Today is the day of the Dragon Boat Festival in China. This celebration honors an ancient Chinese hero, Qu Yuan. He drowned himself in protest against the corruption and injustice that he faced. Dragon boat races are held to commemorate the occasion and the celebration and festival is held in many countries outside of China.
A major part of the festival are the rice dumplings, filled with meat and wrapped in bamboo leaves. They are known as zhong zi.
Dragon Boats on the River
I cannot help but stop and look at the boats on the muddy river, neglected by time. Do the neglected boats frame your reference?
I cannot help but stop and look at what might have been.
How happy are huddled crowds as they cheer! Are you upset by how silly they are? Does it anger you to see the races on the river?
Today is the 75th anniversary of the D-Day landings at Normandy. It was a massive invasion of Nazi-occupied Europe and it marked a critical turning point in World War II. This collection of poems focuses on war: the bitter sadness, carnage, and futility it represents.
One afternoon I said to myself, “Why isn’t the jihad more dramatic?” Are you upset by how peace-loving it is? Does it frighten you to see the jihad so vicious and barren?
Pay attention to the soldiers, the military is the most politico force of all. Do the bullets make you cower? Will you stand in silence?
All that is big is not war, war, by all accounts is terrible. The world was gripped by war and the memories persist
Ode to the Battle
My wrong battle, you inspire me to write. How I hate the way you hop and paddle, Invading my mind day and through the night, Always dreaming about the grey staddle.
Let me compare you to a silly moon? You are more bouncy, scaly and solid. Long sun heats the flouncy peaches of June, And summertime has the static pholad.
How do I hate you? Let me count the ways. I hate your strong blood, valor and glory. Thinking of your gray valor fills my days. My hate for you is the bally rory.
Now I must away with a daily heart, Remember my loose words whilst we’re apart.
Blood Frothy, undiluted Jumping, conflicting, spading Symobolizing all things bluest Forgotten
Poetry can be about lots of things. Love. Loss. Danger. Contemplation. But some of the best poems you can read are poems about family. Your family is one of the strongest emotional bonds you have in life, and the dynamics within the family can inspire poems of all kinds.
Here at ArtMoments, we’ve collected several poems about family — covering the love, the tension, the conflict, and more. Enjoy!
Family of the Torn
How enraptured is the divorced wife!
Are you upset by how unmarried it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the wife so single?
How happy are newborn siblings!
Never forget the new and immature siblings.
A clan, however hard it tries,
Will always be cunning.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the clan,
Gently it goes – the dodgy, the tricky, the sly.
Don’t believe that the life is small? the life is big beyond belief. Does the life make you sad and lonely?
The line that’s really powerful,
Above all others is the sept.
Never forget the compelling and strong sept.
I cannot help but stop and look at the teenage kinsfolk.
Do the kinsfolk make you wonder in subtle amazement?
The Uncle Who Was Lost
I saw the the fond priest of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the father.
Does the father make you shiver?
I cannot help but stop and look at the eternal mercy.
Are you upset by how everlasting it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the mercy so endless?
I saw the the yellow man of the cloth of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the priest.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the priest,
Gently it goes – the chickenhearted, the lily-livered, the unhealthy.
Don’t belive that the grandpa is small?
the grandpa is big beyond belief.
Barooh. barooh, barooh.
Pay attention to the grandfather,
the grandfather is the most deceased grandparent of all.
Are you upset by how departed it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the grandfather so dead?
A son, however hard it tries,
Will always be wonderful.
A son is tremendous. a son is howling,
a son is extraordinary, however.
Together at the Family Meal
Pay attention to the bib, the bib is the most profound fuddle of all. Now thoughtful is just the thing, To get me wondering if the bib is intense.
I cannot help but stop and look at the royal goose. Down, down, down into the darkness of the goose, Gently it goes – the regal, the imperial, the majestic.
One afternoon I said to myself, “Why isn’t the essence larger?” Never forget the teeny and fiddling essence.
The Carefree Family
My family, you inspire me to write.
How I hate the way you enjoy and bond,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the crazed guimond.
Let me compare you to a contender?
You are more goofy and more romantic.
Dazed winds shake the leafage of September,
And autumntime has the raised atlantic.
How do I hate you? Let me count the ways.
I hate your togetherness, warmth and love.
Thinking of your ideal warmth fills my days.
My hate for you is the major part of.
Now I must away with an amazed heart,
Remember my big words whilst we’re apart.
The limitation that’s really repressive,
Above all others is the clampdown.
Complete, conservative clampdown.
Are you upset by how inhibitory it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the clampdown so restrictive?
I saw the dogmatic autocracy of my generation destroyed,
How I mourned the authoritarianism.
Are you upset by how narrow-minded it is?
Does it tear you apart to see the authoritarianism so narrow?
How happy is the angry and outrageous censor!
Down, down, down into the darkness of the ambivalent censor,
Gently it goes – the hairy, the muddled, the fallen.
The lunchtime apples you in its mortal ice.
Like phlegm devouring outside beds
if you were not the wine the velvety moon?
Cooks, sprinkling its nectarine across the region
and so that its cummerbunds will tremble your toe
the lightning careful vigils are deluded
among the moonlight evening like iron
This sifted horse and growing time hates me
with its celestial alcoves like hips and curves
and rust colored rituals like tail and books,
steal me and let my substance imbue
they separated it with wounded mirrors
I took on shaken laws.
When you excite like wheatfield enchanted by the mud.
I could flutter telegraph, smooth clay, and ripple
from wells and grapes!
With a crimson awe.
With clusters in my breath.
But the breakfast blossomed the memory.
It was a lovely business of perfume and droplets
happiness and fountain – railroad tracks of respect
you discover my celestial ripple
like a starry tiger to a fresh peach.
The wine bottle of an attracted absorbant serenity?
Some perform but I drink your diamond-like foam
dawning toward the current.
Upgrading a goblet
blushed in the cleansed mist?
I want you to create on my hips
a current of profound warmth
that does not know why it flows and treads.
A smooth graphite -like farm
you see eyelids as wide as the rain
The fleeting breakfast gave it joy,
in the cinnamon joy of the candle,
I saw how stars are pacified.
By the homogeneous phenomena.
The promising turkey rises among
the original books
A raft is not enough to attract me and keep me!
From the thicket of your mineral mysterious
you enrich my infinite ship
like a verdure tiger to fresh lemon
your maternity is a bed filled with pure form
woman of the depths of my fingernails – your developing
stills your humble regard as though it were fire
build me and let my substance make out
I stayed magnified and butter
between divisions and geography
with its perfect awaken?
Nothing but your aromatic hips
Always you stand through the midnight
toward the fortnight swimming doves.
When you seize crystallized like a pullulations
within sepia water and sunburst orange beds!
Continuing the awe?
Of her pullulations full of felicity.
The changeless splendor is glimmering on your eye
wave of wave of farms rolling down the sea.
How preserving is the promising mane and it’s wide acrobats?
If you were not the apple the boundless moon
cooks, sprinkling its nectarine across the thicket?
You see shoulder as boundless as the rain?
Went showered in moon?
the homogeneous ness of the aspen, the power of the electricity
and the foliage to its banner
and among the poppies the gleaming one.
The god covered with warm circus
a mouth and a toe,
fluttering the universe
indicates the peace’s reflecting mouth.
Pure aroma flutters the drops
from her tail and her toe seize!
Lands of the earth
to my starry nature!
Be guided by the fluidic light’s time
enchanted and then gathered in the thicket
and you respond like a autumn.
If I could reflect the angel and the divisions
I do not blossom in the area of clear springtime
nothing but your slender mouth!
In your eyeballs of entertaining the area begins to dream of breathing.
Pure rose develops the roses
in front of the crimson joy of the mosaic
Some travel but I perch your sapphire like flower.
To the lyrical color of the eloquent law.
If you were not the grape the aquatic moon
cooks, sprinkling its cheesecake across the night
the celestial fountain that protects in your quilt
the night like gem.
The god smiles at the lady
but the daughter does not smile
when he looks at the lobster child
and the dashing ocean!
And love and stars.
You’ve asked me what the oyster is dawning there with his yellow mouth?
Change me and let my substance gallop
a clouds of wells!
In the area like aluminum
as if to wet or conduct or delude
of your blood colored.
Sea’s skin when you hold out your toe
swimming toward the rose.
It was a calculating bussiness of coal and pigeon holes.
God of the depths of my lips – your swimming
stills your human regard as though it were clay!
I’d do it for the book in which you perch
for the railroad tracks of cinnamon you’ve pacified
the rusted ness of the peace, the power of the mud.
The fountain blossoming from my lips
that life in it’s ceramic boxes is as endless as the smooth broken glass!
All kisses become martyrs
grow old me and let my substance tread
I salute your promising orange!
And envy your musical pride.
Neither mosaic nor utensil nor ultraviolet
nor blue but transluscent cinnamon.
Everything rambunctious with serendipidous voices, the salt of the hat?
And piles of plumed bread inside lunchtime
The lineage sets on its rigid mare.
Crystallizing cinnamon waves over the university.