Long Portage Poems
Long Portage Poems. Below are the most popular long Portage by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Portage poems by poem length and keyword.
THE WAILING CRY OF MAMA AFRICA.
Who shall I tell this story
Who will heal this injured glory
We were like Jack and Jim
We climbed the hills together
Like a cock poured hot water
My comb is fallen with no feathers
To beautify my skin
The pride of my womb lies desolate
Who will suck this firm breast up before they become fallen
Cried out Mama Africa
The portage of hot yam have been served
My children are eating with bare hands
Stained by their red bloody thick pourage
What baffles me is how hungry they are
But still eat with heated hated courage
Cried mother Africa
As she watched down from the Futajjan
Asante Asante Asante
With his golden stool he accended
As mama Africa enchanted
The fire wood is ready for fire he seated
My son the woods have been used for cooking while you were asleep
As Mama Africa hissed
There comes my son Odudua
With his brother Eri looking angry
The water in the coconut have excaped
It was never sapped
Woo-hoo woo-hoo woo-hoo cried mother Africa
Who chased the spiders and break the webs
Now they travel on their own in peace and shame
Mama Africa cried out
Anansi where is your trick your brothers children have faced a puzzle they can't solve
Chiwara she called the beauty in thy horn now
Have become thorns on thy head
Mawu-Lisa the twins, where lies the beauty of your marriage
Kwakwau kwakwau kwakwau Mama Africa cried with all her children lost in thought
The Obodom drum beat can no longer withhold my tears
Abbassi and Attai whispered as she cried
Chineke moved out in confusion
As Arusi quickly brought his snuff box
Even my evil heart can not bear this shame Adrao murmured
Damballa my son you failed to govern my children's will
You allowed my children forget the road and work the hill she queried
Roog,Mwari reject the sacrifices your brothers are at war Mama Africa cautioned
Chuita tell Obatala that his handicapped children need healings
who will dry my tears shouted mama Africa
As she wailed aloud.
As all her children gathered around the fire
Tired and retired they all joined their mother to wail
As they watched from Futajallon so they took of their crown.
Bring green barges for the winching,
heft a portage of willowy thrones
for the wind thrummers,
gild each gap with dewy vines.
A droning in the leaf shelters,
all the humming skimmers
grown beyond their husks.
Gather the garner to be had
sift and share.
Time to haul-in Lady flaxen hair
her goldenrods dancing.
We have windows, behind them
volant dragons glitter
and whisk.
We see her serpent forms
in the airy whim.
We have lashes on ox-eye buds,
honeycombed fodder
in the silky sap,
tidings leap,
utter bright on every tongue.
It is the rivering. The Spring awakening
and the rioters are weaving sunlight
everywhere.
Cherry paddle you carved a few years ago.
Short portages in with good trail, except for
One boggy bit to breed mosquitoes.
Mosquito repellent for said boggy bit.
No motorboats after first portage.
Fair wind and clear sky, except for
One bad day to make the trip real.
One big fish that got away for next year.
Enough fish caught for one supper and one breakfast.
Wild blueberries for pancakes and bannock.
Whippoorwills calling in the evening, followed by.
Wolves howling and Barred Owl calling at night.
One clear night to marvel at stars overhead.
One night with Northern Lights flickering.
One misty morning with loons crying.
A wee dram of Scotch to appreciate the above.
Sufficient bladder capacity to avoid 1:00 a.m. pee.
One new gadget – this year a solar lantern.
Tent and air mattress that don`t leak.
Rain gear that doesn`t leak.
A long portage on return loop, just because.
Years of memories, just because.
7/28/2019
Writing Challenge 3, July 2019 - List
LICKING WOUNDS
Lulling the bye and bye
In dreams that oozed and wept with the regret
Of unfinished business
In the portage veiled with the drift of confusion
Sustained by the envisioned memory
Of snarling words and demon eyes
Ejaculating horror from the love swept beginnings
We once knew
Reigning in this fiery heart so full of itself
To burst in the moment
Releasing its pent-up punishment
To sing in the realm of forgiveness
The harmonies long forgotten
Belied by the swan song that lost its rhythm
Along the path of little substance
Of fabled passion
Weeping upon the pillow of hiding
To disappear while each tear washes away
The dirty laundry stained with apathy and rejection
Dwelling in the temple of our shallowness
Buried in the effort of our escape
Emerging like the slow sunrise of a spring day
Diffused into believing tomorrow will never be the same
To any Joy that is created
No Anchor for Rancor
Wounded the ship of my soul,
With tattered sails,
Heels up in malevolence,
Venom puffs out the jib
In leeward grudges of tactless spite
On a pointless reach
Heading up into retaliation.
Heart hardened sends out a deep tap root,
Like a dagger board,
For my blustering hubris
To drop an anchor and moor animosity
In a portage of perpetual whirlwinds
With undertows of enmity
Crashing about in irons of spite.
Yet steady winds rise up
And I must come about
Heading into prevailing winds
Then journey through hubris doldrums,
Sails filled fresh with newborn winds,
Orphaning rancor - breathing in forgiveness -
Sailing beneath full sails of resurrection
I
The friend in the deli
of the Piggly Wiggly
in Lodi show me her nails
strikes up conversations
when I come back to town
for a second week of work.
I tell her about the work
on utility lines on county roads
where I control traffic
and the beauty of the countryside.
She tells me about her daughter
two years old who brings joy
and says she’s finding her life
as we share stories every day.
time shared day after day
the delectable taste
of our conversations
II
The motel clerk near Portage
checks me in for the week.
Her black T-shirt says Hot Stuff
and I tease her
and we learn to confide
in each other.
We talk about our losses
and she says her boyfriend
has died from an overdose
and I lend her my understanding.
One night I sit in the lobby
and watch my favorite TV show.
She sits on a chair near me
as if a date as I sink into
the cushions of the couch.
We talk about our futures
as I check out at the end of the week
I say the next I’ll be on another assignment
but we vow to stay in touch.
moments shared
during my stay
my home for the week
.
twists and turns of serpentine.
perfumes that emanate from time to time,
through a wall of quietus-trees.
perils in the doubting waters,
amidst the anaconda, caiman, and piranha.
perhaps, after all, man is the more sinister
as his stomach growls
and his face’s beaten bittersweet
by the zenith of the Amazon.
his legs carry portage and dugout canoes.
sinkholes churn whirlpools.
vines hang down and choke.
~ most hope from within ~
for despairing we learn to be thiefs,
murderers hewn out of fear.
insects further trouble and attack,
and tribal eyes spy, and agitate
in perpetuities’ suspicious waters.
Rio Roosevelt thrives cantankerously
as Theodore’s enemies attack,
with deadly scratches and malaria.
but Rondon never forgets
to map and be respectful
of the tribes, even if
it’s to his own demise.
1/22/2018
Who is the bear;
That is running scared?
Taken what is not his
What it is, what it is;
Telling you what's good for you
And what's not
Drinking portage and hemlock (what)
And who is the lion
whose got the people crying
Saving grace has no place for intolerant tying up people with masking tape
Must break free, watching out for the killer bees
And who is the man
That has a better plan than I
Whose life is it yours to take
And whose lies are you gonna enforce
I won't intricate nor retaliate
I'm just gonna sit here and wait
I won't intricate nor retaliate
Just gonna sit here and wait just wait
Eat all of the vegetables here on my plate
Carrots, broccoli, sweet beans and rice
Peas, collar flower and spinach leaves
I am gonna eat the greens and the fat of the land
Why is the lion up and roaring?
And why is he trying to take what's not his taking what is stolen
Put it down, put it down lion;
Chasing and killing innocent children women and men
And who is the lamb, steady and fine where is Ben?
Open and ready to determine His kind
Saving grace has no place for intolerant hipOquits huh!
And who is the man
That has a better plan than I
Whose life is it yours to take
And whose lies are you gonna enforce
I won't intricate nor retaliate
I'm just gonna sit here and wait
I won't intricate nor retaliate
Just gonna sit here and wait just wait
Eat all of the vegetables here on my plate
Carrots, broccoli, sweet beans and rice
Peas, collar flower and spinach leaves
I am gonna eat the greens and the fat of the land
am gonna eat the greens and the fat of the land
cause that's the kind of man I am
Eat the green and fat of the land
04/15/14
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
Arranged music by Jonathan Echtinaw