Long Poems About Tradition
#tradition
Long poems about tradition. 300 words or more, most recently published poems first.
SweetKittyCat5
Poem Published
9th Feb 2025 7:38pm
9th Feb 2025 7:38pm
Embracing That Powerful Majestic Melanin
In the shroud of greatness, there lays the echoes of our silent truth. Therefore, whenever you utilize any of those universal patents, know that someone labored over, ideas, revisions, hopeful, they were not discriminated against just to represent their powerful intellects.
It really gives me such honor, to know that years ago, someone was thinking of making a life, a little less hectic when doing chores, jobs, by hand, then with love, patience, understanding, a formation, an equation came into view, then viola, a product of human usage was formed.
Yes,...
It really gives me such honor, to know that years ago, someone was thinking of making a life, a little less hectic when doing chores, jobs, by hand, then with love, patience, understanding, a formation, an equation came into view, then viola, a product of human usage was formed.
Yes,...
#culture
#sun
#tradition
#TruthOfLife
#water
195 reads
2 Comments
MalcolmG
Poem Published
10th Jan 2025 2:38am
10th Jan 2025 2:38am
The Dance of the King's Daughter
In the forest deep, the moonlight glows,
The princess dances, free from care,
A song of joy the wind bestows.
Knights stand still, the evening’s air,
Her laughter rises, wild and clear
In the forest deep, the moonlight glows.
The Nøkken stirs beneath the water’s lair,
His heart is moved, a longing dear.
A song of joy the wind bestows.
He calls a steed, a creature fair,
To steal her heart, to claim her near,
In the forest deep, the moonlight glows.
She rides with...
The princess dances, free from care,
A song of joy the wind bestows.
Knights stand still, the evening’s air,
Her laughter rises, wild and clear
In the forest deep, the moonlight glows.
The Nøkken stirs beneath the water’s lair,
His heart is moved, a longing dear.
A song of joy the wind bestows.
He calls a steed, a creature fair,
To steal her heart, to claim her near,
In the forest deep, the moonlight glows.
She rides with...
#culture
#mythology
#spiritual #tradition
#spiritual #tradition
87 reads
1 Comment
SweetKittyCat5
Poem Published
19th Dec 2024 9:14pm
19th Dec 2024 9:14pm
Shh.. Just Listen To The Sandstorm Of My Lineage’s Peace
I define my soft caress unto the gentle wind
Close my eyes, traveling to a land long before the creation of sin
I hear the hooves of chariots as man stand in Allah’s image
Oh, greatness of thou Pyramids, Pharaohs calling within another dimension
The Nile, I bathed the heritage of my melanin in the bosom of its depth
The Ankh, my amulet adorned proudly around my ancestor’s neck
I breathed the air, so laden of roses,...
Close my eyes, traveling to a land long before the creation of sin
I hear the hooves of chariots as man stand in Allah’s image
Oh, greatness of thou Pyramids, Pharaohs calling within another dimension
The Nile, I bathed the heritage of my melanin in the bosom of its depth
The Ankh, my amulet adorned proudly around my ancestor’s neck
I breathed the air, so laden of roses,...
#culture
#moon
#sun
#tradition
#water
252 reads
2 Comments
MalcolmG
Poem Published
21st Nov 2024 12:33pm
21st Nov 2024 12:33pm
The Tortoise and the Hare
One day a hare and a tortoise had a fight
They discussed the things both wrong and right, neither could decide the way and so they raced the very next day !
The hare was smug, as hares will be,
“A race? With you? Don’t make me pee!
You’re slow as sludge, you’ve got no flair
I'll dust you off and beat you bare!”
The tortoise grinned, a wily chap,
And snapped his fingers with a clap.
“We’ll race tomorrow, sharp at eight.
And may the best one claim their fate!”
The day arrived, the sun was bright,
The animals turned out to...
They discussed the things both wrong and right, neither could decide the way and so they raced the very next day !
The hare was smug, as hares will be,
“A race? With you? Don’t make me pee!
You’re slow as sludge, you’ve got no flair
I'll dust you off and beat you bare!”
The tortoise grinned, a wily chap,
And snapped his fingers with a clap.
“We’ll race tomorrow, sharp at eight.
And may the best one claim their fate!”
The day arrived, the sun was bright,
The animals turned out to...
#funny
#tradition
98 reads
0 Comments
MalcolmG
Poem Published
13th Nov 2024 3:29pm
13th Nov 2024 3:29pm
The Lay Of Eir
Healer of the Battle-Stricken,
Eir, the Merciful, the Quiet Hand did quicken,
Those who lay there left in sorrow,
Eir they prayed took it away in morrow..
Hail to Eir, the gentle goddess, the third named among the Asynjur bright,
Mistress of mercy, silent in her might,
Warriors invoke the call to Eir in thick of night.
Handmaid of peace, unseen by day, whose whispers soothe where blood once lay,
In halls of gods, or shadowed fjord, she brings the healing grace by her accord.
O Eir, you walk where the wounded lie,
With...
Eir, the Merciful, the Quiet Hand did quicken,
Those who lay there left in sorrow,
Eir they prayed took it away in morrow..
Hail to Eir, the gentle goddess, the third named among the Asynjur bright,
Mistress of mercy, silent in her might,
Warriors invoke the call to Eir in thick of night.
Handmaid of peace, unseen by day, whose whispers soothe where blood once lay,
In halls of gods, or shadowed fjord, she brings the healing grace by her accord.
O Eir, you walk where the wounded lie,
With...
#inspirational
#mythology
#tradition
76 reads
2 Comments
PAR
Poem Published
28th Oct 2024 12:51pm
28th Oct 2024 12:51pm
Incomplete Myth of a Goddess that Does Not Exist.
Shapska, a name bruited in the dark corners
of forgotten realms where murk
cotillion with the remnants of lost souls.
In the heart of this desolate place Shapska reigns,
a deity of crooked love and morbid allure.
Her touch, both a blessing and a curse,
weaves through the fabric of actuality,
binding the living and the dead in an eternal grasp.
In the silence of the night,
Shapska's presence is felt,
a cold surge stroke that sends
jitters down the spine.
Her eyes, like double voids,
pierce through the mask of...
of forgotten realms where murk
cotillion with the remnants of lost souls.
In the heart of this desolate place Shapska reigns,
a deity of crooked love and morbid allure.
Her touch, both a blessing and a curse,
weaves through the fabric of actuality,
binding the living and the dead in an eternal grasp.
In the silence of the night,
Shapska's presence is felt,
a cold surge stroke that sends
jitters down the spine.
Her eyes, like double voids,
pierce through the mask of...
#dark
#mythology
#religion
#spiritual
#tradition
99 reads
6 Comments
ThePalestRider
Poem Published
13th Oct 2024 4:26am
13th Oct 2024 4:26am
Attributes of Mars Incarnate
Valor
The first of virtues, bright as flame
A spirit born to carve a name
Through battles fierce and trials dire
Valor stands, a golden fire
It knows no fear, it bends no knee
For in its heart, the soul is free
A crown of light upon the brow
The warrior’s pledge, the sacred vow
Fury
A tempest wild, the god’s own breath
The storm that shakes the walls of death
Fury rages, swift and true
Its fire is blood, its lightnings flew
Yet in its heart, the truth concealed
That through destruction, strength is healed
A...
The first of virtues, bright as flame
A spirit born to carve a name
Through battles fierce and trials dire
Valor stands, a golden fire
It knows no fear, it bends no knee
For in its heart, the soul is free
A crown of light upon the brow
The warrior’s pledge, the sacred vow
Fury
A tempest wild, the god’s own breath
The storm that shakes the walls of death
Fury rages, swift and true
Its fire is blood, its lightnings flew
Yet in its heart, the truth concealed
That through destruction, strength is healed
A...
#emotions
#military
#rhyming
#tradition
#war
87 reads
0 Comments
OyateInyanNajin
Poem Published
16th Sep 2024 10:58pm
16th Sep 2024 10:58pm
WHAT IS THE SOUND (10-27-2019; expanded reflections on a classic, old, Japanese, Zen Buddhist koan; Palm Springs, CA)
what is the sound
of one hand clapping
perhaps the same
of two hands not
what is the sound
of one hand washing
perhaps the sound
of water doing
all the work
what is the remedial
echoing sound
of your grievously frustrated
innermost longing
for all the things
you most want in your life
but presently
do not have
perhaps the more ...
of one hand clapping
perhaps the same
of two hands not
what is the sound
of one hand washing
perhaps the sound
of water doing
all the work
what is the remedial
echoing sound
of your grievously frustrated
innermost longing
for all the things
you most want in your life
but presently
do not have
perhaps the more ...
#meditation
#philosophical
#SelfReflection
#spiritual
#tradition
88 reads
0 Comments
buddhakitty
Poem Published
31st May 2024 1:59am
31st May 2024 1:59am
things ain't what they used to be
after work I stopped into
the oldest spaghetti house
in town for dinner
on the wall was a black
and white picture of Dean
Martin dumping a huge
kettle of pasta onto a
counter top
(Dean Martin was born
in this town)
the place, as usual, was
packed and filled with the
aroma of tomatoes, garlic
and bread
there's nothing fancy to
this place, just several
generations making
the best pasta in town
I'm shown a table
look at the menu ...
the oldest spaghetti house
in town for dinner
on the wall was a black
and white picture of Dean
Martin dumping a huge
kettle of pasta onto a
counter top
(Dean Martin was born
in this town)
the place, as usual, was
packed and filled with the
aroma of tomatoes, garlic
and bread
there's nothing fancy to
this place, just several
generations making
the best pasta in town
I'm shown a table
look at the menu ...
#culture
#tradition
149 reads
10 Comments
poeticdelight
Hamid
Hamid
Poem Published
11th May 2024 8:22pm
11th May 2024 8:22pm
This man, ? No, Man
The road to humanity is strewn with thorns, spikes, with shards of bloody resistance,on
our chest we must creep to get to its heart, to which the roads are even paved with stark rejection,
merciless actions, irresponsible objections, and denial of the clear facts,,mindset fallacy and foremost false pretense..
And to the soul, the road is much more hard to follow, it passes over mountains
of patience, and across oceans of spontaneity, sail counter the flow of the actual
current,.......turn the hours back to original initiation..the soul is the...
our chest we must creep to get to its heart, to which the roads are even paved with stark rejection,
merciless actions, irresponsible objections, and denial of the clear facts,,mindset fallacy and foremost false pretense..
And to the soul, the road is much more hard to follow, it passes over mountains
of patience, and across oceans of spontaneity, sail counter the flow of the actual
current,.......turn the hours back to original initiation..the soul is the...
#culture
#identity
#morality #tradition
#morality #tradition
201 reads
0 Comments
cabcool
Poem Published
12th Feb 2024 3:49am
12th Feb 2024 3:49am
anansi
It's not always about being the hero, sometimes it's about
being the trickster.”—Anansi Boys
akan-jamaican passion
landscaped not by vext ration
a little axe that fells big trees
cunning in sun and rain and breeze
fearful of no assassin
stealthy without moccasin
an octopus with human
face and spider’s acumen
he...
being the trickster.”—Anansi Boys
akan-jamaican passion
landscaped not by vext ration
a little axe that fells big trees
cunning in sun and rain and breeze
fearful of no assassin
stealthy without moccasin
an octopus with human
face and spider’s acumen
he...
#Africa
#narrative
#culture #tradition
#culture #tradition
227 reads
0 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
15th Jan 2024 2:44am
15th Jan 2024 2:44am
Sweet Skin of Fog
For Brigid
A blank page lays open-handed
ready to hold this story
but all that oozes from the veil
is a memory of a memory
You appeared while I was writing
Specter from a past life
my Celtic blood lived
Conversation becomes the hardest thing to carry
under the weight of history
Our own senses become weapons
for and against yourself
over what to believe
Your sweet skin of fog
escaped from its sepulchre
becoming the chill winter morn
You asked if you needed a calling...
A blank page lays open-handed
ready to hold this story
but all that oozes from the veil
is a memory of a memory
You appeared while I was writing
Specter from a past life
my Celtic blood lived
Conversation becomes the hardest thing to carry
under the weight of history
Our own senses become weapons
for and against yourself
over what to believe
Your sweet skin of fog
escaped from its sepulchre
becoming the chill winter morn
You asked if you needed a calling...
#tradition
510 reads
11 Comments
DU Poetry : Long Poems About Tradition
