Long Tien Poems
Long Tien Poems. Below are the most popular long Tien by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tien poems by poem length and keyword.
DEMI sonnet a TIEN love sequence
Dear one where have you been,I missed you so
Come here, what can I say to make you stay
Why would you go when love is so near
Pray leave the past , your love can fill this void
Come let us dance in step, close up once more
A hug, a kiss, hold me, tell me you're mine
Let us wed,wear my ring, make this heart sing
a TIEN is a ten , one syllable word sentence with no title I derived from Tichborne' s famous elegy.
you may hear me read most of my PS anthology( now approaching 4000 poems)on youtube clips under my pen name ichthyschiro
catch my short forms thereof @strandpoet on twitter and on my numerous
kindle ebooks on Amazon
2025.03.06
Dear God,
I humbly kneeled in front of you.
Please blessed and protected me.
I have lived many years,
Why did I develope this feelings?
To someone who had heart of coals.
I wished I could resolve and remove,
All the emotional pain,
And stick to my single life's plan.
Tomorrow will be another day again,
From sun rises to sun sets.
All I want is to remember how to forget,
That would be the best solution.
Time will pass and heal all wounds.
But how soon, indeed how soon.
There was a saying in one of my language,
To an old husband, young wife was liked heaven.
To an old wife, young husband meant payments.
Amen.
Troi cao co thau,
Cuoi xin nguoi ban phuoc cho doi con.
Qua bao tuoi doi.
Moi gap duoc nguoi minh men yeu.
Thuong nho yeu chieu.
Nho nhung doan truong xot da,
Uoc gi co the to ra,
Dem long nho thuong nguoi dan nuoc la,
Roi thoi gian cung se troi qua
Moi tinh lan dan suot cuot doi ta.
Trot yeu nguoi khong yeu minh
Chi la gay dan cuoc tinh gian do.
Yeu chi cho kho doi ta.
Co le minh pham kiep dao hoa.
Co ngay no se troi qua
De duoc song mot minh thoi tha.
Chong gia vo tre la tien
Chong tre vo gia la tien bo ra
Once called a fairy tale, it endures the test of time,
While man’s reason falters and philosophers resign.
From Epicureans lost and ancient pagans gone,
Christianity’s story steadfastly marches on.
Once called atheists by the Romans
Ironically they have the doldrums
Its plot, its heart, cannot be stripped away,
No morals, no miracles, no truth without its sway.
Other faiths may linger when the wonders have begun,
Yet strip the Bible’s marvels, and its story is undone.
God become Man the tale that makes (not breaks) our rules,
No legend or teaching from any other wise or ancient schools
Dares claim Incarnation, love descending from the skies
A philosopher’s tale for children, but for grown and searching eyes.
Where are these philosophers today? Have they not all gone away:
Lucretius, Julian the Apostate, Averroes, The Gnostics of the ancient world
Voltaire, La Mettrie, Ayer and those who reason in a destructive whirl?
No Buddha, no Socrates, nor prophet in the East,
Would dare declare themselves as God, or take on this Holy Paraclete:
If you ask the Buddha, "Are you the son of Brahma?"
He would have said "You’re in the veil of illusion to even ask” comma
If you would have asked Socrates, are you Zeus?"
he would have scowled then laughed at you
If you ask Confucius, "Are you in heaven, Tien?
“It is bad taste in a polite society to ask.” He would have said
If you would ask Muhammad, "Are you Allah?" he would have rent
his clothes in rage and then probably cut off your head.
Yet Jesus, among all others, declared divinity,
So the tale persists, a mystery for eternity.
Reason remains but doubters pass, their systems now mislaid,
But the tale of Incarnation this miracle remains unswayed.
A philosopher’s tale that lives as fact, a story hard to sever,
The heart of faith and meaning, enduring now, forever.
On the Christian anvil many hammers have been exhausted
Just precisely because of what it costed
By Phan Tan Hai
I learned to write poetry from the days of youth,
within the musical forms you brought into the world;
in radiant autumn afternoons,
in sky-frames fragrant with memories,
in late-night seasons of pale moonlight,
in the rainstorms of music you poured over my childhood.
You appeared like the sun,
bringing showers of joyful music to this world;
because this realm is the First Noble Truth, you wrote music to bring peace;
because this realm is impermanent, you wrote music to point toward the deathless;
because this realm is full of violence, you wrote music to quiet the human heart;
because this realm is swollen with pride, you wrote music to offer humility and loving-kindness;
because this realm is stained with impurity, you wrote music to make spring eternally beautiful.
I learned from your music to write my own lines of poetry—
asking whether this word brings peace, helping people leave the realm of suffering;
whether this word points to the deathless, helping people flow with impermanence;
whether this word stills the heart, helping people leave the world’s harshness;
whether this word carries humility and compassion, helping people see no-self and abandon pride;
whether this word makes spring eternally beautiful, an offering to countless Buddha-lands.
You lived a quiet life while your music was sung across the sky;
you hid yourself in the most silent places while your music became the world’s breath;
you lived as if from nowhere, and lived as if returning nowhere;
you lived seeing no boundary between self and others;
you lived like a drifting cloud, leaving no trace in this world.
And then your music became the gentle rain and favorable wind,
extinguishing the fires that besiege the three realms,
making forests and mountains greener,
offering boundless joy to humankind,
teaching people to listen to the far shore—
teaching them to listen to the far shore,
teaching them to listen
beyond the sound of music,
when you released your hands from the instrument,
smiled, lay down, and rested in peace.
— To offer condolences to Cung Nhat Thanh and family. June 2022.