Long Recitation Poems
Long Recitation Poems. Below are the most popular long Recitation by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Recitation poems by poem length and keyword.
Vasava – An untold story 10/Many
Curtains made of Silk with gold thread embroidery
Were hanging on all the doors and windows of the auditorium
Big silk curtains, were hanging behind the dance stage
Shining and blinking, because of gold and silver on them,
Were brightening the dance stage, making it bright like a day
Beautiful Persian carpets were displayed
Covering the entire auditorium, where the guests were sitting
A thin such carpet was also lying, all around the stage
Leaving the dance floor, which was made of Mahogany wood
On which, Vasava was sitting to start her first Raga of the day
All the eyes were drinking the nectar like wine of Vasava
So lovely were her looks and so intoxicating was her youth
The beauty of her spotless body, was spreading its charms
Which was coming out, from every part of her body, specially
The matchless beauty of her eyes, legs, waist, hands and bosoms
King Suyodhan was invited on the stage to declare the Utsava to begin
And then appeared the attraction of the Utsava or the day, Vasava
The drums and musical instruments began to flow their sounds
The team of musicians accompanying Vasava, took seat near her
Suddenly all became speechless, so that they may not miss a word of her singing
Vasava’s face appears to have taken, the beauty from full Moon glow
And the gold Noopur* which she wearing in her feet’s
Were ringing, on her leg’s movements, creating a melody on its own,
Her recitation of Saraswati’s* prayer had already enthralled everyone
And now she was about to begin, her first performance of the day
Ravindra to continue in 11
Kanpur India 21st March 2010
Copy writes protection as per Poetry Soup automatic Copy write provisions also.
* Gold Noopur Noorpur means small bells, which dancers wear while
performing the dances in Indian. The Noopur which
Vasava was wearing were made of Gold. It creates a
sound on the movements of legs. Normally it is made
of brass and many such are tied up in a cloth belt.
* Noopur A hallow anklet containing tiny bells
DONJOURN WORLD
Help me for i want to know
Although to know for me is to be free
But not by all men, but by my freedom
I have been lying in this gutter world
Wondering why i cannot get up
Perhaps fight my way to the freedom land
Where i see all men work and walk in pleasure
Yet the more i see all men walk pleasurably on the land
I hate the morning that raise me down through the donjourn land
Early that morning i found out
That inside this donjourn is where most people in our world belongs
Funny enough is it in cry
As i found out that we have the same believe, share faith, one same blame
It is their fault; they are responsible for the big world in the gutter
I know that during the beginning there was no gutter
Infact, the world indeed was built without shallow pit
And ground of merciless abode as ours
Yet for men to be happy and share wickedness
They built this absurd kingdom
Every time i see one in the land kingdom and beg for their help
They have a recitation that made me believe
That their world is a world of same slogan, one belief
How did you manage to end up here
Find your way up, i have a lot on my hand
Yet the hand seems free, less occupy i swear
Although, it is a question and a little confusing answer
But sure painful, also a heart sincere message
A rather two edge sword
Our kingdom always dash the pains away
With the normal consolation word
I know they will all deny the charge
That we happen to exist here does not mean that we will end up here
One day i know by our complain and the God that put us here
By our side, we will at the end of the day join the land mob
But the space of time and what they are doing
And the endurance of the complain in them
Made me hate them by their will
In them i see much difference from me
Their will and my will, their see and my see
Have a lot of gap than our appearance
In theirs’, there is no way
In mine, there are ways
But i only want to find out the time
And if possible know how to break quick
To become the lord and king in the land kingdom
Early word by the land kingdom friend
Made me know that i hold my freedom
I was once like you but i never believe what you people says
And that is what led me to the land kingdom
I always think more than the land kingdom
One more mystery that no one knows
I think like the God that created all kingdom
I’d extend an invitation
to all in the congregation
through this speech of inspiration
which is quite a compilation
yet I expect no adulation
and no gest of adoration
for in my own estimation
it’s a trifle occupation
clearing out the obfuscation
of a simple predication
o’er the course of this oration
through the rhyme of this dictation
See it’s a feebly built narration,
or an errant adaptation
sitting ‘top a weak foundation
grounded on some old quotation
writ in archaic notation
which seems to bear no strong relation
to the current held fixation
on the poorly built translation
which is more of a mutation
than an actual citation.
Now to give a brief summation
I will fight off the temptation
and my present inclination
to continue this vocation
and I’ll risk your irritation
with this act of abdication
and upset your expectation
by using this line instead
to add a bit of variation
as the only deviation
in my final recitation.
Now please stifle your elation
as I offer resignation
for I’m out of medication
and I fear the obligation
to interpret revelation
meant to spell out your salvation
is to my great consternation
causing meal regurgitation
and worse stomach ulceration
though at best the correlation
is just my imagination.
So I’m taking a vacation
to a tropical location
lost in wild vegetation
where I’ll watch in adoration
those grass skirts in their gyration
and sip drinks of fermentation
to avoid the dehydration
that always comes by deprivation
or by over-conservation.
If it’s any consolation,
after lots of vaccination
I’ll pursue my destination
through a week of navigation
on a vessel of flotation
as my mode of transportation
and forego all aviation.
So I plead, dear congregation
understand my situation
‘spite my freedom from taxation,
just suppress your indignation
toward my dreams of recreation
though I have no explanation
save this current presentation.
And though there is no valuation
for true acts of consecration,
after much consideration
if you’d show your dedication
with a generous donation,
I could use the insulation.
Amen.
W?rdz sp?ld k?'r?kt 'v?rs?s f?'n?t?k'sp?l??
alternately titled fun with phonics
'?lt?rn?tli 'ta?t?ld f?n w?ð 'f?n?ks
analogous when like first learning how to spell American English words
?'næl?g?s w?n la?k f?rst 'l?rn?? ha? tu sp?l ?'m?r?k?n '??gl?? w?rdz
I thought to feign not knowing how to spell American English words
A? ??t tu fe?n n?t 'no??? ha? tu sp?l ?'m?r?k?n '??gl?? w?rdz
and quickly realized the daunting task,
Ænd 'kw?kli 'ri??la?zd ð? 'd?nt?? tæsk,
thus sought magnanimity, gratuity, courtesy...
Google search (phonetic transcription of words) to assist me
Ð?s s?t magnanimity, gr?'tu?ti, 'k?rt?si..
'gug?l s?r? (f?'n?t?k ?træn'skr?p??n ?v w?rdz) tu ?'s?st mi
Words spelled correct versus phonetic spelling
(the latter appended after poem concludes).
Thus now begins feeble attempt
to render rhyme for no reason
appended with phonetic translation
mainly as playful tease zen
synonymous imagining teaching
said exercise to eager children
reminding readers that young
and restless with spotty attention
hear spoken word while in utero,
post natal, subsequently when
he/she parrots parent(s) and/or
guardian, a more deliberate yen
arises to acquire greater cognition,
intuition, question (quest ja hen)
quickly devolving into faux ken
barbed riotous laughter analogous
trying wits of patient comedian/
comedienne resorting quite often
to repetition, remonstration,
reiteration... which frustration
might necessitate taking ten,
or so minutes of intermission
mindful mentor praises pen
ultimate verbal adroit ability
earning healthy treat for recitation,
perhaps recipient exceptionally
eager to advance passing golden
milestone able, ready, and will len
to tackle writing correct spelling,
whence learning to hold pen(cil)
(without being vain) begin men
till process, which next step den
allows, enables and provides sen
sit heave hands on guidance
helping preschooler - all liven
and well with enthusiasm clutch
writing implement fingers open
before gently grasping above ren
during kudos with an amen.
In the silent kingdom of lost seasons, where shadows measure the silence,
A day will dawn when you let the burdens of confession fall like leaves,
An old blanket of crushed convictions, your unwavering testimony grows weary.
You will tire with outstretched hands, carrying the proof of your existence,
You will tire of squinting your eyes towards approval-seeking skies, where clouds care not for aspirations,
You will tire of pouring from your tea, the elixir of validations, into foreign cups,
You will tire, a monk in the temple of understanding, longing for an echo that will not come.
And then, under a moon round as a reconciled zero, you will freeze with revelation,
You need not sell the price of your self, script your breath,
Your presence – a poem in itself, does not require recitation to exist.
You will let go of burdens, opinions, and unsigned words,
You will let winds whistle, cleansing the imagined realities of dust,
You will do your work, immersed in the deaf sound of your own beating heart.
You will exist, you will live, you will be on your crucible path of making a difference,
A play performed behind closed doors, for those with open eyes to see,
A sculpture in the infinity of time, where each serrated hammer leaves a star,
Only for eyes that can open the abysses and see the light from the depths.
And when this day comes, emperor over inner realms,
You will leave behind an untraceable trail of steps, felt but unseen, an impact born from silence,
It will no longer be hard, it will no longer be a struggle, just a free dance at the gates of dawn,
Where each breath is an act of art and each moment – a precious stone.
And then... then you will float, you will float like the sound of a bell on seas of mist,
And you will carve your own tone, and write your own music,
And you will row your boat in white, on the waters of a silver lake,
To shores of hearts that understand the rhythm of your steps, and hold value in tomorrow.
I’m calling the Suicide Hotline,
This sad Cowboy poetry is getting me down,
I’m looking for a happy thought,
But one just can’t be found.
I’ve got a case of Cowboy Melancholy,
Depression of the deepest kind,
A malady that causes Cowboy Poets,
To think only in disparaging rhyme.
Perhaps you’ve not heard of it,
It’s a little talked about affliction,
That sneaks up rather slowly,
And attacks a Cowboy’s diction.
It starts with Cowboys talking,
About having to shoot their horse,
Or the death of the very last Longhorn,
And Cowboy life having run it’s course.
They tell about being stomped by a bronc,
About how women will break your heart,
Don’t say there won’t be no more Cowboys,
Please, just leave out that part.
Death, dismemberment, getting gored,
It makes me sorrowful and morose,
I tell you these gloomy Cowboy poems,
Boarder upon the verbose.
Is there nothing to say that’s amusing?
Or perhaps a bit light-hearted?
Is Cowboy life, nothing but strife,
And all about the dearly departed?
Does any one remember,
When Cowboy poetry was fun?
I tell you we got us a Crisis !
Quick ! Someone call COW-1-1 !!!
We need some recitation resuscitation,
If Cowboy poetry we are to save,
Go easy on that couplet verse,
About Cowboys in unmarked graves.
Hook those paddles to our pencils,
And everyone stand clear,
Shock the daylights out of us,
Till we write Cowboy poetry delightful to hear.
I vote we form a support group,
With a name somewhat synonymous,
A two-step Western program of sorts,
And call it Cowboy Poets Anonymous.
I suppose I could surrender to the urge,
Recite just one poem of despondent refrain,
But I took the oath, and from this day on,
From this Cowboy Curse I’ll try to abstain.
" Hi, my name is ________, (fill in the blank!)
and I’m a Cowboy Poet... "
Copyright © 1999 Debra Coppinger Hill
My never ending
search for whatever
this psychologically gout
riddled rhyme stir to
write (a poem) about
found me figuratively
staring at a theme without doubt
devoid of any "FAKE"
trumping controversial clout,
which subject came in route
tummy mind questioned NOT
explicitly broadcasting best related
most definitely not
apropos to flout
the sensitivity and personal
privacy respectfully tendered
obeyed, and invoked, not to tout
yet an impression can nonetheless
this versatile scout
felt motivated be shared with you
a general over view
the therapist averred thru
the title of this poem, she who
doth "actively listen" pertaining,
asper emotional issues that stew
within the psyche, thus
appreciation as I gentile lee
talked non Jew
bull leant lee of foregone
opportunities till rue
men hating lost chunks of
mine formative years
witnessed self deprivation
(usurped, sponged, and bobbed
entire memory queue)
of ordinary healthy
development of body,
mind, and soul casting
more'n fifty shades
of a grayish hue
my psychological landscape,
where at puberty -
anorexia nervosa (minus bulimia
squarely took root grew)
wing essential nadir existence,
thy emaciated condition drew,
sans Matthew Scott Harris
who recognizes aversion
to grow into manhood blew
away so many necessary figurative
stepping stones permanent
stilted impact didst accrue,
and merely hearing my recitation
of plaintive glue
me emotional reverberations,
now overlain by many
a displeasing faux pas,
and metaphorical boo boo
actions as a father
affecting mindscape
of near grown daughters the "ear"
of assigned therapist
appreciation doth issue.
Mishari Rashid Al Afasy - Rahman - Lyrics & English Translation ?
By Miss Aliza Kashmala Kiran.
Mishari Rashid Al Afasy – Rahman
Rahman means Our Most Merciful Maker The only Allah AlMighty.
Rahman Ya Rahman
Syaidni Ya Rahman
Israh shadri Quran
Imla’ Qalbi Quran
Wasqih hayati Quran
Lillah Lillah
Yahfu’ Amali Lillah
Walil hifdz Kitabillah
Min Awaliy Bismlillah
Lil Khatmi Walir Ridwan
Ya Nur Ya Nur
Ya Muhkamu Ya Tanzil
Li Muhammad’an Jibril
Mir Rabbil Arsyidlil
Lil alamil Wal Insan
Takbir Takbir (Allahu Akbar)
Lilhafidh wahwa Shagyhir
Wadda' ul alayin Qarir
Yahmil Fadjraan Liyunir
Bitilawahtil Akhwan
Allah Allah
Allahummaj ma’ana
Bikitabika wan faa’na
Waj’al hulana hisna
Wahudana abadanuw ama
Rahman Oh Rahman (the Most Merciful)
Aid me Oh Merciful.
Fill my heart with love of the Holy Quran and true Hadis(Saying of Holy Prophet Peace Be Upon Him).
Open my heart to absorb the true saying of Holy Quran
And pour the Quran in my life.
For Allah, For Allah
My desire for Allah is passionate
So i can learn the book of Allah
Start with Bismillah (In the name of Allah)
For the closure (of the Holy Quran) and his approval.
Oh Nur oh Nur (oh light, oh light)
Oh Holy Quran you descended to the graduate,
Onto Muhammad SAW by Jibril A.s,
Guided by the Lord of the Throne
For man and all that exists.
Takbir, Takbir (Allah is the Greatest, Allah is the Greatest).
For the one while young who learnt the Holy Quran.
The eyes illuminate with serenity & content
Bearing the light of the Fajr (dawn) shining,
And the universe enriched the recitation.
Allah Allah gather us together by your Holy book Al Quran.
And make it beneficent for all creatures of Allah AlMighty.
Make it our fortress.
Our tranquility & our eternal guide.
By Miss Aliza Kashmala Kiran.
Death dies herself and does not damage
Those who advance ahead underailed,
Following the prints of the wise pioneers
Whom He imparts the secrets of wisdom.
At downward dive heart beats thumpingly,
And aches as one feels on an oscillating swing
With long ropes when moves to and fro
Between two extremes with hissing moves,
Fearing lest one should crash to fragments.
I landed upon the world underworld,
Before the sunrise, in the moment of morn,
And roved about the too simple mosque
With open lawn and low boundary walls.
Entering through the gateless entrance,
I sat on the ground, gazed at the outer setting.
A slight afar flowed and winding river,
The lush green bushes stooped along,
The banks and brims of the serpentine track.
One by one then entered natives of the land,
Taking seats they sat in the rows straight
On the unwrapped mats made of palm leaves,
They all gathered for the prayers of morn,
And sat I in the end as my merit allowed.
Then one prominent, in the dress simple,
With a piece of white cloth wrapped around
His head, neither tall nor short,
With round sanguine face and grizzled beard
Of moderate length,
Abased in front of all to lead the prayers.
Recitation of verses imbued the heart,
With serene pure pleasure.
Then hands were raised for more blessings,
Before the crowed dispersed, a man squatted left,
Told me the name and place the Imam belonged to,
“Departed He centuries ago yet is known well,
A winding river flows beside His shrine,
Though often it surges to the brims spilling,
Yet causes no rumpus, passes in serene hush.”
A desire then emerged to esteem the adorable,
By kissing the feet of reverend dervish,
But declined He the act of caressing the feet.
Hear this recitation
the Lenape nation
bore a child of extreme size,
in the Onteoras,
the Catskills of yore now,
this man would live out his whole life.
Winisook was his name,
and he gained local fame
from standing at seven feet tall,,
to the red men and white
this guy was quite a site,
they’d not seen someone like him at all.
On the Hudson frontier,
way back in olden years,
a good trade between peoples was known,
be it trade guns or wives
they did find ways to thrive,
and many wild oats were sown.
Yes, the man Winisook
by a woman was took,
a girl named Gertrude Molyneux,
she returned his great love,
prayed to her God above
that they’re affections would prove true.
But her family did not quite feel the same,
said Winisook was the savage kind,
fear their honor dead if she went to his bed,
and pressured her to change her mind.
Despite her feeling down,
ahe sadly came around,
afraid she’d bring her family shame,
but the man that they chose
was known for some great lows,
and Joseph Bundy was his name.
A son of the Dutchmen,
she was pushed to wed him,
and below the peaks they did live,
but Bundy was shady,
he gambled, had ladies,
misery was all he could give.
Winisook felt saddened,
more than a bit maddened,
but at this point should he persist?
So he tried to forget her,
his beloved lover,
not knowing her heart remained his.
His efforts brought nothing,
he could not stop loving,
would speak with her when Joe was gone.
she’d not deny her heart,
or from his be apart
even if people might call it wrong.
Off to the mountains the two made their way,
to where Winisook’s tribe did abide,
he took her as wife and they set up their life,
and soon three fine children arrived...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.