"oud" poems
Oh radiance of the sun, do not leave us and go
Illuminate the path and we will turn to guidance
Do not leave us
For darkness, no!
We'll be back
Tomorrow
Light up, Oh sun of pride and beauty, with your radiance to provide the growth of the wonderful spring flowers whichs oud and fragrants we enjoy!
And then the night comes to break
We'll look at the horozon and make
A prayer that will take
all the darkness from the night
Make this world bright
Beautiful with the suns might
~ Umi
Dec 15, 2017
Dec 15, 2017 at 2:09 PM UTC
Jy was my maaitjie,
Vol lewe, vol praatjie...
Jy en jou “ninnie”
Nou is jy nie meer hier nie
Behalwe in my hart…
Lieflike sommers dag,
Julle swem en lag,
In huis toe om te eet,
Scrambled eggs, of het jy al vergeet?
Jy gaan buitentoe, klaar geëet,
Swembad oop – ons het vergeet.
Na ‘n ruk soek Rina jou,
Hol buitentoe, sy het onthou…
En daar lê jy, die water koud,
Mietie spring in, jou pols is oud.
Boet is vinnig, bel hospitaal,
Maar Rina is koud, Rina is vaal…
Want liewe Jesus het haar baba seuntjie kom haal.
Ek pyn nogsteeds 10 jaar later,
My maaitjie, Jy – onder die water.
Familie kind, die helder liggie
Dof skyn nou jou gesiggie –
Behalwe in my hart…
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 3:35 PM UTC
ek het iemand nodig om namens my te bid, te pleit
my gebede val soos ouds op dowe ore ongehoor
ek voel oud en alleen uit gesmyt
ek het nou op gehou pm te glo ek kan toor
ek het ver geval en seer gekry
ek het op gegee op my
my kop en my lyf probeer mekaar so ver moontlik vermy
weereens het ek myself verloor
ek is te moeg om op te staan om weer te begin soek
ek is bang vir die kry, die kruis verhoor
ek voel teen gekant en vervloek
ek is niks nie anyways
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 12:02 AM UTC
.
+
+ +
•
+ ma-
king d-
istress call-
s in silent night • +
+ kindling signals in the +
dark•flames casting need-
ed light•requ- esting aid, lo-
+ oud and stark •embers red-
den mad and angry•glowi-
ng and thirst- ing for more•
thrusting wood in this dem-
on's belly•fuelling large
its crackling roar•
**imploring passing
vessels •to save all that
is dire •see me stripped
of all mettle• as i pit
my h- opes in this here**
bonfire•
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 9:13 AM UTC
ek is deurskykend, transparant, deurmekaar
opsoek na my vrede, my mensweesm my wees
ek voel so secondhand, so op gebruik, so klaar
bid vir verlossing, a trade in vir n nuwe vlees, nuwe gees, beter wees
my oe hoop op vol trane on gehuil
ek slaan lelike kolle uit in my sogenoemde persoonlikheid
maar dis alles ek, ek wat my vervuil
ek wat my eenkant hou, ek wat my uit smyt
ek wat ja se al wil als binne my nee skree
ek wat bly staan terwyl ek moes weg hardloop
ek wat myself wou uitvee
ek wat myself vir cheap thrills verkoop
maar hirdie ek is te oud om te kniel
hierdie ek word te oud om te glo
so ek staan waar ek staan en verniel
en ek bly staan sonder n tree en verloor
kyk dis ek wat hier staan, te sad om te bid
te seer om te huil, versteen deur my toedoen
daar is geen hande vat en aansit
maar ek dra dit met n smile want dis my skoen
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
In this tightly interwoven
tapestry of
silks and cottons
softness upon stems
an intricately-boned
journey
manifesto of life
I find myself in
patchwork landscapes
of ochre and
rust turning
turquoise
earthern shades
of cumin and cardamom
cloves and coriander
piquant red of paprika
alighting the senses
My fingers reach out
to sift the powder
to crush
fragrant fronds
of fresh basil and oregano
upon the blueprint of tips
allow their scent
to permeate my skin
and infuse tissue
of tongue and lips
and I seem to be
in this
bustling marketplace
my blood afire like
dried ghost pepper
searing and brightening
all flavors
fenugreek and asafoetida
to soothe the ache
of emptiness
chervil and chive
to get juices flowing
I want to slit open
vanilla pods
get at the beans
revel in their essence
wear it all over me
In this realm of spice
and paradise
I am flying,
a magic carpet of dreams
unrolling before me
like an unfurled flag
of new existence
The sounds of hagglers,
fading in raw visons
of shiny apple colors
olives piled high
textures of smooth cherry
budded broccoli
of walnut wrinkles
aroma of guava
Music takes over
I am in a cloud of
oud and lute
syncopated tabla
bells and rumbling
taut skin drum beats
Or is that long low whir
simply my heart purring
to the cadence of
freedom's call?
I only know
that in the whisk
of a second's split
I will savor the flight
and also the
fall
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 4:51 PM UTC
ek staar dae lank na n lee wit muur
binne my brand als soos vuur
in eensaamheid word ek toegevou
buite kou die druppels dou
die laaste uur voel ek so koud
voel so amper amper oud
al die dinge wat my pla
dra ek diep, dit volg my na
ek kou en herkou
my tong so amper flou
steeds ***** jy naby my
en ek kan jou net nie kry
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC
Fire burning, logs marching
A path daunting, ranting taunts
Chanting seamed Arabic hymns
Chargrilled silky toned offerings
The exquisite yurt tent warm
Enclosed in ethnic kaleidoscope
Bedouin tribal pneuma radiates
Tensed and cordially punted
Feral wild ones sociably awake
Reticent,drained in frail noises
Fainting in lapses, trailed to fail
Tidal noises permeates above all
Waved and enveloped in beats
A drummed goblet, strummed oud
Announcement of the lived life force
The tidal rhythmic music timed
All clapping and mesmerised
Drawn in dangerous curves
A continuum of introversion sorted
The ever censored extroversion summed
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 2:54 PM UTC
Kyk met horlosie swaai
kom wysheid , op een of ander manier...
Wanneer hardebaard hardehout fyn skuur
en boeta begin skuim pis-
dan is dit mos als goed en wel...
Jy's nou volwasse en verandwoordelik
vir jou kak, vir my kak en sommer die kakbak...
... en dan mag jy mos nou nie bloedkook nie
want daardie potte kom moeilik skoon
en behoed jy kort van dtraad raak
want as iemand nie aan jou been trek nie - wel ja
maar soms kom daardie klein
snotkoppie gees deur
as ander "volwassenes" vergeet
om die plooie die dag aan te plak.
Dan draai alles terug
en ek wens dat ek weer oud en koud
onder die kuwe kon raak,
want demoer in raak ek gougou
vir grootmens doeke en dommies.
Kyk ,sommige kak
moet maar net kinderkak bly,
want as my kinderhart weer vlam vat
is ek weer die duiwel se kind.
Dan draai ***** en giggles vinnig om
en wys ek *** snaaks dit kan wees
as mense val en seerkry.
Laat ek nou maar asemhaal
my das regtrek en heut...
ek is nou groot,
moet mos eintlik van beter weet.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 11:49 AM UTC
*plots of land that dance in spasms
slam dancing
bed frames with slots of wood
parallel lines on the oud
should i bother
with all this fruit
i choose to rot a while
in style of course
so much nonsense
this is truly ***********
a store bought chemical wedding
a slow decline into nothing
ship me your wisdom
and i’ll fly you to the moon
we’re departing sooner than you thought
you dream until noon
selves are made from solitude
i command you to commune with your soul
solid is a word
worlds are frozen in dreams
after the apocalypse
there is ice cream for supper
among the rubber and the forest
there is a carpet of grasses and herbs
left to dry in the dehydrator
upon the lowest setting i am making
the bed and taking my shirt off
stores demand consumption
yet in purchasing you are corrupted
assumptions of negligence
thread our hearts with your effulgence
i sense you are suffering
forever there is a differential
a disintegration of the essential
once upon a time i spoke in rhythm
made sense and could suspend judgement
now there are no more words
only thoughts
when the thoughts end nothing will be left
i’ll be suspended
like a balloon or a parachute
like a woman who seeks to become president
can you show me evidence that we are not asleep
the blossoming rose
has stolen my clothes and returned our damages
shelves of shadows on hungry tiptoes
i seek necessity in your eyebrows
streaks of lightning shape your features
i see incandescence throughout your water
you are a natural teacher
seeking meaning for the most high
blessings upon the eternal
in splendor the triumphant allegory
crowns thy falsehood victorious over demons
we dwell in the arbors of willows
as complacent shadows fall upon
the rubied lips of all of our relationships*
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 11:46 PM UTC
Redolence
by Michael R. Burch
Now darkness ponds upon the violet hills;
cicadas sing; the tall elms gently sway;
and night bends near, a deepening shade of gray;
the bass concerto of a bullfrog fills
what silence there once was; globed searchlights play.
Green hanging ferns adorn dark window sills,
all drooping fronds, awaiting morning’s flares;
mosquitoes whine; the lissome moth again
flits like a veiled oud-dancer, and endures
the fumblings of night’s enervate gray rain.
And now the pact of night is made complete;
the air is fresh and cool, washed of the grime
of the city’s ashen breath; and, for a time,
the fragrance of her clings, obscure and sweet.
Published by Poetry Magazine, Poetic Reflections, The New Formalist, Carnelian, Little Brown Poetry, Poetic Ponderings, Poem Kingdom, Net Poetry and Art Competition, The Best of the Eclectic Muse 1989-2003, Romantics Quarterly, Sonnetto Poesia, Poetry Life & Times and Trinacria
Keywords/Tags: Sonnet, night, darkness, violet, hills, rain, fresh, cleansing, fragrance, perfume, clings, clinging, obscure, sweet, concerto, dance, dancer
Mar 16, 2020
Mar 16, 2020 at 11:16 PM UTC
you found me
in a second hand store
on Lincoln Avenue
you bought me
for nine dollars and tax because
you thought I was a mandolin
you told Tryone, the clerk
who would sell me into slavery, your
wife always wanted one
you took me home to your
twelfth story apartment; I discovered
your wife was gone many years
but her photo on the living
room wall got to see me, and hear
your lament:
you wished you would have
found me seasons sooner--but my
strings were rusted even then
my last song played at a bar mitzvah
before your hair turned white, before
your wife's many colored regrets
you played me but once and didn't
like what I had to say--you tossed me
from your balcony to the street
I made the same flight your wife did,
landed in the same spot; yes, I suspect she was
more a disappointed music lover than you
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 6:52 PM UTC
Eyes, barren as the deserts,
reflecting the melancholy voice
of The Oud, wet as the oasis,
not lies though, yet not wet,
Lips red as blood, spoke of the
bleeding broken heart. Yet once,
A river flown, washing the blood
off her heart, and smothering the
sand storms. still time had a story.
It was just an oasis to her burnt,
dead dreams. The river was on
a valley, watering the red rose,
She once lovingly gave him ...
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 12:33 PM UTC
Found written on a piece of leather in Arabic, at an excavation twenty miles outside of Samarqand. Carbon dating traces it to sometime in the 1400's AD.
Through the door lay possessions;
silver teacups and sumptuous carpets.
One golden tray upturned on a table.
Through the door lay memories;
clay oven and well worn utensils.
One can still smell the cooking fire.
Through the door lay love;
clothing discarded and bedding displaced.
One single feather on a pillow.
Through the door lay life;
oud in the corner and child sized shoes.
One single moment of peace.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 2:12 AM UTC
In die hart van Afrika se suidegrond,
Styg ’n taal, sterk en bond.
Diep in son en sand,
Stemme dra oor hierdie land.
Afrikaans, die taal van hart en kin,
Gevleg met stories van waar ons was en bin.
Van boereveld tot stad se straat,
Sy ritme sterk, sy klank hard.
Woorde wat van berge hoog weerklink,
Stories oud, na die hemel gesink.
Met elke “sê,” ’n belofte gegee,
Van erfenis wat nooit sal verdwyn.
Ons taal sing van lag, van trane en vrees,
Van stryde gewen en drome geheg.
Al verander die tyd, al rol die gety,
Afrikaans bly staan, sterk en vry.
So hef jou stem, laat dit luid wees,
’n Lied van trots, ’n taal om te lees.
Want in elke frase, elke woord en rym,
Dra ons ons Afrikaans, deur elke tyd.
Nov 5, 2024
Nov 5, 2024 at 1:54 PM UTC
A magnificent flower or a beautiful tree are plants of different breed. You’ll smell their scent float in the air as you inhale to breathe.
An attractive smell is natures spell on every man or beast. I like the aroma of every spice but hate the smell of yeast.
A spray of musk or even oud may change a fellows mood. The fumes of myrrh or sandalwood will make the foolish shrewd.
Our taste may differ from one to one depending on what you wear. But when it comes to what young prefer vanilla is in the air.
But what ladies wear will cast a spell and soften shady hearts. It gives them pleasure in social events while in the crowd they spark.
In every wedding the groom will wait to see his lovely bride, she fills the air with the scent of love a smell no one can hide.
Sep 28, 2024
Sep 28, 2024 at 3:24 PM UTC
Her vanity ;
Used eyeliners
Polished golden rings
diamond watches still ticking
Her favorite oud scents still preserved in their boxes
Pocket sized pictures of us as kids framing the mirror ,
Her vanity
Doesn't know
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
The notes of the
oud and piano
meet and meld
each bringing to the other
strength and direction
they take
separate paths and
come back to
reflect against each other
in such a way
never rejoicing
but constant and melancholy
insistent vespers
to mark
the beginning of the end of our day
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 9:45 AM UTC
YOU WITH;
The hands that made the weapon. I laugh at YOU.
The heart that couldn't feign love. I laugh at YOU.
The wisdom that couldn't guide & advice.I laugh at YOU.
The hunter that couldn't provide. I laugh at YOU.
The courage of the world but never owned up. I laugh at YOU.
The ***** donor that couldn't be a father,nevertheless a man.
I laugh at YOU.
No-Kidding-I'm-Seriously-Joking.
-LOL-
-(L)ack of love
-lots (O)f love
-laugh out (L)oud
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 11:10 PM UTC
hat by av i done im ahorribke oerson i wanna **** myself ishoys ahoyhd i s/>h oud
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 3:09 AM UTC
ek glo nie,
maar vanaand bid ek,
nie vir wat of wie,
maar vir wat ooit was,
vir my onskuldige jeug,
toe ek plesier kon haal uit pakkies swiets, toe ek nie geweet het van oud word nie,
ek glo nie,
maar vanaand is ek op my knieë,
want iewers het ek my onskuld verloor,
my plesier word nie meer geput uit sondag oggend cartoons,
of met vriende speel na school,
met vrees in my hart sluit ek my oë,
en verdwaal in hierdie jongere drome,
vanaand is daar geen hallelujahs,
en geen amens
Jun 18, 2020
Jun 18, 2020 at 7:02 PM UTC
De eerste plek van mijn suikerfeestgebed!
Je was al oud, maar nooit een stuk antiek,
Je had ook nooit een mooie minaret,
Maar toch een moskee, vanbinnen klassiek.
Nu loop ik langs jou stenen, met gedachten
Die steeds proberen te herinneren
*** het nou was; wat mensen hier brachten,
Wat was het wat ik deed al die keren?
O gebouw van oudsher, nu ben je onbekend,
Een oude plaats alleen van nostalgie,
Door nieuwelingen word je niet gekend,
En nu een stukje in de poëzie.
Eerst kleine handjes, kleine gebeden,
Nu een jongeman, kijkend naar het verleden.
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 7:35 AM UTC
What can I do?
When I am so smitten for thee-
That the icicles of my past, melt in just
a stare of thine starry eyes.
There is a chasm between Me
and Thouest, which lies a fire so warm,
And bright, it does at once light
the darkest of nights and desires.
What I would give-
to feel thine enamoured heat...
Caressing the knots and scars across my body.
Your kiss is comparable to the smokiest oud and fresh tobacco-
lighting our pyres.
Alas, it is impossible to rhyme in your presence!
I stutter at the fluttering of your individual hairs
standing up to greet
the deity you love most deep.
This vessel is the human alchemy for thee:
The everlasting sycamore cooling beside the sea.
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 8:54 AM UTC
De ruiten zijn besmeurd,
de huiden zijn gekleurd.
Mensen hebben andere mensen pijn gedaan.
Het doet verdriet om dan
voor de spiegel te
beseffen dat
wij zomaar door het leven gaan
zonder daar bij stil te staan.
Mensen hebben andere mensen pijn gedaan.
*** kan dat toch? Waarom gebeurt dat nog?
Zijn wij, de mens, nu nog niet oud genoeg
om geleerd te hebben, te weten,
als we zo door doen,
zonder meer fatsoen,
het hier rap zal zijn versleten.
Mar 16, 2019
Mar 16, 2019 at 6:07 PM UTC