Long Turks Poems
Long Turks Poems. Below are the most popular long Turks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Turks poems by poem length and keyword.
"Timbales" are kettledrums from France and Spain; "Pauken" in Germany and "timpani" in other countries.
Greece, Middle East and ancient Egypt have kettledrums long time ago. Medieval crusaders in the 13th century brought nakers or small kettle drums in Europe for military purposes, specifically for signalling.
During the 15th century, Turks and Mongols used larger kettle drums for military processions.
Kettledrums are widely known as musical instruments in the 16th, 17th and 19th centuries.
When Greeks used the word "tympanon" for kettledrums as percussion instruments, Hebrews and modern Egyptians used similar drums for solemn rites, family gatherings and other special occasions.
Down the line after many centuries from its earliest roots, "timpani" (in plural form) is the commonly used word for kettledrums in both music and cultural entertainment. Kettledrums are made of copper or fiberglass in the form of bowls.
Kettledrums are lifeless objects, but the fairies and good elementals on earth give life to all other motionless entities. Material things around us may appear abstract, weird or odd, but it's only the human mind that can create life out of nothing.
If you play the accordion, harmonica, violin, bajo, piano, guitar, sitar, banduria, banjo, harp, Japanese Koto, Brazilian Tagima, African Kora, cymbals, gongs or any other instrument, playing the kettledrums can also be fun and worth the time. Don't forget to share your smiles and laughter with others! Life is an everlasting cycle of good and kindness. Stay good, grateful and beautiful!
There was a man named Kaldi who herded sheep
He fed them berries in Ethiopia but they could not sleep
He then told his friends and they tried them, too
Soon everyone worked harder and said goodbye to curfews
Not 600 years later, it had spread through the Arabian Peninsula
Then Turkey, Egypt, Persia, and Syria
There was a terrible time when the Turks invaded Hungary
But rumor has it that is when they brought coffee
From 1520 on the story goes
Coffee spilled through Europe and put people on their toes
But many people in the church they had their concerns
They called it Satanic and in hell coffee drinkers would burn
But Pope Clement VIII he gave the bitter drink his blessing
Then in 1670s London King Charles II took to his own messing
There were fears of coffee meetings and political uprisings
But by the end of the 1600s Kings Arms of Manhattan cafe was jiving
It was brought by the Dutch to New Amsterdam
People preferred tea and beer but would give coffee a chance
Decades went by and they sipped, worked, and danced
But by 1773 something forever changed the fate
Of not just coffee but the colonies' reason to celebrate
King George III went wild with tea taxes
Revolutionaries rebelled by the masses
They had the Boston Tea Party and then the war
America was born and it opened a door
Not just for freedom but the bitter, once Satanic drink
It changed the way people socialize and the way that they think
From Ethiopia to Turkey to England and the US we have Kaldi to thank and our minds to impress
In Ankara and Moscow,
the ground is crimson red ~
a carpet spread on fields once green.
Life’s fluid, like red gold,
flows as scarlet runoffs into Ottoman rivers –
lifestreams of Rossiyane and Turks
spilled from their inner oceans.
Their bones ~
lifeless as strings of dead fish,
litter seas once full of life.
The tears of fatherless children fill the Black Sea,
their futures blown away with fury
by eastern winds.
Jerusalem bleeds from both ends,
wrecking balls thrown into homes ~
toys for corpses in silent graves,
on fields crawling with poisonous snakes,
ready to strike and kill.
Bombs care not which breasts they rip babies from ~
babies cling to lifeless mothers,
suckling the last drops of milk.
Yet the blasts never falter,
snuffing life from the babies too.
Homes in Gaza are occupied by disaster.
Dark clouds of war cover their skies,
rains mixed with volcanic dust of missiles.
Bitterness is worshipped now as religion
on both sides of the divide,
where though blood runs the same red,
the colour of faces matters more
when bombs rain upon their homes.
Again in Tehran, bombs fall as flying storms
upon homes,
raging fire sweeping streets
like a plunderer in the night ~
chasing orphans into mangled alleys,
searching for parents under piles of dead bodies,
while dodging rollercoasters of bullets
spinning daily.
The UN is dumb to bombs,
its sole purpose to oppress ~
letting untouchables keep their nuclear weapons,
breathing down weaker necks to keep theirs away.
The powerful keep getting more powerful,
the weak keep getting weaker…
to stop the world from writing its obituary while still alive,
or so they claim.
Yet each day, the world keeps bleeding.
But who will unbind these fetid wounds,
or must we rot into our end?
Across troop ship bow the cliffs drew nearer
and into harm’s way mighty battalions drove -
men and mule upon cold waves of terror
stormed the beachhead landings on Anzac Cove.
The digger Dogs of War unleashed again
an Expeditionary Force by sea,
in hallowed ground of brave infantrymen
lie the bones of Empires in Gallipoli.
Great southern blue, red and white standard stars
in battle hymn out of Commonwealth port,
where the flame of liberty fiercely chars
every bleeding heart whose sons fell and fought.
A hundred years ago soldiers in a world at war
battled on a foreign shore
for King ‘n Country, God ‘n Corps.
The battle was lost, the Great War won,
their sacrifice laid bare, their duty done.
We march at dawn for mate and vet
and to remember the fallen Lest We Forget!
Sappers, farmers, salesmen, drovers and clerks -
young men and boys their slouch hats wore,
and in steep gullies and ravines fought the Turks
like when on the velt they fought the Boer.
In muddy trench and bunker riflemen joining
charged the lines on Ottoman ancient land,
loud shellfire through dead night and dawning
fell in great battle Anzac’s finest stand!
On Lone Pine, Dead Man’s Ridge, Chunuk Bair
the battlefield told a colony’s tale,
beyond those cliffs soon would her bugles blare
in Palestine, Fromelles and Passchendaele.
A hundred years ago soldiers in a world at war
battled on a foreign shore
for King ‘n Country, God ‘n Corps.
The battle was lost, the Great War won,
their sacrifice laid bare, their duty done.
We march at dawn for mate and vet
and to remember the fallen Lest We Forget!
Raise the flag and let us honour the slew
whose battle is over - the glory and the ghost
of those men of valour in distant graves who
stood their ground and stood their post!
Written: April 2015
You hear it said a lot these days,
“Reparations! Someone must pay!
Our ancestors suffered, it’s true!
For that we’ve come to take from you!”
Now we could just point out the fact
none of us were alive that far back,
that sin can never be passed down,
we’re sovereign actors, here and now,
we did not commit these mistakes,
and by no right can you come take
what we have earned through our hard work,
that doing so makes you a jerk;
but I think it’s more fun, my friends,
to stretch this crap out to its end...
Since slaves were taken, long ago,
I think it’s important we know
that Europeans could not seize,
Africa killed them with disease.
It was done by the ruling blacks,
a method they used to attack
their local tribal opponents,
take people to their detriment,
so black Americans should try
to get cash from all of those tribes,
go to the west African states,
they should be targets of your hate,
they own you cash, they did the deed!
So listen closely, and take heed,
all of your woke recriminations
should target west African nations!
But why stop with colors of skin,
that’s not where slavery begins,
eighty million African victims
were seized by slavers quite Muslim,
and marched north to the Middle East,
castrated so they could not breed,
worked to death by Mohammedans,
Africa deserves cash from them!
And Europe too, one million souls
seized by corsairs, then bought and sold,
when will the Muslims pay for that?
They owe Europe and should give back!
An even greater debt is owed
to the Greeks who ruled eastern Rome,
their lands invaded by the Turks,
it’s stolen land, repay that hurt!
Anatolia, the Levant,
Northern Egypt, taken! Gone!
This truly has gone out of hand,
Muslims, return the stolen land!
And what about little old me?
I’m owed money by Britain, see,
for what they did to my Irish kin,
during the potato famine!
We were driven from our soil,
and before that, forced to toil
for those damn Saxon conquerors,
I am owed money for that hurt!
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Turks swept into Smyrna, set it aflame
Europe stood watching—silence its stain.
Desperate Christians crowded the Quay
Hoping for ships to take them away.
The crowd was missing women of marriageable age
Turkish forces had taken them, lets close that page
Some men swam to the boats, but orders said no
Sailors with bayonets pushed them back to the flow.
So, in the hour of darkness, who could come?
A lowly YMCA director braved the Turkish guns
His name was Asa Jennings, went up high, made a plea
Got an eleven-day window for those remaining to flee.
The Greeks had just lost a war, and were afraid
Asa went to the Greek leader, who was hard to persuade
Asa threatened he'd uncode their communications
The failure to act would be displayed to the nations.
Asa also went to the Turkish leader Ataturk.
Predicted world revulsion, argument partly worked.
Ataturk ruled young men must stay, women could flee
Men must go to labor camps, far from the sea.
Asa was just the head of the YMCA
He didn't have official power, but he bluffed anyway.
He threatened, lied and cajoled
It took nerve, but fortune favors the bold.
Asa got the Greek navy, and merchant marine
Moved a 3rd of a million, from that deadly scene.
Then radio requests began, more and more:
Jennings directed more ships to the Aegean shore
A rescue of over a million lives
Children and old men, husbands and wives.
Some American naval officers also did their part
They all deserve remembrance, they all had heart.
Some would say this story is oversimplified
There were others who helped, took the refugees side
Halsey and Giannis played important roles
In saving so many desperate souls.
But picture this, one man in the right place and time
It may never happen again, in your life or mine.
Asa Jennings, leading a convoy, Old Glory flying high
refugees cheered and refugees cried.
Asa was a religious man, maybe that's what it takes
Later in Lausanne, he negotiated more breaks
The men in labor camps could go to Greece
A prisoner exchange, since now there was peace.
Asa died at 55, a short lifespan
But who of us could do as much, let's honor the man.
I left her behind
emaciated
I left her
dying
I left her
I left her
I wanted to die there with her
there in the desert
where I left my mother
there where the stench of the dead and the dying
filled the air
I left her
my other children dragging me on
the soldiers shouting
threatening..theatening
I had to go on...for the others
I left her
my little girl
who was too weak to speak
too weak to cry
my little girl
whom I smothered
knowing it would be quick
not wanting night to call
the animals to crawl
over her still living body
not wanting her to hear
the death wail of the old and frail
all around
I smothered her
and kept on walking
not hearing
not seeing
not smelling
not living
not breathing
I left her
I left my heart
I left my dreams
I left my tomorrow
and every yesterday
every memory
every hope
of a better day
I left her
and in that starless night
there in the desert
naked and bleeding
starving
shivering
I knew....
"the rest is silence."
Eileen Manassian
"The Rest is Only Silence" is from Shakespeare's Play...Hamlet. I, however, will not be silent about the Armenian Genocide. This is in memory of the 1.5 million Armenians who lost their lives in the Genocide of 1915.Though this is a fictitious write, the events depicted did happen during the Armenian Genocide in 1915 by the Ottoman Turks. One million and a half Armenians were marched into the desert in what has come to be known as the Death March. April 24 marks 101 years since that event. Not all countries have recognized the genocide. Unfortunately, America is one of them.
If you want to read an account of those days, read The Sandcastle Girls. Read of how woman were tied to stakes as the soldiers rode past on their horses and decapitated them. Read of how the orphaned children were gathered at night and put in caves and burned alive. Read of how the woman marched naked...their wounds festering, their hair matted...almost inhuman. Read of how women committed suicide rather suffer rape while others disfigured themselves to go unnoticed. History cannot deny the genocide. If justice is not served here...it will be....one day. God told Cain..."the blood of your brother Abel is crying out to me." The blood of these martyrs cries out today for recognition.
...They proclaimed that we ‘oppressed women,’
it’s the refrain of loud femenists,
forgetting that before birth control
nature gave us little choice in this.
That before we had technology,
when life meant brutal, physical work,
that there just weren’t all that many jobs
physically weaker women could work.
They forget that the woman’s franchise
arose on America’s frontier,
that we blazed the path for suffrage,
their equality started right here.
Now why would a nation do all that
if they cared so little for females?
If we sought to be patriarchal
then I dare say the strategy failed.
And yet the left keeps raging about
rights which women have been long endowed,
Why should we buy all their self-hatred
when there’s so much for which to be proud?
And worst of all these fools like to claim,
that we’ve learned nothing, it’s all the same,
which I think is a sure sign that they
have something dreadful wrong in their brains.
We look at our mistakes all the time,
we brood endless on our sins and scars,
America lacks no self-reflection,
if anything we take it too far!
We get so obsessed with all our wrongs
that we think they drown out all the right,
we selfishly think it’s all our fault,
then of the truth we sadly lose sight.
Many cultures can’t ask such questions,
ask the Turks about past genocides,
or see if Communist China will
own up to all the Uighurs that died.
You don’t see many Japanese kids
who know about the rape of Nanking,
yet every American does know
that Wounded Knee was a horrible thing.
Why should we regret a culture that
tries to learn rather than disavow?
Our growing should not bring self-hatred,
to be honest, it should make us proud.
In the end, these issues are smokescreens,
thrown up to keep good people off track,
the left wants us all to hate ourselves
because self-hating folk rarely fight back.
There’s no logic behind what they hate,
hell, it changes hour-to-hour,
what unifies all these self-hatreds
is whether it will bring them power.
That’s really what’s behind all of this,
like some grand Machiavellian scheme,
to make free people into peasants
they first must be cut down and demeaned.
In truth, they don’t like Americans,
they don’t like people who stand unbowed,
so reject their vile self-hatred,
embrace all the things that make us proud.
You see it in the old movies,
when Indians come into play,
somebody calls them,”savages,”
and it seems to fry people’s brains.
They flip out, demand censorship,
know nothing of real history,
can’t empathize with either side,
to see how that all came to be.
It’s obvious that most regret
how things happened in these past times,
and they’re not wrong to regret that,
it isn’t that hard to go find
broken treaties and agreements,
politicians playing their games,
most wish that things had gone better,
but history never can change.
Yet this does not change stubborn fact,
and looking back it is well seen
that some things the Indians did
were barbarous to the extreme.
Ritual torture was practiced
on captives by most of the tribes,
and done long before Columbus
ever had the new world in sight.
Like burning people at the stake,
or things that were much more foul,
like tying intestines to trees,
forcing souls to self-disembowel.
Making people run the gauntlet,
to be beaten by hard-swung staffs,
make it through and you might be safe,
if you didn’t…well, that was that.
Now by any modern standards
this is savage, that much is fact,
but honestly, were they alone
when you take the time to look back?
Europe had its iron maidens,
and the rack in medieval days,
and the Turks once were infamous
for leaving many captives flayed.
The Japanese in World War II
treated captives like they were trash,
Britain used to ‘blow out the guns,’
for your sake, please, don’t look up that.
Islamists rape and mutilate
in ways that would leave you disturbed,
and savage Chinese socialists
do awful things to the Uighurs.
But somehow, in this PC age,
we give the Indians a pass,
try to forget what they once did,
this really does strike me as bad.
No people should be above sin,
we see our mistakes from our scars,
to stay at peace none can forget,
must understand all that we are.
It’s important the we know this,
noble savage myths do no good,
especially since we’d forget
if there was a way that we could.
This evil lurks in all mankind,
and it should leave us all non-plussed,
Were the Indians savages? Yes…
but no more than the rest of us.
Australian and New Zealand Army Corps
Our ANZAC soldiers from the First World War.
Landed at Gallipoli on April Twenty-Five,
1915 was the year, at dawn when they arrived.
Their task to storm the beach, was thwarted by the Turks
Who laid in wait with loaded guns, and then they went berserk.
Before the ANZACS reached the shore, many had been killed
Others made it onto land, but to the bone were chilled.
Anzac Cove became their base, in dug out trenches lived
In mud and squalor, rats, and filth, but never would give in.
For months on end, fought tooth and nail, their goal to just survive
And for each other every day, prayed they would stay alive.
Eight months their campaign met a stalemate, neither side won out
Both sides of war lost many men; a truce then came about.
Evacuations sent them home, though weary, filled with pride
Because they knew each soldier there, stood proudly side by side.
And as the ANZAC legends grow, we will remember them
We bow our heads, in silent prayer, for all those brave dear men.
The Last Post then reminds us all, of what was sacrificed
So, we can live in peace because, they paid the highest price.
Christine 25/4/2026
Lest We Forget