"bek" poems - Hello Poetry

THIS Mohammedan colonel from the Caucasus yells with his voice and wigwags with his arms. The interpreter translates, "I was a friend of Kornilov, he asks me what to do and I tell him." A stub of a man, this Mohammedan colonel ... a projectile shape ... a bald head hammered ... "Does he fight or do they put him in a cannon and shoot him at the enemy?" This fly-by-night, this bull-roarer who knows everybody. "I write forty books, history of Islam, history of Europe, true religion, scientific farming, I am the Roosevelt of the Caucasus, I go to America and ride horses in the moving pictures for $500,000, you get $50,000 ..." "I have 30,000 acres in the Caucasus, I have a stove factory in Petrograd the bolsheviks take from me, I am an old friend of the Czar, I am an old family friend of Clemenceau ..." These hands strangled three fellow workers for the czarist restoration, took their money, sent them in sacks to a river bottom ... and scandalized Stockholm with his gang of strangler women. Mid-sea strangler hands rise before me illustrating a wish, "I ride horses for the moving pictures in America, $500,000, and you get ten per cent ..." This rider of fugitive dawns....

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Carl Sandburg

Mohammed Bek Hadjetlache

THIS Mohammedan colonel from the Caucasus yells with his voice and wigwags with his arms. The interpreter translates, "I was a friend of Kornilov, he asks me what to do and I tell him." A stub of a man, this Mohammedan colonel ... a projectile shape ... a bald head hammered ... "Does he fight or do they put him in a cannon and shoot him at the enemy?" This fly-by-night, this bull-roarer who knows everybody. "I write forty books, history of Islam, history of Europe, true religion, scientific farming, I am the Roosevelt of the Caucasus, I go to America and ride horses in the moving pictures for $500,000, you get $50,000 ..." "I have 30,000 acres in the Caucasus, I have a stove factory in Petrograd the bolsheviks take from me, I am an old friend of the Czar, I am an old family friend of Clemenceau ..." These hands strangled three fellow workers for the czarist restoration, took their money, sent them in sacks to a river bottom ... and scandalized Stockholm with his gang of strangler women. Mid-sea strangler hands rise before me illustrating a wish, "I ride horses for the moving pictures in America, $500,000, and you get ten per cent ..." This rider of fugitive dawns....

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I hear you, little girl, You don’t need to hide. I hear you, little girl, You don’t need to perform. I hear you, little girl, You are now growing into a woman. I hear you, little girl, And cry for the things that were stolen. I cry for you little girl, You can just be. I cry for you little girl, You are brave with much to offer. I smile for you, little girl, And am so proud of who you’ve become. I heal for you, little girl, And let you rest for a while.

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Apr 19, 2024

Apr 19, 2024 at 5:30 PM UTC

bekahalle

I hear you Little Bek (LB)

I hear you, little girl, You don’t need to hide. I hear you, little girl, You don’t need to perform. I hear you, little girl, You are now growing into a woman. I hear you, little girl, And cry for the things that were stolen. I cry for you little girl, You can just be. I cry for you little girl, You are brave with much to offer. I smile for you, little girl, And am so proud of who you’ve become. I heal for you, little girl, And let you rest for a while.

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Bo op 'n berg Met my bobbejaan gedagtes wat terg Die eggo van my mania skree terug Wat soek jy hier? Ek drink uit die rivier Ek sink my oë in die rooi son Ek **** alweer Die donker wolke Die reën wat kom Ek laat my gedagtes so dans Plek tot plek Gras van Kees En mens en vlees Sny deur my Woede en naaktheid Die lag van 'n sekere malheid En die sagtheid van jou moeder ken En dan meer bring ek twee Van my na die tafel in 'n oop gesprek Met my leemtes en my onbeheerbare Soeke na wat ek herken binne my donker gate Ek dwaal verlate In riviere van die samelewing Die masjien wat liggies trap op ligte wat skyn en verdwyn In die strate van spoed en bloed Die woorde uit die bek van die dier Die ongetemde kwaad van primate Wat stoei met homself en sy produk en sy bestaan en sy wêreld en sy alles Tot hy verval en wegkwyn Verdwyn agter 'n swart gordyn bedoel vir die son en sterre Waarheid en verlossing Waar vind ek die antwoord vir alles?

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Sep 18, 2019

Sep 18, 2019 at 5:40 PM UTC

johannel

Bobbejaan Gedagtes

Bo op 'n berg Met my bobbejaan gedagtes wat terg Die eggo van my mania skree terug Wat soek jy hier? Ek drink uit die rivier Ek sink my oë in die rooi son Ek **** alweer Die donker wolke Die reën wat kom Ek laat my gedagtes so dans Plek tot plek Gras van Kees En mens en vlees Sny deur my Woede en naaktheid Die lag van 'n sekere malheid En die sagtheid van jou moeder ken En dan meer bring ek twee Van my na die tafel in 'n oop gesprek Met my leemtes en my onbeheerbare Soeke na wat ek herken binne my donker gate Ek dwaal verlate In riviere van die samelewing Die masjien wat liggies trap op ligte wat skyn en verdwyn In die strate van spoed en bloed Die woorde uit die bek van die dier Die ongetemde kwaad van primate Wat stoei met homself en sy produk en sy bestaan en sy wêreld en sy alles Tot hy verval en wegkwyn Verdwyn agter 'n swart gordyn bedoel vir die son en sterre Waarheid en verlossing Waar vind ek die antwoord vir alles?

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Skryf poësie in die sand Dis altyd soeter deur jou hand Sien *** die letters smelt as die gety inkom Dis nou te laat om weer huis toe te kom Kom ons hardloop in die nag Wilde harte is op jag Vasgedruk hier in mekaar se arms Lê ons veilig, bly en warm Ek wil jou vra, kan ek soen jou op die bek Soos ons gedoen het toe ons nog verliefdes was Om vriende aan die einde van dit als te bly Was wat ons wou, maar dit gee geen vrede nie

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Apr 17, 2023

Apr 17, 2023 at 12:35 AM UTC

Elymais

Vriende aan die Einde

Skryf poësie in die sand Dis altyd soeter deur jou hand Sien *** die letters smelt as die gety inkom Dis nou te laat om weer huis toe te kom Kom ons hardloop in die nag Wilde harte is op jag Vasgedruk hier in mekaar se arms Lê ons veilig, bly en warm Ek wil jou vra, kan ek soen jou op die bek Soos ons gedoen het toe ons nog verliefdes was Om vriende aan die einde van dit als te bly Was wat ons wou, maar dit gee geen vrede nie

12

Verdronken in geest Tongen blind gemaakt Harten, met lood ingegoten Doof voor eigen naam Als waterdruppels hebben zij zich laten absorberen door het stof van deze dunya Zij verkeren in droogte, enkel en alleen om mee te kunnen praten over de hardheid waarmee zij de ziel wensen te verpletteren Zij hebben *** huizen kostenloos weggegeven En zijn gaan leven in de bek van een slang Achteloos wachten zij op de sleutel der goedkeuring Vol wetenschap van *** mogelijke ondergang

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Dec 6, 2021

Dec 6, 2021 at 11:56 AM UTC

YousraAmatullah

Blind

Verdronken in geest Tongen blind gemaakt Harten, met lood ingegoten Doof voor eigen naam Als waterdruppels hebben zij zich laten absorberen door het stof van deze dunya Zij verkeren in droogte, enkel en alleen om mee te kunnen praten over de hardheid waarmee zij de ziel wensen te verpletteren Zij hebben *** huizen kostenloos weggegeven En zijn gaan leven in de bek van een slang Achteloos wachten zij op de sleutel der goedkeuring Vol wetenschap van *** mogelijke ondergang

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I just had a flash, An image that's come to mind... of little (me) bek (lb) splashing knee-deep in puddles, in the grey shallows of rain clouds that's me... always seeking, searching for something in the gallows; in the ebb-n-flow of life. Sure constantly o'er searching for who I'm meant to be — always peering, hoping, that they'd pick me — but then A ray of light dawns, Someone peeks behind the curtain, pulls me out from the shadows What I've been dreamin' of?! — I freeze — like a deer in sight And I try to shrink back in slight. I discombobulate self-destruct. I don't know how to act this part out — How can I move forward, be lb in the sunlight? Gently, and lovingly, accepting that I am alright...

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Jun 14, 2025

Jun 14, 2025 at 7:41 PM UTC

bekahalle

Playing in the shadows

I just had a flash, An image that's come to mind... of little (me) bek (lb) splashing knee-deep in puddles, in the grey shallows of rain clouds that's me... always seeking, searching for something in the gallows; in the ebb-n-flow of life. Sure constantly o'er searching for who I'm meant to be — always peering, hoping, that they'd pick me — but then A ray of light dawns, Someone peeks behind the curtain, pulls me out from the shadows What I've been dreamin' of?! — I freeze — like a deer in sight And I try to shrink back in slight. I discombobulate self-destruct. I don't know how to act this part out — How can I move forward, be lb in the sunlight? Gently, and lovingly, accepting that I am alright...

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