing the masses can buy
The only thing the masses can buy
That’s not listed on the stock market
The one-way ticket out of our sky
They scrub they shine they barely e’er cry
With no bats to defend their wicket
The only thing the masses can buy
Marx and Engels tried to tell them why
Yet unions all the reasons forget
The one-way ticket out of our sky
Best show on earth watch democrat ploy
Big Ben Speaker cry “ORDER” and fidget
The only thing the masses can buy
Yet the masses sell votes on the sly
To slice bi-cameral house in secret
The one-way ticket out of our sky
Duped by spam tv fearful and shy
See they why Socrates kicked the bucket*
The only thing the masses can buy
The one-way ticket out of our sky
* "The trial of Socrates (399 BC) was held to determine the philosopher’s guilt of two charges: asebeia (impiety) against the pantheon of Athens, and corruption of the youth of the city-state; the accusers cited two impious acts by Socrates: “failing to acknowledge the gods that the city acknowledges” and “introducing new deities”.
The death sentence of Socrates was the legal consequence of asking politico-philosophic questions of his students, from which resulted the two accusations of moral corruption and of impiety. At trial, the majority of the dikasts (male-citizen jurors chosen by lot) voted to convict him of the two charges; then, consistent with common legal practice, voted to determine his punishment, and agreed to a sentence of death to be executed by Socrates’s drinking a poisonous beverage of hemlock." (Source Wikipedia)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2018