Long Saki Poems
Long Saki Poems. Below are the most popular long Saki by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Saki poems by poem length and keyword.
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The Goblet of Desire
Saki! Come pour the wine in cups of yearning
My heart is bleeding, pour the goblet's blood,
The Tavern has its fame from your beguiling eyes
Your lovely eyes' intoxicant pour in the cup!
The flower garden is no match to steal my heart
Your face's flower petals are usurpers fine,
Your ruby lip so life-giving is spring of youth
The red ruby of life pour down upon my lips!
The flower petal rubs its breast upon the thorn
The eye-lashes of morning dew to prick the flowers veins,
The fingers of musicians do caress the spirit's harp
The heart of bottle open and fill up the veins with fire!
Lighted is the Tavern with the radiance of your face
You steal the heart with so much charm dear love,
A glance from you can stir the wine to dance,
Come pour till the morning the mixture that cures the heart!
The Tavern is a shelter for the heart which is afflicted
The burning heart and tearful eyes are precious,
The cries we have are those from the night of disappointment
To quench my thirst pour down a river running full of wine!
The Tavern is the realm reserved for hostages of sorrow
The cries are only translators of painfully sad nights,
The world of those who feel is such a sweet and lovely world
Whatever love you're carrying, pour everything right here!
Qasem Ghazanfar,
Translated from the Persian
by the author
In the dream that came
in the deluge of fever
that plagued my
body last night,
I glimpsed what could be a future version of ourselves.
As if, perhaps, the heat from my brow
could briefly burn the cloudiness
from my nocturne and
psychic eye?
We sit around a large table in
a Japanese garden
drinking saki
and raising a toast
to both of our families.
Celebration is in the air
with the two of us as honored guests,
The ebony table groans with feast and flowers.
Your eyes meet mine and we smile with
the power of all the lovers of all the ages.
Flash forward, in traditional dream-style...
A small, blond and beautiful little boy
pumps his legs and arms across a green lawn
and dashes into my waiting arms,
freckled skin and shining hair damp
from being in the pool
where you have been teaching him
how to dive for pennies.
I pick him up and we twirl around.
Cognizant of the way his arm clutches my neck,
the way he smells, the weight of his body, the timber of his voice,
I am holding my son!
I look into his eyes and see the perfect balance
of yours and mine reflected back.
His eyes are shining as he proudly shows me
his treasure,
although he is ours to treasure now.
Another skip in time, substantial, though vague...
We sit together beneath a cottonwood
holding hands. Breath locked into a familiar cadence.
Our hands look much different now,
gnarled, like old tree branches.
Sunlight streams through the trees and our fingers
we sit quietly
breathing
only the birds intrude
on the peaceful solitude we have each managed
to find during our life together.
Fleeting dreams of a fevered mind,
Perhaps mean nothing
but perhaps I may have
spanned the whole of my life
in one sweat-drenched
night.
If this fair flower blossom not, The bulbul will not sing,
Nor rose-buds make the garden smile welcoming in the spring;
If he is not the saki, then nor jar nor wine will be,
Nor in this world will tawhid shine, Nor your heart beat in you;
Yonder ethereal skyey tent, This great name still sustains,
And dancing to its music, flows the blood in Life’s own veins.
It is in the forests and the hills, And on the tranquil plains,
On the seas, in the arms of waves, In roar of hurricanes;
A music heard in China’s towns, Morocco’s desert-song,
And hid within each Muslim’s heart, It makes his faith grow strong.
Let all the peoples of the world see till the end of time,
How I have made this glorious name beyond all thought sublime!
That pupil of the eye of Earth, Soil only dark men tread,
That region where have always been your martyrs born and bred,
That land upon the hot sun’s lap, That land of al-hilal,
Which lovers fondly love to call The land of their Bilal,--
Is all a-quiver with this Name, Like trembling mercury,
Like pupils dark, in pools of light, It swims perpetually!
Your shield be wisdom, be your sword the flaming Love Divine,
My fond dervish! do you not know that all the world is yours?
All else but God is at your feet, If sounds your Takbeer great;
If you a Muslim truly are, Your effort is your fate.
To my Muhammad be but true, And you have conquered me;
The world is nothing you will command My Pen of Destiny.
Kalam e Iqbal (The Answer to complaint by Allah AlMighty to Pious Muslim on their Kind Complaint)
Translated By Aliza Kashmala Kiran.
From the cradle to the grave,
from A to Z ...
the wrath of my youth
has been wine-pressed out of me
When the dark zythum mellows with time,
American me
need no longer anger ferment lament
I don’t have to keg pall bear the Egyptian brew —
carry the toxic, tainted taste
of slavery mentality
to the waiting black funeral hearst
As has been written: the first shall suffer worst,
the rejected people of God will carry the curse
Redemption of healing only comes
when we call
on the Prince of Peace Physician to pacify nurse
Yes, the American zythum
has mellowed in my mind
The process of dampening the rage
has perfected the inner calmness over time
Good fermentation ... good tasting wine
Peace was given to American me,
not the kind that make you forgetful and groggy
Egyptian white rice
boiled to super saki specification
Serene recipe that made me standstill,
not riot burn down the nation
American zythum wasn’t given to my red friends,
when the blue eyes
were passing around the peace pipe
War paint on the pirate ships’ flags
hoisted at night wasn’t white
Surrendering to the rage
woulda caused me to forfeit my disenfranchised life
American zythum ... Egyptian brew
Come taste how my anger got peacefully subdued,
how the hot emotional coals got cooled
Privileged pale ones
take this strong concoction
of American zythum ... Egyptian brew
Pour it into my homeless cup,
and let me offer
your lips to suffer
a decadent swallow or two
Do you love to stand upright for the truth?
Or do you love it more,
bending to lies
At an acute angle forty five
Degrees of false moderation
permits you to have
an unhealthy tolerance for half-pint truth
Do you have a taste
for liquor moral malaise?
If so, be prepared
to be put on the Prohibition list
Falling off the righteous wagon,
honest to goodness
It will get you crossed off
the Untouchable list
Those blessed ones,
who withstood the bumpy road ride
In perfidious times,
they passed the temptation test
Don’t you know that swaying minds,
which move left to right,
is the belly roll of snake eyes
Rattle those dice, if you venom care to
Eat the burnt rice, if you saki dare do
Taking the Seventh Calvary hate charge,
the bayonet bullet dive ...
Is gonna get you crossed off the saintly list —
Let you receive a brimstone kiss
And when Resurrection time come,
you ain’t gonna be
abundance of charity missed
Lack of compassion is what
will get you crossed off the celestial list
And when Infinity shine time come,
those who loved
basking in dark light:
The iniquitous glow
of Black hole souls
will get the Paradise Lost
candle blow —
Inherit the wind
the empty bosom treasure chest
Mercifully so,
those diamond heart souls
will cease to exist ...
When they get crossed off the list
JACK DANIELS met JIM BEAM at the CANADIAN CLUB
to discuss their upcoming trip on the CUTTY SARK.
They were planning a vacation to a Caribbean cove
to get some SOUTHERN COMFORT.
JOHNNY WALKER, who had a disagreement with
them over their SLOE GIN game, wanted to
give them a SAKI. "VODKA ya think you're doing?"
chimed in GIBSON, who was a BEEFEATER sitting nearby.
"It's not like EARLY TIMES...so just wipe that
SMIRNOFF your face." A brawl would have started,
but a beautiful woman came in. "Look at them
COURVOISIERs," said the MARTIN MILLERs.
They noticed her ring with the BLUE SAPHIRE from
BOMBAY.
JACK DANIELS immediately lost interest in the argument,
and asked if he could sit with her. She agreed and he sat
down. He noticed that she had a B & B monogram on her blouse.
"I've not seen you here before...what's your name and where
are you from?" he asked.
In a charming southern accent she replied, "Ma name is
MARGARITA, Ahm new in town, and Ahm from HENNESSY."
When the waiter came over, they ordered two MINT JULEPS.
It was the start of a relationship that the DEWARS of them
enjoyed, especially when they bowled SCOTCH doubles together.
JACK DANIELS met JIM BEAM at the CANADIAN CLUB to discuss their upcoming trip on the
CUTTY SARK. They were planning to go south for some SOUTHERN COMFORT, but when the
ship had a fire, they thought they might have to SCOTCH their plans.
JOHNNY WALKER, who had a disagreement with them over their SLOE GIN game, wanted to
give them both a SAKI in the nose. "VODKA ya think you're doing?! cried JIM and JACK.
"It's not like EARLY TIMES!!"
CAPTAIN MORGAN came over, and BRANDY, the waitress, brought his VO to their table. He
tried to calm things down by talking about his last trip. "How BLUE CURACAO was...and the
mornings were alive with the TULLAMORE DEW!" He said.
"You've got a lot of GALIANO...to interrupt us like this!!" They RUMbled.
Before a TRIPLE SEC had passed, the CHRISTIAN BROTHERS were there to calm all the
DEWERS down and restore a HYPNOTIQ sense of peace, ALIZE for the time being.
For their efforts, they were awarded with shouts of SHIRAZ and the thanks of the king of the
club. He was not wearing his 7 CROWN, but instead, his CROWN ROYALE.
So how do you like your sushi
just sashimi on a plate?
or do you prefer it wrapped in nori?
decorated with microgreens and eggs?
And is there wasabi?
that heat to the tongue?
just a dash or a dab?
Does it make your nose run?
Do you dip in soy?
or is it the modern aminos?
without that salty it seems a bit drab....
Do you like your fish as an appetizer to your meal
or can it be the main course?
Do you want a bit of surf and turf
alternating between beef and fish
culinary exertion almost unreal?
Start with seaweed salad, edamame or just some simple hot green tea?
And is it chopsticks or handrolls?
or do you eat with your hands?
Are there other accompanying tricks?
I long to hear of your distinguishing traits
as you tempt me with your stories and wit
So tell me your tales of sushi
and I will tell you mine
And then perhaps we shall have some saki
and find another way to pass the time
- Do you like it raw? - Artimus (C) Susan Manley 6/15/2024 2:48PM
Yeah... I am a bit salty today
There’s a fella I know.
He is noble.
He is kind.
He is silent.
He is still.
There’s a fella I know.
I mean to say, I know I don’t know.
He isn’t noble.
He isn’t kind.
These are my words, for him.
For this cat.
He is a cat.
He is not these words.
He sees beyond words,
He sees beyond worlds.
He is a cat.
He knows that words are the cages we attempt to trap meaning in.
He sees meaning and meaninglessness. He sees no difference.
He is a cat.
I call him grey.
I call him gray.
I call him content.
I call him graceful.
I call him Saki.
(its the name given him)
(though it's not his name)
He is a cat.
These words are for me, though seemingly given him.
He is a cat.
Out beyond ideas of word and meaning,
there is a field mouse.
“I’ll eat you there.”
He is a cat.
He is not that
that I call him.
He is a cat.
He is a cat.
I call him Saki.
her brown skinned
body laying atop a
table top covered
by a white table
cloth but she is
naked yet dressed
as a buffet with
delights to eat
placed like plates
for to be self served
my finger tips imitate
chop sticks to take
the taste of her now
noodle hair with
seaweed eye brows
following further down
her cuisine figurine
fingering disoriented
flavors and spices
sipping the saki shot
puddling her bellybutton
pairing with her pear
hips where sit not fig
greens but the earthy
shiso leaves that by
uncovering these find
two slices of raw tuna
sashimi dripping blow
fish soup the deadly
delicacy i immediately
drink licking her bowl
clean liking her sticky
rice inner thighs i
find no longer fingers
but my tongue turning
over the table now
able to smell pickled
ginger and inhaling
the heat of
wasabi
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