Long Shrine Poems
Long Shrine Poems. Below are the most popular long Shrine by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shrine poems by poem length and keyword.
The house is a shrine to your memory.
Each object I polish so carefully chosen,
So lovingly purchased and placed with care.
Every touch reminiscent of when you were there.
Each picture a petrified moment of happiness.
Frozen, hovering in the space of yesterday.
Suspended with the echoing laughter,
And the music of your soul - when we were whole.
The slideshow in my mind on replay accompanied
By the haunting soundtrack of our love.
Piece by piece I collect our memories, and
Turn off the camera in my mind as I close my eyes.
Suddenly I cry again; remember our goodbye again.
Each object brings a tear, every picture tells a story,
so lovingly written and told with care.
Every word reminiscent of when you were there.
854.
Our Sunrise During PBBM – Part 2
(1) Behold in 2023: Year of the Rabbit
From “BBM” projects the Filipinos benefit
“Build Better More” for Infrastructural Innovations
“Broad Band ng Masa” for Information & Communications
(2) “Batang Busog Malusog” for hungry children
“Trabaho Para sa Bayan” for jobless brethren
MIF for our country's national economy
RCEP for our country's trade & industry
(3) “Buhay Ingatan, Droga'y Ayawan”
Became the nation's anti-drug slogan
“Love the Philippines” despite leftist criticism
Was made the slogan for tourism
(4) During PBBM's 2nd Year in office
Manila became popular among many cities
It's heralded as “The World's Leading City Destination”
By the World Travel Awards recognition
(5) Bohol became a UNESCO Global Geopark in the country
Iloilo City became a “City of Gastronomy”
Kalinga did the “World's Largest Banga Dance”
And also the “World's Largest Gong Ensemble” performance
(6) Also during PBBM's 2nd Year as President
Philippine churches were made magnificent
Quiapo Church turned into a national shrine
Antipolo Cathedral an international shrine
(7) Robert Walcher won as “Mr. Teen” in Thailand
John Lloyd Cruz won as “Best Actor” in Switzerland
Carlos Yulo garnered golds in International Gymnastics
EJ Obiena harvested golds in International Athletics.
-12/30/2023
(Dumarao… Rizal Day)
*“Our Sunrise During Marcos” collection
Dear Romeo,
There is no time on the clock that does not hold your memory. There is always a breeze in the air that carries the essence of your presence.
The most pleasurable sight of my entire life is the lotus I have. My lord of life and love, I offer you my purest feelings, for they are the only treasure I possess—a collection of years, the purest of the pure and the sweetest of the sweet.
I have nothing but vivid images in which you looked so beautiful and soft, like a flower.
I cried hard, but love did not vanish into the sea of seven tears—neither the love from my heart nor the flame of you from my mind.
This Valentine’s Day, I am still waiting for you, this time far away in an unknown land.
My dear Romeo, a day will come when time shall turn, and I shall find you, for love never goes unrewarded.
In this city of temples, I will worship in every shrine for years, praying for our union. And I hope you will come from the city of trains.
May you glow more and more in the moonlight as you watch over my balcony.
My moon-like Romeo.
Autumn ultimately receives it all -
Painted in bald bohemian design,
A poet’s sacred inspiration shrine -
Nevertheless not exempt from the fall.
Winter ultimately trumps with cold swing -
Triumphant yet frigid, monochrome muse,
Sublimating into slumbering blues -
Nevertheless not immune to the spring.
Spring ultimately renews with fresh whiff -
Splendour of colours ignites the world hued,
Young fauna run around with zest imbued -
Nevertheless not spared from summer's sniff.
Summer ultimately shines bright with cheer -
The ocean blows in soft breeze on waves white,
Morning swims and evening walks, hearts delight,
Nevertheless not secure from Fall's sneer.
Form: Enclosed Rhyme (10 syllables)
29th March 2023
ON LOOKING AT SCHILLER’S SKULL
by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here in this charnel-house full of bleaching bones,
like yesteryear’s
fading souvenirs,
I see the skulls arranged in strange ordered rows.
Who knows whose owners might have beheaded peers,
packed tightly here
despite once repellent hate?
Here weaponless, they stand, in this gentled state.
These arms and hands, they once were so delicate!
How articulately
they moved! Ah me!
What athletes once paced about on these padded feet?
Still there’s no hope of rest for you, lost souls!
Deprived of graves,
forced here like slaves
to occupy this overworld, unlamented ghouls!
Now who’s to know who loved one orb here detained?
Except for me;
reader, hear my plea:
I know the grandeur of the mind it contained!
Yes, and I know the impulse true love would stir
here, where I stand
in this alien land
surrounded by these husks, like a treasurer!
Even in this cold,
in this dust and mould
I am startled by an a strange, ancient reverie, …
as if this shrine to death could quicken me!
One shape out of the past keeps calling me
with its mystery!
Still retaining its former angelic grace!
And at that ecstatic sight, I am back at sea ...
Swept by that current to where immortals race.
O secret vessel, you
gave Life its truth.
It falls on me now to recall your expressive face.
I turn away, abashed here by what I see:
this mould was worth
more than all the earth.
Let me breathe fresh air and let my wild thoughts run free!
What is there better in this dark Life than he
who gives us a sense of man’s divinity,
of his place in the universe?
A man who’s both flesh and spirit—living verse!
To The Muse
by Friedrich Schiller
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I do not know what I would be,
without you, gentle Muse!,
but I’m sick at heart to see
those who disabuse.
Keywords/Tags: Goethe, Schiller, German, Germany, translation, skull, bones, body, charnel, house, grave, best friend, friendship love, funeral, souls, soulmate, ghosts, spirit, flesh, dead, death, shrine, divinity, universe
Flower I hold in hand, delicate as your sweet charm
Reaffirms my love, and feelings of amorous warmth
Idyllic like your serene beauty, petals are made of glee
Surrounded by ardent leaves of treasured memories
Color is your favorite pink, but the aroma is my wish
Searching nectar like a honeybee, adorning my plea
Never could I say enough, without help of eternal
Delivering blissful message, from my heart to yours
Yes, I wrote the verses but the words are not mine
They were custom-made to worship in your shrine
When you hear my inner voice urging for your reply
A gentle tug of heart exhilarates fervid eyes to smile
Scripting affectionate cherish of happy-valentine song
For love has always known, to each other we belong
February 13, 2018
Placed first in contest # 545 by Brian Strand
This is where I come to cry....
I hold my breath, my mouth is dry
with dreadful words too hard to tell
This is where I come to kneel
The grave where flesh and stone and steel
lie fused as one
A shrine to mourn and shed our tears
and pray for peace
to One who holds the earth in place
The sound of pain blows in the wind
I lift my eyes up high, to Him
and, there I see where dark wings flew
We did not know the world would fall
It came to pass where there is hate
we learned too late to change the end
The smoke will drift as new winds blow
Where does it go, those waves of war?
No one knows ....the time, ..the place, or when,
but it will come, and that is sure
once more with shores to seek and scores to keep
....and then, and then, and then, ....
more will weep!...Will it be here... will it be there?
Will it remain, on far off shores?
Or at our door?
War for them, and war for us, and one by one, and on and on, it goes and goes
The rush of wind to win the race, of war and pain.
And war remains to gust again. Again again...to rain more tears
How will it end...? The end of man...? Is that our fate...?
Bow down the heart, for man has made a rule of war
Bow down the heart, for man has made us fools for war
Will sun and moon and stars look down, and look for proof ...
of why the world went ......poof ?
_________________________________________________
Inspired by... All those houses that long to be homes again.
For our house to become a home forever
By Michelle Morris
20/08/2024
I walk through this empty house
And can see it used to be a home
Filled with joy and laughter
A family who shared fun times
There are photos suspended in frames
Filled with memories and smiling moments
There are knick-knacks collected together
Some funny; and some meaningful
Where the sunlight dips through the window
I can see dust motes dancing in swirls
The family dog lounges in his sacred space
On the chaise lounge near the fireplace
Looking closer you start to notice things
Like only photos of young children are present
Every room is like a museum
Or a shrine to a perfect past wish
For we easily forget certain facts and details
In our yearning to keep certain memories perfect
We want to be able to reminisce
And act like things once went smoothly
But the dust has thickened over the years
The cobwebs house spiders that have taken over corners of rooms
The light has grown dim inside this house
And inside hearts where love was once pure
Funny how humans can take something beautiful
And twist it up and test it over and over
Until nothing is left but hearts spent
Empty and oftentimes bitter and resentful
I walk through rooms where time has stood still
I walk through rooms where life has moved on
And everywhere, everywhere there is hopelessness
For love and light no longer reside here
Bricks and mortar and pretty fabrics
Only create a decorated space for us to live
We have to choose who we share it with
And we have to choose how we will forge our lives together
Only with compassion and kindness
Loyalty, patience and respect
Can we create a nurturing environment
For our house to become a home forever
© Michelle Morris, 2024
Patradoot or The Messenger 6/Many
English version by
Ravindra K Kapoor
The journey is long, lonely and the path deserted,
You have to pass a long way dear,
Leaving the bank of river Suryu*
You have to take a dip in the holy river Ganges.*
Ravindra
Kanpur India. 14th May 2010 to continue in 7
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
Transliteration of Hindi poem in English- Patradoot or the Messenger.
Marg Vilumbit Soon San Hai,
Patra Tujhe Jana Ho Ga,
Saryu Tut Ko Chor,
Janhvi Mai Gote Khana Hoga.
Patradoot in Hindi written by
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor
Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections
* Saryu. A river of North India which is flows near the jail
Of Faizabad where Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor was
Was imprisoned and wrote this wonderful epic.
He was a follower of Mahatma Gandhi and
Believed in non-violence only.
*Ganges. River Ganges, which meets at Holy shrine
Place Allahabad, famous for the Sangam of two rivers.
It is also the place were the writers beloved was residing,
Embodying the human spirit, the inukshuk can serve as a spiritual symbol, a ceremonial site, a place of worship, a place of judgment and decision making or a site to gather and celebrate. Regardless of their function, inuksuit are venerated by the Inuit for their history and ancestral value.
sacred touchstone
hub of present and
generations past
Published in my photo/haibun anthologies ~PRIMITIVE~ 2019 and ~ANCESTRAL VOICES~ 2019
AP: Honorable Mention 2020