In a country of addictions,
where we are trapped,
trying to find daylight,
and a safe way out.
Many are forgotten,
they are sent away,
when a little compassion,
could pave a new way.
Some can be saved,
by an outstretched hand,
if someone believes,
Addictions can manifest,
in many ways,
drugs, alcohol, greed,
some bad choices made.
We can't play politics,
with peoples lives,
provide them the tools,
so they can fly.
The time is now,
to turn things around,
give them our voice,
provide a safe ground.
This is my prayer,
may God soften our hearts,
give us understanding,
this is where rehab starts.
Copyright © Christy Hardy | Year Posted 2009
America, why did you stray from the old way.
A constitution put forth, the foundation of our land,
barely recognizable what was originally Jefferson's hand.
Tarnished and smudged by misinterpretation,
overindulgence and greed, to satisfy political,
judicial, and journalistic need.
Once majority rule, now bordering on ridicule,
the law of the land, ever changing, meeting demands,
of whoever takes a stand.
America, why did you stray, parents unable to discipline,
fear children undisciplined now rule, school in chaos,
students unruly, guaranteed to pass, unprepared for their future,
parents unsure, wish for the past, hope the next generation,
won't be like the last.
America, why did you stray, streets used to be a place to play,
neighbors knew one another, socialized every day,
doors left unlocked, nothing to fear, families stayed close,
helped one another, took care of mother.
Now drugs rule the day, hate and crime more common than play,
multiple locks symbolic of today, rarely talk to a stranger,
living in fear; life no longer precious, taken away,
day after day, the bloody count rises, a country in crisis,
victims pay, guilty appeal, courts give them the best deal.
Nobody protests for victims rights, put a murderer to death,
they scream all night.
America, why did you stray, hatred and bigotry alive
and well today, nationalities split, long for the old way,
when an American, was just an American, now hyphenation,
the accepted way.
America, why did you stray, once an industrial giant
you gave it away, too high a standard for industry to pay,
moved out of country, the new American way, unemployment,
poverty, homelessness rapidly increasing, ruined lives,
while billions are spent on so called allies.
America, why did you stray, what's written today,
barely address the wrongs building every day,
religion is accepted, God is not,
country divided, politically split,
presidential bashing provides journalistic wit,
hatred and bigotry, live for it.
America why did you stray, new chapters every day,
really a damn shame.
Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010
like the raven
who taps taps upon
your chamber door
do not fret my Virginia
for it's my shadow
moving across the floor
this is what I'm telling you my darlin
and nothing more
I still call your name
come to me virginia
come hear the tap tap
upon your chamber door
for only you my love
I surrender and never more
wind howls in blanket snows
here I stand so all alone
broken hearted and misconstrued
my Virginia who lies under stars and moon
just a tap tap upon your chambers door
tis I and nothing more
tales of hidas truth
blackbird sings harps cords
just like the tap tap upon your chambers door
my sweet Virgina whom I adore
for there'll be love waiting and nothing more
as I lay right next to you in this tomb
I counted only seven who have even knew
the times of this raven who
tapped tapped upon your chambers door
twas only I and will be never more
Tribute To Edgar Allen Poe
And His Young Bride Virginia
Also To His Poem The Raven
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2009
still tiered eyes open,
She walks down stairs, packs up, and gets on the bus,
She stares out the window wishing to spend the day there and not at a desk.
7 FULL HOURS of of unempathetic teachers,
they give her 6 more hours of school work to do at home.
No one cares!
The homework starts on the bus and she's lucky to have it done by 10PM.
Finely, she gets to go to bed,
But all she does is stare at the sealing with the overhanging stress of the work she didn't finish combined with the work her unrelenting teachers will give her tomorrow.
It happens each day,
It's beyond her control,
she tells teachers and friends but they spit in her face telling her they don't care.
It won't change.
Luckily, she has her head on strait,
and while she trudges through the mud she stays strong,
knowing that everything is going to work out.
So she tells herself just wait.
Copyright © Emma H | Year Posted 2014
Under the microscope we are under watched by a near by species
For some reason they think we are a life form that takes it to easy
Over the years we were abducted; that was a mistake the aliens became uneasy
Unique in several ways we are human and that they see we are strange
Fooling them we act very hostile yet our mindset needs be rearrange
Opening our minds they started to look, but our minds seems to weird and derange
Upset, the aliens take our species to try to understand
Freaks of nature we seem to gather with costumes and sounds of band
Old as time they been coming to our planet and this is what they found, like us, land
Unrelenting we humans seem to focus on a different path
Feelings we have the aliens do not understand what we have
Odd we are, we are the only species in the galaxy that really know how to have a bath
Unrealizable that we do adore the stars and lights in the sky
From all our studies we look up and see the lights that make our world, we cry
Only now we reason with the aliens we are fools in our world and we sigh
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013
The day’s hot-the wind like a convection oven
Blows hot air in our faces.
My cap and gown insulates me
Baking me like a potato wrapped in aluminum foil
I desperately fan myself and look around
My eyes search for my peers and see;
The bros that survived school with me;
The others who shouldn't have;
The girls with memories already wet in their eyes;
The people I never met and will never know;
All desperately fanning themselves
In silence and in waiting.
We all are waiting for the same thing-
What's next to come.
For some it will be their names
For another a trip to boot camp
For many including myself- college
A couple can't wait to forget the tortures of high school
And a few will already be planning our high school reunion
because it was the best years of their life.
As I bow my head, not out of sadness,
but out of sheer defeat by the sun,
I scuff up my dress shoes in the clumpy grass of the field-
that just finished another infamous drawn out lacrosse season,
I'll be thinking about the 4 plus years, 8 seasons,
worth of drilling and conditioning I did in that very field and on the surrounding track,
With a flash of ivory across my sweating face
I'll be thinking about
All the nooks and crannies
that I sanctioned for the intimate meetings of my girlfriends
The times caught and not,
All the heartbreaks and rejections,
The friends made, the best friends kept, and the many lost.
The drama, stupidity, and immaturity,
Everything that was and used to be.
And, all this time spent waiting-preparing
for this one moment
You can't help but remember it all
And with one, final sweet goodby-
Copyright © Nicholas Bello | Year Posted 2013
In the past I remember how things were so simple
When I was little my cheeks had such cute dimples
Looking back I remember how sweet I was as a child
When I think again my heart told me I was so wild
Yet, in time my simple choices was revealed as true as anyone
The reason I was the way I am today, I did things, to get done
Finishing lots of my undone ideas was so incredibly hard
So I figure my heart and choices should never hold in no bard
I never thought I would learn heart aches and pain
With such under statement I did things for no gain
I was a child who held true to what he has learned
But as we got older those kinda perspective would get me burned
When I made up my mind that people was not kind
I led myself in a confusion that I was blind
In the past I do recall that seeing is believing
So I was the one who stood their with friends leaving
Alone, I felt I did not belong, I cherish each person who knew me
I got older too see how the world works it stung me like a bee
The feeling of tingling ran through my vain
My view of the world and people who knew me was stained
Now I know they are out for their selves with no kind feelings
Life I know is just a joke because of who I hung out with seeing
Today as I look at the world it is in such shambles and astray
And rather fallow everyone I just walk away
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013
We got on the scene, in an environment tightly planned. Perhaps it is "person" who at best is a being that has presence , past, present and future. Birth and death. In this grand stage to tell each other everything that our essence was able to settle with time. Leave memories recorded in "person-stage" temporarily welcomed us.
The goals of individuals are diffuse. The mass of individuals is composed of bargains complex individual goals. Beings are grouped by similarity of purpose and they play opposite to print on the "person-peel" his divine assistance.
We are all actors, some cry, others laugh, others cry... and laugh. We spent the drama, the comedy ephemeral at lyricism of survival with and without cause, many psychodrama arise , ...
We ignore terms play opposite to the sweet illusion of achievement, misfortune, to make himself God, heroism, spotless conduct , ... Why ?
To be worthy of what? If you already have everything in the house of the Father. So many players come here to play, to circumvent laws, make war tactics... because in their heavenly abodes is far to the realism of these have only one opportunity, the certainty of a unique existence. What gain in ignoring the obvious? In their homes, or heavenly abodes you already have everything?
Life is a theater piece.... ... act in which you currently stars opposite? In that text, officers await their inclusion to participate in a plot? You are aware that play opposite? His story builds, rebuilds, or destroys itself and/or many others?
Oh heavenly! My text-narrator insinuates that your children come to you for so many inconsequential adventures? Have not you taught the gift of living eternally in your homes?
Know... know... know... to enjoy life... for those who live in the heavenly vaults may be one... but for those who are conscious is eternal.
Copyright © Max Diniz Cruzeiro | Year Posted 2014
Theatrum Mundi, derived from the Latin as: “Theater of the World,” was famously incorporated by William Shakespeare for his well-known metaphorical world-view often referred to under the rubric of “All the World’s a Stage,” as it applied to many of his famous romantic themes and works. For me, however, beyond the romance genre specifically, I take Theatrum Mundi a step further at a macro level and consider it under its more precise definition* as “the world thought of as a theatrical presentation of all aspects of human life,” while considering all of us who live in this world who are, in a sense, on a stage as our very own actors in different roles.
I believe that many modern day poets tend to follow a multi-faceted approach to compelling and captivating themes and problems that form the verbal and written mosaic of what we call human life or the human experience. This is not so different from poets of a bygone age; yet, we tend now to be more influenced by the technological age we all live in, but this should not at all detract from our poetry and how we frame and stage human events on paper with our pens.
Despite our technological prowess nowadays—courtesy of the twenty-first century—the genesis and exposition of what we poetically write and how
we write it should continue to follow the traditional formats and structural methodologies passed on to us from poets of past centuries. In this sense,
Ars Poetica (or the Art of Poetry) will always be in the same tradition; yet,
it’s worth noting that the increased proliferation in the use of “free verse” is
indeed more telling today in this modern literary age.
That’s what makes writing poetry indeed so special today in comparison to strict prose and journalistic writing. Really good poetry invites the reader to think, and at times, for he or she to use their imaginations and to venture into the inner sanctum
of allegory, assonance, imagery, metaphor, metonymy, onomatopoeia, and so on. And so, we poets tend to have a virtual unending group of themes and subjects to consider for our writes when we look at the vastness of the human experience in society today in this century.
Theatrum Mundi is very much applicable to an all-inclusive view of themes and works across all genres when one considers the veritable magnitude of the human condition in today’s world. We poets are also actors on this global stage—and we’ll always have much to observe, discuss, and write about—no doubt whatsoever.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (May 3, 2015)
*This definition is taken from The Oxford Dictionary of Foreign Words & Phrases (New York: Oxford University Press Inc., 1998), 431.
(Release Date of this poem in my new book was on February 11, 2015)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2015
All he is rackety-raggedy walking the streets.
Talking about things that are conflicting.
His mind has been captured by the wrongful deeds of people.
He has been cheated and depleted of his meaning.
No more power brings no stronger will to live…
That is the will for bigger and better things.
The arms of a vagabond are covered well even on a hot summer day in the
His educated presence states that of oppression.
His historical era is that of social injustice.
He laughs to himself.
He must be thinking on once better days.
He swigs his wine and squats to drop his bag.
He looks up to speak to the woman sitting on her porch.
He asked her could she share some coffee.
She responded and says sure Bill here you a cup.
She knows his family very well.
The arms of a vagabond are revealed.
He is slim and handsome to the life he lives.
His educated presence postures a friend.
She admires him for his intelligence.
A further walk down the streets of life brings forth new insight.
He shows his self-worth as he sits under a tree to eat.
It was a nice place to relax and think.
He knows that his life has been negated.
However, he fared just the same.
How his story defines his path now.
How his mind coexists with his conflict.
Can he undo what has caused this perplexity?
The arms of a vagabond strength are shown.
Through manual labor, he overcomes the challenges he knows.
Once he felt he would not make ends meet.
Today as he proceeds, his thoughts manifest the skeletons seen.
To all, he is rackety-raggedy walking the streets.
Talking about things that are conflicting.
His mind has been captured by the wrongful deeds of his people.
He has been cheated and depleted to his self-meaning.
No more power brings no stronger will to live…
That is the will for bigger and better things.
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2016
Ah, the bloom was on the Rose
yet, the taint of alcohol and drugs
looms nightmare like behind her baby pink cheeks.
Porcelain skin tones, raspberry rogue
nails to scratch and lift bits of dirty lucre.
She was clawing her way up,
and hopefully out, he hits her, “Slut,” he screams at her.
a sometime replacement sat beside him.
His Chicano inner-city drawl hurt her ears
and the fake diamonds studding them.
The new girl beside him
She’s due at work by nine,
grabbing a smooth wrap-top and a mock
grey skirt, she rushes from the room to the bank.
She can still see his long fingers playing in other girls cleavage.
Rose, well, Rose pays the rent. She strikes a teller’s pose
behind the formica countertop...
Long days, counting other peoples money
kindness, and sweetness sucked from her
like a ripe plum on a summers day.
She needs work, more work.
I asked her to help in the garden.
Long blonde, buxom, bending over weeds,
only six months to go to graduation
an associate degree…
Rose chuckles, “Look who I’ve been associatin’ with?”
I eye the twenty-five thou lottery ticket in my jean pocket.
“You want to move here Rose?”
“What would they do without me?”
I sigh, thinking of her alcoholic mother
off bingeing and her “boy fiend”.
The lottery windfall went for Rose’s college tuition.
The bloom is off the Rose now,
two hundred plus pounds later
strung out beside her Mom on a ratty couch,
she eyes the Diploma in it’s cheap black frame,
and rocks her baby girl
some things, never change….
*Names have been changed, and the amount given, but part
of the ending has truely come to pass already [sigh].
The rest is all true.
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2011
As an old adage,
Education is the key to suceess;
But talent and skill ,put to good use__
Can make one sucessful.
Copyright © chipepo lwele | Year Posted 2013
Of the mighty
That hangs so free
The grey brownstone
On the corner of
110 and lex
To the oak
While the young
Boy looks on
Reverence and hate
Copyright © Tonytocaa Camacho | Year Posted 2015
Ana Cecilia Callejas
Rodrigo Perez Gavilan
The Bad King
“Lexer” was a lion who was the King of the entire animal kingdom, during his reign all the animals lived in complete harmony, they were all happy and graceful, and Lexer takes care of them and protects them. One day “Lexer” and his wife had an adorable baby lion that was named “Dylan” as he grew up Lexer teached him a lot of things since he was going to be the heir of the animal kingdom. Dylan also made a lot of friends but his best friend was Jim. Dylan and Jim spend almost all the days together, as the time passed Jim started to hang out with the Rhinos, which were the bad ones of the kingdom. Jim turned into a bad lion and started to incite Dylan to make bad things and he became also a bad lion. One day lexer got very sick and a few days later he passed away so Dylan became the king. All the animals were very sad because they loved Lexer he has been so far the best ruler of the animal kingdom. Time passed and Dylan forgot all the good things his father taught him and started to become a bad lion and a bad king. Influenced by Jim and the Rhinos that were friends with Jim Dylan started to do bad things. He put animals to fight between each other just for their amusement and had some of the animals as slaves just to be his servants, he also ordered other animals to kill so he can eat and have feasts, and this caused a lot of panic in the entire animal kingdom. Dylan mother tried to make him reconsider and change, to do all the good things his father taught him for him to be a good king but Dylan just became worse. All this caused that the animals lost his confidence towards the king and started to live just with the ones of their own kind and also began to fight with all the other animals to survive. This caused that the world became a bad place and since that moment the harmony did not existed anymore and the animals had to take care on their own.
Moral of the fable: if you are a good person and you have good values don’t let anyone to influence you and change the way you are.
Copyright © Ana Callejas | Year Posted 2012
I had survived how many summers? Five?
Six? 'til, self-taught, I learned at last
of terror that lurks in situations
which those I trust (myself included)
would swear offer only perfect safety...
My ball rolled under my Grandma's house
and I, well-guarded, scuttled after to retrieve it,
mindless of the tarry soil fleeced with fluffy,
small red feathers, newly molted by matrons:
hens that clucked contentment,
set upon their hidden egg troves.
Spying their nests, I thought to rob them
and so earn a Grandma's love for a city boy
unversed in country ways. Thinking, I acted,
reaching for a nest unoccupied,
half hid behind a house block.
I closed my soft, expectant hand
upon a wriggling creature coiled among the eggs,
drew back like lightning to watch
a brightly spotted snake slide off
into the farther, deeper darkness
amid a squall of squawks.
Emerging empty handed, terrified,
it wasn't Grandma's love I earned that day.
I have always since encountered similar brilliant colored
dangers whenever I have thought to grab,
for myself or others, unclaimed treasures
in strange places, in warmer or in cooler weathers.
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2011
For a record,
A best friend covers your past from floating to the present life!
Though we also have,
Friends with benefits!
Don’t quote me wrong but,
Girlfriends and boyfriends are like florets,
They bloom, fly, fall and dry.
While your friends will be crafting more brush-woods,
Each brushwood with abound leaves.
Friends are as mightier as a pen.
A clement friend will collate all the early worms for his/her friend!
A horizon friend will always transcribe and send missives.
A barnstorming friend can be amiable,
A friend’s cuddle and trust is glory!
True friends wipe off the tears trailing through your cheek
Friendship is a heart of trust.
Friends are like trees,
Trees grow and craft other brush-woods!
Friends are synonymous to trees.
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Bryan De Poet | Year Posted 2011
The day of Pentecost, Church celebrated
Administered Holy Baptism
St. Peter declares
“Repent and be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of sins and receive the gift of the Holy Spirit”
The apostles offer baptism to anyone who believed in Fr. Christ Jesus
You will be saved
You and your household
St. Paul declared to his baptized and with all his family
Baptism is birth into the new life in Fr. Christ Jesus
In accordance with Lord God’s will
It is necessary for salvation
As the Church herself, we enter by Baptism
Baptismal grace includes forgiveness of original sin
Birth to a new life by man becomes an adopted son of the Father
A member of Fr. Christ
A temple of the Holy Spirit
Those who die for faith
All those without knowing the Church under the inspiration of grace
Seek God sincerely, strive to fulfill his will
Can be saved even if they have not been baptize
With respect to children who have died without baptism
The Church invites us to trust in God’s mercy
The angel of Lord God said
The babies are safe in heaven
Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2012
When a father of five
came home faced
with one in five children of convalescence
which he will pay more attention?
So organizations should be
when in a department or group,
one member is left out
of the production process.
Discard the individual or rescue?
Copyright © Max Diniz Cruzeiro | Year Posted 2013
I fly in the sky
I swim in the sea
I sleep in the night
And in the trees I live
The forest once was my home
That I always cherished
For me and every one
Who lived on this beautiful heaven?
Coming into the flame of fire
Together with my family
Helps me to remember and tell to all
That has caused the dead of all?
Came five days ago
Three to four men
With something in there mind known as the plan
To destroy what was known as our home
Came few men
After few days
To destroy us all together with the forest
To clear the land
They lighted the fire
They parked some big bulldozers
To clear the trees and removes the stones
After everything is burnt by the flames of the fire
Together with my family
Praying to the god as one
To forgive our sin
And tell the reason for this everything
Nothing I heard from up
But something from down
As few men said
For the development, let happen this destruction
Copyright © B S Sky | Year Posted 2013
Think I'll write something uplifting
About flowers and the birds and the bees
When I was in school way back when
Sex talk created much unease
It wasn't a subject taught in schools
When I was a young whipper snapper
Attended school very many years back
After prohibition and the flappers
Us guys used to sneak behind the barn
And flip through the pages of Playboy
When reaching that very naughty centrefold
It was difficult to contain our joy
Guys that say they didn't sneak looks
At a copy their daddy kept hidden
They're not being truthful about their reaction
They totally lost their inhibitions
We've come a long way since I was a lad
The Internet is teeming with porn
The schools don't need to teach it any longer
A permissive society has been born
Well I'm really not sure that was uplifting
Titillating is a much better word
The more we talk about sex education
The more my speech gets slurred
© Jack Ellison 2015
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015
I've done it again, I've overslept
I've failed to finish my homework
I've missed so many classes
that I can't recall which room
that I am supposed to go to
and maybe I'm on the wrong floor
and oh god the wrong building?
and besides they all look the same
and besides the last time I found it
all the seats were taken...
The semester is almost over
My attendance is still required
or there will be some sort of penalty...
(Tuition is so expensive, son
Why waste it, why throw it away?
Now your brothers and sister...)
The hall is empty and endless now
I'm running and sweating now
The whole class is waiting now
The teacher is waiting now...
I've already flunked his course
but still have to take his exam...
The bell screams and the doors slam shut
Once again they have started without me
Once again I'll be marked absent
when they call the roll...
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2013
Childhood is the best part of everyone’s life! You might think so, but there are people who’ve never experienced the beauty of this utopia. Sometimes parents often unknowingly destroy or neglect the childhood of their kids, without them even realizing it. This may have terrible consequences later in the life of these kids.
A poem on a terrorist's lost childhood..
As a kid, he cried for a pack of crayons.
But all he got was, some fat books on Maths, Science and Freons.
He grew up amidst the stench of his suffocating passion.
Tinting his mind in a rational and scientific fashion.
He went on, emphatically learning new things.
Just like the bird, flying without his own wings.
He strived and thrived to be the best.
Strangling his dreams, he laid them to rest.
Over the years, his soul was infiltrated with hatred and anger.
Piercing his heart, like an acute dagger.
And, today he creates weapons of mass destruction.
Using all his knowledge, wrecking innocent lives has become his addiction.
Who knows? It might not be his fault.
As he’s a man with his wounds on salt.
Brainwashed, seeking revenge of his mercilessly destroyed childhood.
His rational cognizance failed to discern between the bad and the good.
Copyright © Neeraj Chavan | Year Posted 2015
Faith, is the antithesis of proof...
Copyright © Warner Baxter | Year Posted 2014
Surrounded by creative sharks at
play; keeping my moves at bay.
I hope I'm making myself clear,
or steering some away. Never
expect more, than you give. Greed
is pure void, never filled! Taught
many years before. Splitting hairs
with someone, it's all in good fun.
The chosen few, will surly agree.
03/10/14 written by, Larry Berdoo
Copyright © Larry Berdoo | Year Posted 2014
Big bully,don't ask my name--
I can't allow you to know my name--
You would chant to me on the playground,
Make a silly song __make funny of my name:
That my parents thought was a beautiful and significant name.
You have harassed many boys and girls at school,
Just because they are too short,too tall or too heavy,
or because they are too shy,or too neat,
or their clothes not exactly right size,or their shoes not the right
brand, or their packed lunch not palatable__
Many kids at school are concerned about your attitude,
You bully them in the pathway or in classrooms.
And many fear to talk about you,
I don't want to lash out and fight you:
but I don't like your teasing words and tactics.
I will stay with my best friend or group to ward you off.
I have decided to ignore you big bully__ walking away;
Ready to use my body language to ward you off .
It is great to be confident___
When you want to harm me, I will seek help from
my teacher,parents, and adults__
To offer advice,support and immediate intervention.
*In remembrance of school-going days.
Copyright © chipepo lwele | Year Posted 2012
Why this boat?
Could it be boat of destitution?
Conveying Epidemics, Hunger, Rags,
Malnutrition and Illiteracy.
Descend from me!
Banish from my world!
You cursed word!
You that called education a"Privilege"!
Patrimony of ghetto!
W.H.O called you "Lion of Africa",
U N called you "Agenda ".
Predicament to black,
Livelihood to white.
Harking to conviction,
Capsize and raise no more.
For "Black Rose" to smile again
On the land of plenty.
Copyright © Kolawole Owoigbe | Year Posted 2010
My math teacher was such a colorful character
she was the queen of Mathematics at our school
she loved linear regressions and probability
and permutations and combinations too!
My math teacher loved to
entertain us with her Listerine coated smile
and her heart as pure
as the golden sand on Small Hope Bay
she loved making calculus and matrices fun for us
and cherished March 14th like her second Christmas
while grading our exams was her New Year's Day!
My math teacher
was the mathematician we all loved
she painted each of us as
sons, daughters and even siblings of her own
while her favorite words to us were: "y'all stop bein' slow!"
in her voice of that of a sixteen year old !
My math teacher disliked when
we made her stress level
race as high as a thermometer
and her nerves danced the heel and toe polka
because it made her spoke in colorful tongues
I couldn’t describe !
or just simply ignored us
as if she was wearing
a pair of Beats By Dre
across her eardrums!
To us Mathematics is often hard to comprehend
this argument maybe true
but my math teacher always made this subject
looked like swimming with the dolphins!
My math teacher
was the mathematician we all loved
she loved when we called her the greatest
mathematician to ever grace the earth
since the great Pythagoras !
because it made her blush like
the pink grains of sand
on a beach in Harbour Island !
Written by: Mia Pratt, 2014
Copyright © Mia Pratt | Year Posted 2016
One day, one of our daily papers carried a story about a teenage girl who
dumped a baby;after carrying the baby for nine months in her womb.
And nowadays,it is common for teenagers to throw their babies in pit latrines,
drainage,and rubbish sites;
Why acting in such a manner when barren women are cying for babies and
orphanages are around us?
Copyright © chipepo lwele | Year Posted 2013
Back in the days, began schooling at a tender age
Gender wasn't the issue, we were happy sharing the moments
I mean Sunday school were the best days for me
Its' evident that some began their careers way back
U gotta be thankful for your teacher, who noticed your dream early
Can't lie, was crying and holding on ma mama
Didn't want to be left with strangers I didn't know
Until I came to understand they meant no harm, I opened up
Holding a pen and paper become my dream come true
Been taught how to read and write, fulfilled my ambitions
The truth lays in the steps I have left
It's a struggle to get done with your dreams
I ain't through yet, Who taught you?
That's a question that can't be answered directly
The journey has been long, with shortcomings, I haven't reached the end
I have just began and I ain't going to stop, till the road ends
Copyright © ENOCK SANG | Year Posted 2015
Today we need a miracle of revolutionized culture to survive with our heritage's past for our future.
Many of us don't even know our traditional language no more.
So much has already been taking from us that it seems most of our culture is forever lost.
There is a big difference between white man's law and our Native American laws,
Many of us have been here in America since time began here in the America's and the only waste we leave behind is the bodies of our people burried like our culture is being buried in the prarie.
The white man has raped and took our culture and way of life from us.
So what kind of legacy will we leave behind as a Native people? We must reject the white mans way, we must take no part of it, but how can we when we are now a conquered people among a conquering people which a majority remain white.
We as a Native people only want to survive so that we can remain who we really are, and its our language and traditions who make us who we are and it is dying at a alarming rate.
Our way of life is today is almost gone and how can we ask to pass on our culture when too much of it is gone and soon our people's legacy will be just that, a legacy.
We are the lost generation of young Native's unseen to the mainstream American eyes.
So with that said we as a people must cling onto what we have left because if we don't do it now we will never get back to who we once were as a people.
There used to be millions of buffalo that feed, clothed and helped us survive as a people now the buffalo roam no morem and all that roams the prairie is a broken dream of many spirits longing for the living to bring back the buffalo.
Many of our elders and great one's died are will killed too quicly for their knowledge to be passed down the wisdom of our great people.
Now we have to pick up the many broken piece's where our ancient ancestors left off.
Now for the one's who do want to keep our culture alivewe have to teach ourselves what we dont already know with experience.
Now that the cultural leaders are dead and gone we have to search deep within ourselves to know who we really are as a ancient Native people.
We must teach our children now for great grandma's and grandpa's are in our children, many or almost all just don't lnow it yet.
My life and the life of my peers belong not to certain indivduals but the life we live and breathe belong to the people no matter our Native blood degree, it's not that our children belongs to us rather it's us that belong to the children.
Copyright © Travis Lone Hill | Year Posted 2012