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Featured Poems: Week of Sunday, February 01, 2015
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~Born In The Slums.~
She was born in the slums
sixty three years ago
by a mother out of wedlock
delivered her all alone
In an empty dirty corridor
due to a mistake she
committed one night out of
lust, or maybe out of love,
we will never know.
New born first cry to freedom
Mothers last cry from freedom
New born first breath to live
Mothers last breath to die
Echoes of life and death
In that empty room.
A mother laying on the floor
In a pool of blood,
A new born attached loosely
To the mothers last breath
As her destiny short lived.
Nobody to welcome that new
born alive with no flowers
no balloons no father nor a
grandmother no doctor nor
a nurse no bed not even
sheets on the floor.
No decor for a new born baby
with no name alone nude no
one to clean her up, yet that
last link between mother and
daughter a cord separating
life from death.
Rescued by that stranger
living in the slums
He carried her in his arms
covering her fragile body
with his shirt walked towards
the church rang the bell
and delivered her
to the priest.
Today she wrote;
here i am today
grown up and happily
I was out walking one day I saw you and just had to say hay we started talking
everything seemed to be going well. We dated for a few months full of love for each
other we went out one night for a midnight walk. Then just out of the blue you told me
we are through I got all I need I am done with you. I just keep walking not knowing
what to say. When I stopped and looked around you was know where to be found. All I
saw was a note you wrote on the ground. It said I really did love you but it would never
be true because falling in love is something I don’t do good bye my love good bye. I
read the note four times over can this really be true she did say love was something
she did not do. It’s good that we did not last now I can put you in my past. Now my
broken heart can heal while she is out trying to steal another heart to never love. From
what I know of her she does this all the time. But of all the hearts she has broken I
wish it had not been mine. I really loved her but she took me for a fool at least she
though she did. Good bye my love good bye.
the markings are all gone
and yet they are still so evident
etched into my mind
perfectly fitted until
the water came down
the water swept away
blank faces staring back at me
am I invisible too
they walked right through me
my thoughts suspended
my footsteps halted
my breathing -
am I even alive?
A Daily Consumed Society
Man has changed and confused his principals.
What one day was culture, innocence and
shame, has degenerated into vulgarity, malice
What was a beautiful sentiment yesterday, of
warmth, comprehension and love, has converted
into coldness, intotolerance and hate.
Our children learn what they see. Throughout
their lives they encounter a pile of trash, which they
consume step by step as they are growing up.
Obedience is a victim of indocility. The shame
has died, in the darkness of the grotesque and
a good man is characterized as an imbecile...
Written by Lucilla M. Carrillo
Thank you for telling me that God
I needed it
I need to hear what I did was wrong
Thank you Lord
A lot of times I don’t realize it God
Until it comes out of me
And I quickly realize
Whether it’s a wrong thought
How I think about things
About world, my world
Everything that goes on around me
The day to day living
I quickly realize that what I thought about something
Some people, some issues, ideas
And you catch me on it
Let me know the right way
The way it should be
And I appreciate it Lord
I appreciate you
For taking the time
To be with me and hone me on things
You are incredible
Whatever that you cannot do
There is nothing that you cannot do God
The world is your oyster
And you are helping me
Hallelujah, thank you Lord
I have absolute trust in you
I know that you can do all things
That you will help me to perfection
Your incredible power
You amaze me
I don’t know what to say
Of everything I know about you
There is so much to know
So much to learn
Of your ways
Thank you Lord for the journey
You are absolutely amazing
And I am speechless
The spider weaves his web
to keep himself well fed.
Some, by beauty blinded,
say it’s a work of art and are enrapt.
Says the spider, not beauty-minded:
get real, stupid, it’s a boobytrap.
Let autumn's feet be slow to leave
As winter white comes much too soon.
Let colors fill the eyes with warmth,
Enjoy the glow of harvest moon.
The trees in all their splendor stand
Till autumn winds coax leaves to dance.
As colors swirl my heart delights.
With every fall I share romance.
I love the crispness of the air,
The crunch of leaves beneath my feet
In scarlet, gold and pumpkin hues;
Welcome relief from summer's heat.
The rain comes tapping at my pane
With crystal diamond drops that share
The beauty of this season's soul,
A beauty that's beyond compare.
Good morning, good morning,
I'm giving no scorning,
But just for the record
Let this be a warning.
I'm through with the hatred.
I'm through with the pain.
I'm through with the comments
That drive me insane,
I've had it with lying.
I've had it with greed.
I've had it with planting
An unholy seed.
Then I packaged it all,
Threw it high on the shelf,
As I looked in the mirror
And spoke to myself.
a savory swig energizes bones
one swallow electrifies tasting cones
an instant caffeine rush
causes blah cheeks to pink blush
pure Pepsi creates haunting moans.
a tingling sensation provides power
charging battery for 24 hours
but "diet" won't do
the "hard stuff's" my brew
Pepsi fragrance as potent as flowers.
one day when Life's journey is done
and "the other side's" calling for fun
no Coke, Dew, or "7"
as I step into Heaven
hoping Pepsi is their "Number One".
*For Craig's Funny Poem Contest
COMING IN SECOND
Body chilled by years of neglect,
my twin lies in a hospital bed
trying to grasp how she’s come
to this. The sum of my fears,
she’s the one person I dread
I could be, save for some kink
in our link of genetic fiber.
Struggling not to catch her death
of cold, I’ve steered clear of her
notion that our birth was not just
numerical happenstance. Yet,
at times, I find myself more
akin to that than sanity
permits, and though I fall
into the black hole of her undoing,
so far I’ve managed to climb back
out — into the asylum of my life.
Out, according to my twin,
the same way I exited the womb,
climbing over her in order to be first.
Knocking on the door, can your mate come out to play?,
or is she grounded for yet another sunny day?.
Meeting up with your mates, hanging around the park,
getting up to no good, until way after dark.
Listening to music, all night party's, having a dance,
Fitti over there giving me a glance.
he was 16, i weren't a teenager yet,
oh yes my dad would hate him, you can bet on that.
Then me mum mug's me off, 'Max get down the shop'
'all this mucking around girl, it's gonna blimmin' stop!'
Shut away in my room, put on me headphones,
bit of Shalamar? maybe some Stones?.
Sharing a bedroom with 3 boys was proper manic,
everything of mine broken, me mum in a panic.
Tower block by the Thames, 2 bedroom flat,
not enough room to swing a skinny cat.
Dad was a car crusher, worked every hour god sent,
put food on the table, no money was ever lent.
mum was too proud, to sign on the dole,
working class family, full of heart and plenty of soul.
School was fun, all me mates were there,
but instead of learning, I would just sit and stare.
Dolly daydreamer by name, scatty ann by nature,
destined to be nothing but a council girl waster.
Just a little look into my life as a child growing up on a council estate in South London x
From blade of grass to the tip of twig,
The white dust of winter fall’s.
Frenzied flakes move in lost abandonment,
Finally pitch on fence and wall’s.
On the throat the rasping of cold crisp air,
The sound of snow crunching underfoot.
As the day grows short , and night draws in,
Now the journey homeward took.
Familiar shapes come into view,
There outlines soften by the snow.
What once were roofs ,now don white overcoats,
With ice jewellery now on show.
The old mill wheel lies motionless,
So still the little stream.
Held fast by Jack Frost clutches,
In a Christmas greeting scene.
Chinks of light through windows,
Gives some comfort and delight.
Cast a beam with an incandescent glow,
On white grains as they glisten bright.
At the door the latch clicks open,
And with thud is now latched again.
Keeping winter firmly on the out side,
withIn, thoughts of summer to retain
On dancing waters I saw wet dreams
on dancing waters I was born to believe
on dancing waters I lived but could not breathe
on dancing waters I learned but did not know a single thing
on dancing waters I sold my very being
on dancing waters I thought, one day I shall swim free
on dancing waters I die as my heart bleeds
and my dancing waters so beautifully seen do not gleam
dancing waters now motionless removing all dreams
hope in dancing waters I still try to pray for them
but the dance ended with me
only to begin anew all over again
on and on
differences in income
differences as evidence
evidence of hate
found and lost
guilty without a trial
pleasure in others' misfortune
pleasure of the few
few and far between
between before and after
after so many years
all the way
all in all
all the same
same old story
same as always
always on the buttered side
out of options
out of sight
sight impaired Justice
Justice bluffing blindness
Justice served cold
cold as fire
cold middle finger
finger on the trigger
finger holes on a ball
ball and chain
ball that keeps rolling
rolling their sleeves up
rolling weeds blown by the wind
wind on the moon
wind of no change
change and action
change the subject
subject of abuse
subject to distinctions
distinctions in white and black
distinctions that stands still
Fists of rage!
A place of hell,
Don’t go there!
Take a chance:
doubt the thought,
Trust your faith,
Not for naught!
Take captive, the word of truth:
In his love,
Christ will sooth!
write with your heart/ contest
doubt your doubt before you
doubt your faith
Look at the lines begging your touch, beautifully, aerodynamically sound.
The color and aesthetics call for you to blend and wrap around.
The curves, and lines nurture you, adding layers to what you touch.
Feel the connection between body and road, a car will never do so much.
No isolation to hold you back, you’re one with the road to search.
You start with your feet planted on either side, in charge of this lofty perch.
Standing, balance it beautifully, it’s movements yours to command.
When the power goes on you’ll feel it within, together with the sound.
It’s flexible and vibrates, the likes of which will twist your thoughts around....
As you rev the motor, the power will travel your body lifting you among the clouds.
The control you have will mesmerize, as you control its very breath.
You’ll feel like a chameleon, caressing the road on which you will be blessed...
The vibrations of the road will touch you, as you ride this jewel with flair.
It feels wilder than a car, as your mind embraces it, but beware...
As it engages you heart and mind, powerful fantasies begin flowing through the air.
But pay close attention, for danger is always leering about, inattention can death
It can be primal, it can be brutal, and it can be heaven beyond compare.
But mostly it is freedom, a commodity seldom found, anywhere.
Raise your face shield. Feel the power of what you’re riding in.
The wind caresses your face with its heavy sigh, against your sensitive skin.
Stretch out your hand. Feel the wind. Allow it between your fingers to flow so rare…
And the wind will answer in return, stroking, your body, clothes, and hair.
The feel of the wind is intoxicating, as your life with it you share.
It makes you feel in control, yes, of even the sensuous air.
The wind, and the power… beckon your sense of freedom forth.
The road goes off to the horizon, your buddies at your side.
Your lady is there snug against you. Are you ready for this ride?
Dedicated to my father Roger French riding across country at 78, my brother
Dale French riding with him, and their friend Jerry Rose.