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Death Women Poems | Death Poems About Women

These Death Women poems are examples of Death poems about Women. These are the best examples of Death Women poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

STILL WINTER

Dead Winter Stray~ By: Poet Destroyer

Nearby paces, Combatants lost under the cemetery walls,
“Blessed Men and Heavenly Remedy Women of Ages,”
Feelings of dance at the beginning of nightfall,
Scenery of fire, sadness passing this history page,
In that distant curve, somewhere nears the sundown stream.
Far away from the vision of mortal eyes,
A child plays as beautiful and pale like the sunrise.
She plays on the coast this beautiful but pale, sun raised child.
Pursuing nature, in a hushed angelic lucidity,
“In hushed angelic lucidity!”
Fragile fastened, to those adequate bones.
Profound deepness beneath the snow winder dust,
Below the memoirs of her floating vessel,
Reminisces of water drowning down rivers and streams,
A shattered female kneels in salvation.
An anvil so heavy it troubles the mind.
Lost in profoundness, in what might have been.
What was, for a moment in this period?
The grimness of her weak vessel dwells.
A lifeless winter strays around. 
An album so old and dusty,
A christening gown not ever embraced.
Infinite, the woman and pale child of sunrise,
Soften footfalls beating out the torments.
Countless nights seeing the day of unspoken headstones,
Feelings of dance will never rest this heartache.
Eternity, in a dance of unconditional need,
Their hearts unite as one...
A closing of mother and child…     
~BY: PD~

Dead Winter~ By: Catie Lindsey 

There walks Warriors in that graveyard,
Holy Men and Medicine Women of ages;
at night you can see their Spirits dance,
setting fire to history's pages.
In that far corner, up by the stream,
far from the eyes of publicity,
she plays on the shore, beautiful Raylene,
catching poly-wogs, in silent lucidity.
In silent lucidity.
Brittle now, those fine bones,
deep beneath the snow drifts of winter,
beneath the memories of her body afloat
down rivers and streams of Remember.
A broken woman kneels in prayer,
a heavy weight on a burdened mind,
somewhere deep in what could have been,
what was, for a moment in time.
The grayness of her frail body lingers,
in a dead winter of the unborn,
on page forty-nine in the family album,
in a baptismal gown never worn.
Together they dance,the woman and the child,
their soft footfalls pounding out the sorrows
of many days at a worn out headstone,
many dances to come, many tomorrows.
Together they dance, The Woman's Dance,
their hearts as one...
the woman and the child.
~By: Catie Lindsey~

(for Catie's: Re-write contest..) 


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Abbey


Amid the woods and snow he saw her form,
predestined oracle he sensed this was,
her recollected glance, was lone in storm,
outside the chapel she became first cause .

Lit were the chandelier's ocher chandelles,
his heartbeat thrummed an airy rhythmic spell,
the forest snowstorm reeled - shaped ghostly belles
invited him beneath the ringing knell.

Their Angel's bliss, his soul received in flames,
adept and kind the whisper of her voice,
"- Forgiveness calms those who indulge in blames;
devoutness is the prelude of free choice."

Outside he stepped beneath the Abbey's knell:
His voice dispersed above the snow and mass,
in cold embraced the iron wrought of bells,
- as waxen light passed through the chapel's glass.

His mind and woods enjoined in forceful prayer,
spells sacrosanct and numinous instilled,
in abstinence the sanctified abbe,
abandoned Convent life to years and thrills.

Escaped then he, to meet the woods in dark,
amidst their sovereign heights he was her groom,
continuum of time and space to arc,
his childhood's wraith became in mists and tomb.

© G. V. 01-04-2012 All rights reserved
(Iambic Pentameter)


Details | Epic | |

raised from the dead

three women with points on their licenses to the tomb of Jesus they ventured
as they had a love for our Savior that was totally uncensored
they were told that the Roman soldiers over His tomb were standing guard
but they had a need to consecrate His body that compelled them to do their part
it was risky and unreasonable in the minds of most
but man's reasoning has no value when it comes to our Heavenly Host
to do the impossible that is what they desired
and with the power of the Holy Spirit they were then inspired
to walk by faith and not by sight guided by God's spiritual light

and when those women got to the tomb they then discovered 
that the sepulcher of Jesus was now uncovered
no Roman soldiers were in sight 
just an Angel of God wearing raiment snow white
"fear not" the Angel said, for the prophecy has been fulfilled
the Messiah  Jesus has risen from the dead for it is God's will
the mighty stone had been rolled away
it was a bold godly display

do you know that God will roll away any stone that impedes your life?
as He rolled away the stone at the tomb of His beloved Son Jesus the Christ
to be raised from the death of corruption and sin
restored, renewed, revived and born again
raised up from societal barriers of destruction
now a new creation in Christ's gospel production
the Lord desires that we live abundantly
and to walk with the power of His authority
so never forget the sacrifice and the blood that was shed
when Jesus the Christ by the hand of God was raised from the dead


Details | I do not know? | |

The Women



The Women



(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)



Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter, a child, a few years old,

they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell.



They wanted information, you gave them nothing,
these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter,

and white was right in South Africa back then,

but, you did not cower, you stood resolute,

you, my mother, faced them down, their power,
their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats.



You, my mother, would not, could not break,

You stood firm, you stood tall.

You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.



You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,

the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation
from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad,

my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow
up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place,

by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,
whose skin just happened to be lighter.



You told me many things, as I grew older,
of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.

You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,

you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,
of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,

you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.



Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,
a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,

all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.



I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,

the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land,
who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand.



I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed,
your body interred in your beloved South African soil,

you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,

of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.


I salute you!



(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)






Details | Ballad | |

The Singer's Cloak

The singer sang from beyond the grave,*
Or in his grave, to be true.
His voice reached up to the architrave
And vibrated in every pew.

The vicar called on the choir to sing
As loud as loud they could.
But the voice had an even louder ring
Sending quivers down the rood.

Oh Lord, they sang, oh mighty God,
Gloria in excelsis deo.
But the singer sang of life’s hard rod
And of Hell's undying blow.

The women looked up the pillars tall,
While big-eyed children cried.
The singer had them in his thrall,
But was not to be descried.

The vicar read his sermon out,
As if proclaiming from the mount.
The singer responded with a voice so stout,
He sang of fear’s rich fount.

The congregation lost relation
To the good man’s godly word.
They stood in helpless trepidation,
Their souls so far disturbed. 

The church’s doors swung open wide,
To a cascade of chattering leaves;
The screams and panic and terror inside
Shook the church to its very eaves.

And then, oh then, oh horror pure,
The spectre appeared at the door.
His bloodied hair, his sombre allure,
Chilled the living to the core.

The vicar clutched up bible and ran
Through a hidden door to the side,
The singer opened his cloak like a fan
And wrapped all the children inside.

The women bemoaned this cruellest loss,
They wailed to the crucified Christ.
But bound and weak and nailed as he was,
There was nothing he could do.

* This Poem should be read in conjunction with 'The Pauper's Grave'


Details | Shape | |

Lost

into darkness 
this life descends 
mired at death's door 
as its light steadily dims
these aweary bleached bones 
doth mourn once youthful days
when innocence pure o'er this soul
in blissful ignorance happily reigned
before time's ephemeral passing breath   
enshrouded this woebegone heart's moody
mangled reprobate impenitent suasible flesh
with ne'er a humble outcry nor ire forbearance
this lingering bemired e'er obstinate human clay 
whence forth engenders hope's demise since afore 
existence's perfect birth beyond its motherly womb   
till sufferings' midlife malefic spirits furtively abort 
its righteous life-giving journey heavenward bound 
an inward promise greedily denied by passion's fire
mere dust in blackness of darkness wholly effaced
from paradise lost to limbo's nonexistent embrace
this inflexible cursed soul henceforth forgotten
a preemie spirit resident to fields of silence

© Eugene Harvey


Details | Ballad | |

Antigone

I am the face of misery
My life, a dissonance of autumn and spring,
The years are written in the same
Lugubrious, nostalgic grey
How can it be the author to blame?
I cannot scream this all away…
Burn nor Bleed this all away…
To Death I am Ordained

Lacuna ever growing
With Velvet sheets of life flowing
Aeons apart of my "royalty"
Under the mask the cannot see...
Can you dispel this tragedy:
Antigone - Epiphany failing

If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,
Antigone

No words of hope
No words of hate
Do I have Lenore to send to me:
The sordid child of Thebes
Caught In the longest nightmare
life - the slowest way to die

I know this is my life 
But I'm not under control
under the mask the will see
Just Another Human

If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,
Antigone

If it must be…
Then just kill me,
(Antigone) sing me out of reality;
I wear this dissonant crown of shame
(Antigone) Of a kingdom's disdain
I hate to be this way... normalcy's bane
(Antigone) Here comes the edict, to blame
The sordid child of Thebes,
This is me,
Antigone

Can you dispel my life; this tragedy?
Can you control the storm in my mind?
I'm asking you: can you rid me
Of The Curse of Antigone?


Details | Lyric | |

The Things You Wish You Could Erase

Sitting on the edge of the bridge
Holding unto that bottle of beer
The same beer that he drank 
The night he killed those people
Flashback in his brain
Gripping unto the bottle
nearly breaking it
hes sitting behind the wheel
Picks up the beer bottle 
Takes another sip
He sees the car
But gently closes his eyes
The women slams on her breaks
Her son in the back seat
The cars crash
Her car rolls down the hill
His car slamming into 
The side of bridge gates
The gates holding him steady
He gently steps out of his car
Seeing the smoke 
A gray car laying in the river
Below the bridge hes standing on
He runs down there 
Running through the water
the top of the car barely noticable
He helps the young women out
Not knowing about the little boy
In the back seat
She yells
"my son... my son"
She points to the vehicle
She takes her last breathe
Lays there helplessly
The man drags the little boy out of the car
A scratch on his forhead
Not breathing at all
The man cries
Trying to wake the kid up
Knowing they are both up in heaven
He vanishes
Several years later
He sits on the bridge
Holding the bottle
Has a child of his own
A wife of his own
Waiting at home for him
His son an hour before 
Wanted to walk to the bridge
With him
But the man just said no
The young boy just stayed home
His father never came back
They found him 
Floating in the same river
The women and her son were in

~Dedicated to Tommy~


Details | Free verse | |

Somber Tears

As the sun sets
and the twilight comes out,
as the birds and squrriels are no where in sight.

As the whores and pimps sit on street corners,
waiting for street lights to turn from green to red.
As cadillacs stop and roll their windows down.

I can her the faint cry deep in the darkness,
of dirty gutters and dark, dead end alleyways,
I hear the faint tears fall and hit concrete pavement.

I feel the faint cries of whores,
I hear the sound of backhand hitting face
and brused tissue and broken noses are everywhere.

And the somber tears fall onto pillow cases,
and white motel bedsheets run red with blood
and cheap Italian wine.

And you can her the poet over the radio,
reading his own work for the one millionth time
and you can hear his soul slowly wanting to die.

He drowns himself in smoke and alcohol
the whore takes her pay, or spends a night in a jail cell,
the pimp nowhere to be found,
with a shiny blade stuck deep in his gut.

And the somber tears fall gently on the concrete pavement,
the floors of a jail cell,
tears on the pillow case and tears on a lonesome stage.

Tears never present, but are seen by many,
pain aches and pain takes away,
and I pour one more drink for the whore.

She takes me away,
and I caught her salty, somber tear,
and she crawled into my warm embrace.

I was the one who stuck the blade in the gut of that pimp,
who broke her nose and made her bleed,
with a cowardess and souless backhand.

I walk into the moonlight,
hearing the somber tears all around me,
crash violently to the concrete pavement.

The Earth rumbles and erupts with these tears,
that are shead for fellow Men, and Women and Children,
but we all look at ourselves and smile.

Happy we don't pay rent,
happy we don't have cancer,
happy we aren't six feet under;

But we still all cry,
Why?
Somber tears all fall in one big wave

crashing violently on the concrete pavement.
Now the red light turns green,
and the traffic moves along,
the whore is still at her corner,
the pimp still with the blade in his gut.


Details | Haiku | |

What People Were and What People Are

People were
Many things.
Strange or not

People were
Different and
Odd and fun.

People were
Monsters but…
That’s not all

People were
And still are
Strange and odd.

People are
People. For
life is life. 

Yet not.
Not is lies.
Truth seeps from

Every mouth
Lies, lies, lies
Move, move, move

But somehow
Lies prevail.
Lies are life.

Lies are death.
Lies are homes.
Lies are pain.

Lies are truth.
Yet somehow.
Truth prevails.

Truth is life.
Truth is death.
Truth is home.

Truth is pain.
Truth is lie.
Truth is that.

Lies will die.
Lies will cease.
Nevermore.

Truth will live.
Truth will be.
Forever.


Details | Rhyme | |

Beyond the Frontier

Where am I? Why is it dark?
This isn’t what I had in mind when I left the park…
Why isn’t the wind whispering…the songbirds singing?
All I remember is a telephone ringing…
A scream and a crash and a pain in my side…
Is this what happens after one’s died?
I don’t feel like myself, I feel wild and free,
Yet I’m cold and alone, 'stead of filled with glee.

My whole life I’ve studied, and pondered, and prayed,
Trying to fathom what would happen this day
But now that it’s here, I’m beginning to fear
Maybe the afterlife’s not what it appears…
It’s certainly not what I’ve been told by my preacher
Or my parents or brother or best friend or teacher…
Is it a bad thing, or is it good?
Maybe it’s just not quite understood...

While I was on Earth, I just couldn’t wait
To meet good St. Peter at the heavenly gate
And ask him a question or query or two
“What was my purpose?” “What good did I do?”
“What’s it all for?” “How does it all flow?”
“Can I have one more body, one more try, one more go?”
But where is the angel? Where is the gate? And
If this is Hell, then where is Ol’ Satan?
Am I a lost soul? Am I forgotten?
Am I to be left here until I am rotten?

Lo and behold! what, now, can this be?
Is this a wonderful spiritual epiphany?
Is this the magical feeling all souls receive
When they leave Earth? Oh! was I that naïve?
How could I have not seen the realism?
Why was I consumed in man-made idealism?
This is more wondrous than all I was taught
Oh, all the times I argued and fought
With others, ‘bout how their views were asinine
Now I see, theirs were just as wrong as mine!
Little I thought was actually correct!
How, why, did I let others petty beliefs infect
My untouched, my pure, my virgin mind?
I regret all the hours I self-tortured to find
That compared to what I see now, I was empty and blind…

Wait - - What is this that I see?
What is this gateway that is revealed unto me?

Now a door is opened to my immortal soul
I am expected now to enter my life’s final goal…
I am scared, intimidated, but still I am glad…
For the truth I have just seen is anything but bad.
This is the end of my journey, I’ve nothing to fear,
For now I am going Beyond the Frontier.


Details | I do not know? | |

For Men Everywhere One Billion Rising

1 Billion Rising.

For Men Everywhere.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

Stop!

Stop the abuse!

Of grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Listen!

Listen to the voices!

Of grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Think!

Think of how you treat,

grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Act!

Act now to change yourself!

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

stops when you stop,

the violence,
the abuse,
the rape.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

is perpetrated by,

grand-fathers,
colleagues,
boyfriends,
husbands,
nephews,
brothers,
partners,
fathers,
uncles,

men,

all men.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

stops when us men stop,

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

today, now.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!


Details | Rhyme | |

Midnight Massacre

Darkness swells the from depth of the sea,
waves crashes against waves,
the mad sea roars and vomits vengeance, 
it belches and yawns at the sound of her name.

They have been drifting for many days,
entranced with panic, fear and delusion,
 gripping tightly to the edge of their boat,
drifting deeper into her venomous  throat.

I can hear echoes and screams,
I can sense desperation from the extreme,
Oozing bumps on the surface of my skins,
I just don’t know where to begin.

The horrors of the sea hisses and lashes,
It flings and tosses their boat in a ball.
chopping and folding up blood red water,
preparing for the horrific slaughter.

She emerges from the depth of the sea,
hoping for a grand jubilee,
flattering  her six meter coat,
straining under five thousand pounds,
she swims violently towards their boat.

She grinds everything in her path,
and tries to tear their boat apart,
raw meat grinds with flesh,
flesh pounding with flesh,
flesh devouring flesh.

Six women and four men ,
bring the jubilee to an end,
armed with guns, rockets, and knives,
they were determined to survive,

They drifted closer to the shore,
but she bust the door of their little boat
they ripped the side of her six meter coat,
but she managed to stay afloat.

They aim directly at her throat 
it misses, and burns the side of her coat.
She growls and barks, rises and spins,
and prances at their boats with a sudden fling.

Barrage of bullets puncture her gut,
she howls and groans but didn’t give up,
she overturns  their  speeding boat,
and catches them under her strouth.

She rips apart their arms and legs,
and have supper with their bleeding heads, 
she grinds them in her toothless jaws,
no one could escape her formidable  claws.

She dances and hisses, 
Splashes and dashes,
Smashing the boat with her sinister tail,
and quenches her thirst with their blood stained veil.

Loretta escaped that grisly moment,
and grips tightly to the overturned boat,
with the knife aiming directly at her throat.
death faces death, fear faces fear,
the midnight massacre begins.

Slashing and piercing,
stabbing and gorging,
Loretta’s fear dissolves in thin air.
her bullet rigged body and rocket torn Jaws,
caused  Loretta to gazed in awe,
one single knife, and one single throw,
Loretta empties her swollen gut with a single blow.

They came out one by one,
married men and single women, 
severed arms and broken legs,
and corpses of missing children.

Pretty women and wealthy men,
leak out of her bleeding gut,
maggot oozing out of their flesh. 
What really happens before their death?

Skeleton fingers wrapped around barbie dolls,
some still holding their little beach balls,
carrying their little  buckets and spade,
they must have being playing before they strayed.

Man against beast, beast against man
the midnight massacre was where it all began.


                                                                                       ©2013 Christine Phillips


Details | I do not know? | |

The Obscure Love

The cash and carry of love
Which summer doth requisite
When will thou birth me a dove?
Soon autumn will bid for hunt-		5
To gratify winter’s drudge
Oh! Far is the sight of spring
None can pacify better
For season flies without wings
And quick does it charm scald beauty
 Of whose time shall be pleaded?	10
As vaguely summer doth leave
Crow beckons with a caw
The womb that is long barren
Whom for eon is not loved
And in earth’s hate it joy is lost		15
Quick drains life off it victim


Details | Rhyme | |

White Saree

You my friend In White  Saree  and grim faced
Your dresses were, as always, colorful and laced
What happened to that enchanting, infectious smile?
Where is that enthusiasm, your charming style

Death is a reality and everyone must die
The living ones mustn't be left for agony to fry
Humans are not candles that burns through the night
Tell me why widowers are not made to wear White

Why should only women this branding endure
They are also human with a heart and soul for sure
Change this White Saree and in the garbage throw
This is how a system that is archaic  must go

Come to me, my love, let me teach you what is life
Your being mustn’t be embodiment of agony and strife
Give up this white coffin and wear red, scarlet and pink
The fountain of life is gushing out; it is for you to drink

Let us, like our olden days, in horizon of thoughts fly 
Life’s rainbows await you; so do colors of butterfly
Shed your gloom and let the roses of your cheeks blossom
Walk along the valley of life hand in hand with a handsome 

1. Widowed women wear only white in Hindu Religion
2. Saree is the dress of Indian and Bangladeshi women


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Feast of Feces

When the coven of ill-willed women seek revenge,
from anyone they deem too big for their britches,
They go to the book of sorcery for witches,
In the book, they seek deliverance from women
who shine brighter than morning stars,
looking for panaceas and disasters,
Brews that could curl their hair and tarnish their shoes,
Nothing short of voodoo,
They'd even stoop to mixing up batches of goulash,
sprinkled with feces, and disguised by hash,
Their boundaries are limitless when they want to anhiliate,
They would go as far as tempting fate,
A feast of feces becomes no trouble at all,
when they want to cast anyone away,
so they may become the Belles of the Balls.......


Details | Free verse | |

When a Man cries Himself to Sleep

When a man cries himself to sleep,
it is a sad sight to see,
tears roll off his cheek
and onto his bed sheets and pillow case.
When you hear his somber cries,
you can feel his pain
when he wimpers like a child who treds in fear.
No one knows what they do to a man
when they play with his emotions,
lead him on,
take advantage of him.
They don't know what they do to an innocent man
looking for love.
They break his heart that is full of love,
they stab him in the back
when he needs them at his most vulnerable moment
they laugh at him, and tease him,
Do they know what they do to a man?
They slowly kill a man, who just wants a simple kiss on the lips,
they kill a dreamer, a good man, with a big heart.
They drive a man to his bed,
with tears running down his face
and force him to dream of nightmares.
When a man cries himself to sleep, 
it is that saddest thing to see.
Goodnight and sweet dreams...


Details | Rhyme | |

Bahrain in Blood

Another example of Western hypocrisy,
Is Bahrain where they claim "Democracy",

A self-designed "Democracy" of dictatorship,
Which actually started from a pirate-ship,

In history you will find that some pirates,
Who were the robbery and theft laureates,

Through cheating, fraud and deception,
Killings, aggression and corruption,

They came into power to abuse everyone,
Before was with sword and now is with the gun,

They thought that their kingdom will last,
Because of their savagery, which is vast,

Did not imagine that they would be faced,
With people's protests and be disgraced,

And that the whole world will come to know,
About the truth of Bahraini Kingdom's show,

This show is about the killings and rapes,
Bodies with signs of torture and scrapes,

Children, men or women have no difference,
In receiving this torture for-instance,

They raid the houses with troops anytime,
And become altogether partners in crime,

The news are filled with photos of tortures,
But Western governments are just the watchers

They have no movement or any gestures,
Perhaps they're waiting to eat like "Vultures",

West have been playing "Divide and Rule",
Thats how they fight with this tool,

But they couldn't start a Shia-Sunni fight,
So they created "Takfiris" or "Salafis", despite,

Now they just sit back and enjoy the show,
Because they sowed this decades ago,

 O' Muslims! We must wakeup and realize,
Or we will, from earth, vanish, otherwise,

O' People of Bahrain we are with you by heart,
Every hurdle has a comfort in a part,

Even though it is Eid, tears are dropping,
As if the humanity is itself plopping.


Eid is a word for Muslims happy celebrations specially after Ramadhan. The Bahraini people are facing aggression and brutality of Bahrain's government forces since many decades. 

From the book "Take Your freedom" 2013
Available at www.amazon.com







Details | Rhyme | |

What Easter Means To Me

~What Easter Means To me~ Passover is here once again Nisan fourteenth, but what do we gain Some have chocolate eggs, that's what they wait for. But what does it mean this date we adore. It is now called Easter, in our modern times But what is the story behind this old crime The death of Jesus although long ago foretold Was not to give eggs and bunnies to hold. The death of Jesus was to wipe out our sins The resurrection was to show a new way begins On the third day when Jesus arose The women were aghast that the tomb was not closed Two men in flashing clothes stood close on by The women were frightened and did not look high Why are you looking for the living amongst the dead? Jesus is not here, he is raised up instead. Jesus died a man, the prophecy now fulfilled But was raised as a King by his father, his heavenly Kingdom to build. He gave his life to fulfill the prophecy and pay the ransom price Right down to his coat being cast lots over with dice. He died to give us all a chance to live So think about this more when chocolate eggs you do give.
By Mandy Tams~GG~


Details | Free verse | |

But with the evil, came the good

All turned down to the worst
as the children lost innocence,
as the bums drank their last breath away,
as the man eating sharks finding their way,
to the over-crowded sandy beaches,
as the man turn to the woman
and gave her a slap across the face,
as the thef steals in the night,
as the coward goes behind his loved ones' backs,
as the oil lanterns spill over and burn the bridges
to salvation and paradise.
Something always happens to the good guy,
a knife in the back in the midst of dawn,
his woman leaving with another man,
he dying slowly of cancer,
or suffering from intoxication of the blood.
Poison. Poison, ravages his body,
oh, how could God let such things happen
to such a good man?
His life work, his social life, his nirvana
all destroied, burned away, turned to dust.

But with the evil, came the good.
Yes with time and time again
repeating itself in a circle of time,
across the crossed faces,
as blue eyed Death smiles
and as the girls grin,
Everything came into place,
Anyway with evil, came the good.
Indeed it had came right to his front doorstep.


Details | Ballad | |

Poppies of Remembrance

Time, to buy our poppies
To remember once again
remember those who died for us
And those who were just maimed
We must also remember
Those, who lost their loved ones
Mothers, sister’s, daughters
Fathers, brothers, son's
What a lot of us can't imagine
What torment that must be
But they all gave their lives for us
To make our country free
In one hundred years
Two wars some endured
lost fathers in the 1st, sons in the last
This fighting is absurd
And still we send our menfolk
To fight the wars abroad
 Please end this madness
I beg thee dear lord...

We think we're in recession
But do we  really know
The hardships that our grandparents
Suffered against the foe
Bombed out of house and home
Nowhere else to go
Then all neighbours rallied round
To help they were not slow
Rationing came about
For food, for clothes, for fuel
From just scrag ends of meat
Made appetizing gruel
Women took over men’s jobs
In factories, farms and such
Blackouts, sirens, shelters
Hardship there was much 
Army, air force and navy
Were not the only ones
But fire-fighters, nurses, doctors
Air raid wardens, everyone
They all played some part
In winning against the foe
Many lost their lives
A dreadful way to go
Some might say its better
To die instantly my friends
For many, many suffered
In agony till the end
We can’t possibly imagine
What it's like there at the front
Many months of fighting
With no end in sight
In trenches, 
Your comrades all about you lying
Water logged and stinking,
Lying, crying, dying.
So please stand in silence
Remember, remember them 
They fought for our freedom
Our women and our men


Details | Free verse | |

Widow's Peak

Her name is now a legend 
Before her name was feared
The lady Henrietta 
Lean close and lend an ear

They say her status started
One night long time ago
She found her husband cheating
With the girl she knew next door

Her mind did snap
Her heart grew cold
With a knife she stole their souls
Cut the beating heart away 
Ate flesh when cold

Within her veins flowed the blood
Of the one who done her wrong
Gave her everlasting life
Her age in death was old

But one small thing that should be said
About the spell she cast
That beauty would always be her guide
In death she looked her best

Word spread quickly through the town
Where Henrietta lived
About the spell she cast the night
Her husband committed sin

Women came to ask for help 
To change their husband’s ways
For they had also messed around
Now love for them had strayed

With each one she gave the spell
Steps to end their grief
Now in the town such beauty found
In women who’s husbands cheat

With new found beauty each started life
Fresh and young again
And if the man they loved did cheat
Revenge was sweet again


Many many years went by
And soon the town was gone
Towards the end all that was left
Were women who were scorned

But in woods outside the town
In a placed called Widow’s Peak
You find plots of all the ones
Whose death came from a cheat

So this story lives today 
If you doubt then ask around
For the one you love and share a life
Could be a widow from that town

All men beware all women ask
Before you start your cheating
In every city and every town
A Widow’s Peak is forming

Believe me if you will or not
In the end you’ll heed the warning
Just let the one you love find out
To Widow’s Peak you’re going


Details | Free verse | |

Ashes to Ashes

From ashes
she rises, 
absolving
cleansing, 
face, hands, feet.
Four months, 
Ten days, 
She mourns.
She weeps.

She clothes herself now
in an adornment of white
bowing privately, 
praying fervently, 
as bitter fumes
of acetone
seep beneath the door.

Her source is god.
Her destination is god.
She pleads with god now
for peace
As men mix and pour
A holocaust
Just outside her door.

Her sisters wail.
They bathe her lifeless arms
And shroud her
as Iris Albicans- 
Exotic, 
Fragile, 
Pure.

The imam, he stands, 
Praying silently
As men convey her
towards Mecca.
From ashes to ashes
And dust to dust.
From ashes to ashes
And dust to dust.


Details | Verse | |

Bloodwoman

When the night comes,
and the world is a away,
the demons step out,
as their corpses decay.

Across Will-street,
lived a mysterious sinner.
A famous voice,
whose faintest whisper made the mighty shiver.

Her long gold locks,
made many a man weak,
till he knew her up close,
where no one could hear his helpless shriek.

Burning lust,
disappeared in her embrace,
then moving swiftly,
dripping blood from her long nails.

She was her daddy's girl, people say,
till she hit him with a gun.
No man could ever escape,
the trap of this woman.

Courage, don't be weak,
don't let your young heart loose.
She is waiting till the night birds call,
she has her sight on the whole town view.

Widows always weep,
the young is red meat,
when she kills all the sinners,
she is the bad woman.
When your daddy is cheap,
you ought to be weak,
but she is not a dying soul,
she is Bloodwoman.


Details | I do not know? | |

For Anene Booysen 1996 - 2013

Hamba Kahle Anene Booysen! (1996 – 2013)


Dead at 17, brutally raped and left to die,
in the dirt,

 

at a construction site in Bredasdorp.

 

‘horrific’, ‘repulsed’,
‘brutally raped’, ‘shocked’,

 

do these words mean anything,
to anyone,

anymore.

 

Not to Anene Booysen,

 

murdered at 17, brutally raped and left to die,

in the dirt,

 

at a construction site in Bredasdorp.

 

Anene was raped,
savagely mutilated,

 

Her 17 year old body tossed aside,

 

by the hands of men.

 

Men, always men,

 

cowardly, beastly, perverted, twisted men.

 

‘Beastly’, ‘perverted’, ‘twisted’,

 

do these words mean anything,
to anyone,

anymore.

 

Not to Anene Booysen,

 

who now lies cold and dead.

 

How many Anene Booysens will it take,

 

for us,
society,
families,
people,

 

human-beings,

 

and,

 

men, especially men,

 

to excise the ghastly menace,

 

of the heinous capacity that resides,

 

within men,

 

always men,

 

to brutalise, rape, mutilate, and murder.

 

‘Brutalise’, ‘murder’, ‘rape’,

 

do these words mean anything,
to anyone,

anymore.

 

Not to Anene Booysen,

 

murdered at 17, brutally raped and left,

 

to die,

 

in the dirt,

 

at a construction site,

 

in Bredasdorp.

 

 

Anene Booysen
(1996 – 2013)

 

* – Hamba Kahle – “Farewell, Travel Well” in Zulu

 

** – Bredasdorp is a small town near Cape Town, South Africa


Details | Rhyme | |

The Bourgeois and the Spinning Wheel

In a room filled with a solitary red hue
The bourgeois spins a wheel
With no destination, nor need
She will spin until her brittle Hands bleed
Just to satisfy her ennui and artifice
But she does not see - the rien I see
The monster approaching her empty dreams

Spinning still - she does not know
The insomniac rose will begin to grow
The thorn of clandestine and ebony
Ostracized for he began to realize
What lies in nonsense is decadence
Which sparks interest
Who's lover is a dadaist
But his story is over now
As Seth lead the way
A poet dies in dismay

The thorn as she spun penetrated
A distraction and a lack of action
She knew the temptation for she so loved the sensation
Of crass, rebellious - ways 
The thought laid it's seed
In her Gaulish mind it breeds
She has no other need and no regrets
So she proceeds and the smile lets
With full intention and desire
Caring none of her fate that will transpire 
She presses her finger on the thorn 
So now she bleeds knowingly
she did not recede


Details | Light Poetry | |

A Silent Wave

A silent wave rushing inside my heart

Your hand leading me so far we won't depart

Your voice I heard in away that's taking me far

Into a silent wave rushing inside my heart.


Oh the thrill it was to hear

your voice so silent as I opened up to you

so wonderful this silent wave rushing inside my heart


I was searching for a answer to a question for so long

there it was a silent wave rushing inside my heart


Your voice Lord, in ways I never found

a silent whisper so very loud

inside my heart the silent wave replied

to me your love is so divine..


So when the shattered dreams are filling your mind

please please listen to the silent wave rushing inside your heart.


Written by:©Betty Bolden


Details | Free verse | |

Society


They always say you can't be beautiful
Without being skinny as a stick
But damn it society I want to be seen and I want to be...
beautiful in my own way
Before the blood drips on the floor
from the scratches in my arm
from the pain inside my heart
don't you understand

You're making this too hard on us
us girls with a little extra weight
us girls with bumps on our face
just shut up I'm sick and tired of this
This shouldn't have to be my fate

I don't want to die to be seen and heard
to be recognized as someone beautiful...
But isn't that the only way?
When a society you thought you knew is telling you that you can't be beautiful
without having to fit some social standard
that's bull*****don't you understand
That's why so many teenagers are dying every day 

I want to be pretty 
without having to change
is that too much to ask

I want to be loved 
without having to change who I am! 
By a girl instead of a man
Let me live my own life
stop telling me that I can't! 

Society you're killing us all
making us take our life because you all can't understand
that being who you are is what makes you beautiful

But we have to take a knife to our throat
to make you all see
the beauty inside of us
Can't you let us be. 

I want to be beautiful...
but I just don't know how
when everyone around me 
is telling me how to live 

Make this stop
This pain and suffering

Let us all be equal
A whole 
No more hurt
no more sorrow
no more suicide

Just make it stop...


Details | I do not know? | |

My Vision of the Indian Slaughter

That day is etched in the back of my mind still
I was five yet I can still hear the screams and cries piercing in the clearing
My uncle Hodge was in the saddle on Babydoll
His best friend Wade was on a stud dealing with those problems
My uncle said " Timbo look theres Indians" then they both took off at a gallop
I look and at first I did'nt see nothing
I knew they was playing so I thought lets see if this pony can catch em
But wait now I can hear them
I look and I see women Indian and children running into the clearing
I was'nt scared they looked like innocent women and children
I figured I would see what they wanted
Then I heard the hooves beating into the earth
Then I knew their situation
I waited to see if I was mistaken
Then I seen a Soldier on horseback with a saber
cutting down a young warrior
I heard the cries of his mother
as she ran to her son who was slaughtered
I hallored at her 
I told her not too
He waited till she got closer
He smiled his eyes lit up and he struck her
I was like if I had a gun I would help ya'll
But Im not a sheep to be slaughtered

I still go there, I have found arrowheads and pottery
I was baptized in the creek beyond the clearing
There I have made money 
On Christmas I went to p[ay my respects
To that young brave warrior
I found a dead fox then
The cactus are black and dying
It is sacred ground
It is where I will face them


Details | Rhyme | |

White Saree

       White Saree

You my friend! In White(1) Saree(2) and grim faced
Your dresses were, as always, colorful and laced
What happened to that enchanting, infectious smile?
Where is that enthusiasm, your charming style?

Death is a reality and everyone must die
The living ones mustn’t be left for agony to fry
Humans are not candles that burn through the night
Tell me why widowers are not made to wear White

Why should only women this branding endure
They are also human with a heart and soul for sure
Change this White Saree and in the garbage throw
This is how a system that is archaic must go

          Come to me, my love, let me tell you what is life
Your being mustn’t be embodiment of agony and strife
Give up this white coffin and wear red, scarlet and pink
The fountain of life is gushing out; it is for you to drink

Let us, like our olden days, in horizon of thoughts fly 
Life’s rainbows await you; so do colors of butterfly
Shed your gloom and let the roses of your cheeks blossom
Walk along the valley of life hand in hand with a handsom
                                   ------
(1) In Hindu religion the widowed women are forced to wear only white cotton clothes
(2) Traditional dress of Indian & Bangladeshi women and also some other far eastern countries


Details | Free verse | |

Dead silence

pictures available
we have phones
we have drink
we have all
and we try to keep us alive
because in fact we need a good woman.
and when we get home at night
turn on the light and we have no idea if something may happens too
wherever she may be
our eyes have that color
as can be love in the middle
and no
we are not so ignorant
're just blind.


Details | Narrative | |

What Do You See

I found this old poem while helping to clean out a house that was vacant. I hope you 
don't mind that I didn't write it but it was too awesome not to post. Enjoy--------
          

                                   What Do You See

What do you see, nurses? What do you see?	
What are you thinking when your looking at me? 
A crabby old women, not very wise.
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes.
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply.
When you say with your loud voice, "I do wish you'd try."
Who seems not to notice the things that you do,
and forever is losing a sock or a shoe.
Who unresisting or not lets you do as you will.
When bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.
Is that what your thinking, is that what you see?
Then open your eyes nurse, your not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still.
As I drink at your bidding, as I sit at your will.
I'm a small child of 10 with a father and mother.
Brothers and sisters who love one another.
A young girl of 16 with wings on her feet.
Dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet.
A bride soon at 20. my heart gives a leap.
Remembering the vows I primised to keep.
At 25 now I have young of my own.
Who need me to build a secure happy home.
A women of 30, my young now grow fast.
Bound to each other with ties that should last.
At 40 my young sons near grown will be gone.
But my man stays beside me to see I don't mourn.
At 50 once more babies play round my knee. 
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead.
I look to the future and shudder with dread.
For my young ones are busy rearing young of their own.
And I think of the years and the love that I've known.
I'm an old women now and nature is cruel.
It's her jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body it crumbles, grace and vigor depart.
There now is a stone where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells.
And now and again my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and loving life over again.
I think of the years, all the few--gone to fast.
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
So open your eyes nurses, open and see.
Not a crabby old women, look closer,  see ME.

This poem was found among the effects of a patient who died at the Oxford
University Geriatric Service in England. Author is unknown.


Details | I do not know? | |

loans


You know u got it hard
when ur a single bachelor heart broken with a bachelors
tell your mother in the eye you're considering moving faster, selling weed and coke its a disaster.
This happens in Astoria as the 7 rides by, true story , emotions real, **** the other mans lies.

Its not that i cant make it , just hate to have to prove it.
I got swag for days
mofo dnt make me come to the edge blast it and walk a way like its a peaceful movement 
U dnt know me, neither does my  mirror or the illuminati file
Have no time for puppy love i kick these biches out the bed faster than gile.
babygirl im not a player i just tell you what sounds best its the way i deal with life  
sometimes i pray by being depressed, 

no captain save a hoe thats just a crazy dedication you boys are devadasi lovers thats just the iceburg devastation 
So much pain in the world and  we need more liberals in Liberia Sometimes hurt people hurt people so we left to Monroe and taught  what we learned from those people 

This isnt the west point im talking bout the real west point the slum of the world where we get no worse and have no point , to live or to die just to live die when a grown man cries.
 
we come to  a point where its not biggie or 2 pac but we take a big look to the pot where aids getting busy , drinking blood from the body , same as the first , death is a lie,believe it or not. Aids is out to attack every women needs a man, every hand is on the shoulder, Mothers did loving, whats the point liberians, she never had money so she started sucking dick, a pretty young women is another mans slave, mother did loving now the pharaoh got aids on her face

In syria shits about to get serious, shutout to the fsa where *****doesn't go our way so farmers and colleges students pick up aks to let metal spray from a triger to a hand made bomb made out of pieces from the ash tray. embreasing death happy as can be, the fastest and shortest drug int the world is dying for your family. Hustling hard to breath at a time where interest has replaced everything including humanity, **** the richs robots have replaced leaders and thats paratly for me to blame cuz i havent prayed properly. He looks at where his interest are and works there. But his heart is dead consciousness is finished 













-+


Details | ABC | |

if you only knew

when you lose sight of what really counts
its easy to focus on only whats shallow
am i too fat is my nose too big
do i walk or talk weird whats wrong with me
when we forget the depth that is here in this world
and focus on things that are just absurd
so maybe im not a supermodel and my bums a tad on the thick side
and maybe im no a genius thats getting a scholorship on my side
but does that mean im nothing that i dont count
this world is getting sickening count me OUT
im ashamed of myself for even thinking like this
and obsessing to tears over shallow petty shit
i am praying that god hears my pleas for help
because i cant conquer this all by myself
i used to not care didnt care at all
but like any other i rise and fall
i am of the opinion that your body is a shell
and youll leave it behind when you go to heaven or hell
it will rot in the ground and count for nothing
and when i meet my maker he wont care how big my bum is
some women ONLY care about their looks and they dont get it
they dont see the big picture 
and i fear theyll regret it 
and other women dont care even at all 
about their looks because their depth is so massive and raw
but then theres me in the middle with so much depth and spirituality
why do i waste time wondering what are all the things wrong with me
im sick of crying over it ive done it for too long
im sick of getting angry when i cant crawl out of my bod
its a thought that i had reguarding a cacoon
like how catapielers go into them and out comes a butterfly zoom
if i could just crawl out my mouth my soul free for just a moment
and be allowed to have a different shell to live and own it
i wonder what its like to feel just for a second
not arrogance but a sweet compliment from someone who MEANT IT
my desperate pleas go out to you and anyone else who will listen
i hate my body im sick of my face and my voice is just ridiculous
so lets just drop it in the ocean let it sail away
cuz me im going to better places where i dont have to cry all day
where i know that my body is just a little shell a vehicle if you will
its our car or truck or limo or bus to use while we use our free will
and ive always said when you go you don't take your money your lambergini
or your watch expensive jewlery its all staying beind
and you should think about what YOUR world is while im trying desperatley to fix mine


Details | I do not know? | |

A white space - part 1

(A white space. One door is labelled ''arrive'' another ''depart'' a white bed in the centre labelled ''stay''. In the bed are two women sleeping back to back, with the sheet pulled up high. A woman enters dressed semi-formally looking dazed and confused, she looks around baffled.)

Eliza: Hello, hello? My God, where am I? It''s so white, I''m so...

(A girl in the bed sits up, looks at her, frustrated at her sleep being interrupted)

Missy: You''re sooo dead.

(The other woman sits up, wearily rubs her eyes)

Martha : Missy we''ve talked about this. We let them down lightly. You mustn''t shock them like that

(She climbs out of bed, dressed in 1940''s clothing)

Martha: Nice to meet you, I''m Martha, and this delightful young thing is Missy. You are...

Eliza: Eliza. Look, where am I?

Missy : Purgatory, the ''afterlife'', heaven. Call it what you like. Honey...you''re dead.
(She steps out of bed, dressed in a school uniform, a short tie, a black mini skirt and a shirt only buttoned two thirds of the way, Eliza laughs nervously)

ELiza: No, no I don''t believe in the afterlife. When you''re dead you''re...

Missy: Dead! God..we''ve got another one on our hands Martha. You can deal with her.

Martha: Well, darling, what do you remember?

Eliza: I was in the car, with Nick, my husband, and ummm, oh, and in front of the car walked the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, a dear, all proud and tall and...

Missy: and BANG! You''re dead.

Eliza: No I must have just drifted off. This is all a dream. Isn''t it?

(She looks at Martha as if for reassurance. She receives only an apologetic look)

Eliza: Wow. Dead. That''s quite something.

(She sits on the bed)

It''s not...how I imagined. I mean, where is everyone? You must know.

Martha: You can''t know anything really. Not here. But after fifty years you begin to form ideas. I think the afterlife is separated into different rooms just like this. Every day women walk through here, weeping, confused, empty. I think this is the room where mourning mothers pass. Pushed through that door...drawn to that one. They rarely ever tell us their stories, but you can see it in their eyes you know? There''s something about a woman who has lost a child.

Eliza: Not really a woman at all.

Martha: Yes.


Details | Ballad | |

THIS BIG OLD WOMEN

I WOKE UP THIS MORNING, LOOK ACROSS MY BED.
THERE WAS THIS BIG OLD WOMEN,LYING THERE IN MY BED.
SHE PUT HER ARMS AROUND ME,GAVE ME A HUG.
I FELT LIKE I WAS BEING SQUASHED LIKE A BUG.

I WENT OUT ON THE TOWN,DID ME SOME DRINKING.
I BROUGHT HER HOME,NOW WHAT WAS I THINKING?
I DONT KNOW WHAT I DONE,OR WHAT I SAID
TO HAVE THIS BIG OLD WOMEN HERE LYING IN MY BED.

LORD,LORD HAVE MERCY ON ME.
STOP MY DRINKING,SET ME FREE.
IF I DONT STOP MY DRINKING,
THIS BIG OLD WOMEN IS GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

IT'S MY RESURRECTION TOO

two women both named Mary in the spirit of love, courage and care
went to the tomb where Jesus was laid but did not find Him there
it was the fulfillment of the prophecy that Jesus Himself said
that after three days He would arise His resurrection from the dead
an angel of the Lord was waiting there wearing raiment white as snow
It told both women to "fear not" for Jesus had to go
It said go and tell the Disciples all of Jesus' men
to go to Galilee where they would see Him again

it was a transformation, it was a cosmic victory for life
the resurrection of our Savior our Lord Jesus the Christ
but that would not be the end of this biblical story
as it's my resurrection too and I give God all the glory
on a Friday that day when Jesus was crucified
on a Friday high on a cross for my sins He died

we live in a society where the fear of living is abound
and many welcome death which seems to be all around
people are scared to live life and death is romanticized
for it is much harder to live than it is to die
but it"s my resurrection too, it's my affirmation of life
it's my resurrection too, as I also arose with Christ

Jesus came to make life justified and fair
but those in powerful positions did not want Him there
it's not that much different than what President Obama is trying to do
where those in powerful places want to get rid of him too

for us to be like Jesus who came to give us abundant life
for us to be like Jesus, the Word, the Son, the Gospel, the Christ
to overcome hatred and promote unconditional love
to overcome death and be resurrected by the power of His blood
it's my resurrection too it's my escape from a spiritual grave
it's my resurrection too for through Christ I've been saved


Details | Ballad | |

Why the dogwood tree grows

Why the dogwood tree grows.

In the middle of a vacant filed stands a grand dogwood tree where the  crows gather daily. People flock far and wide just to gaze at its majestic stature and overwhelming beauty wondering silently amongst themselves, “How this tree came to be.”

Shrouded in secrecy lays the scattered bones of a dead man. 

His hands rest against his thighs, his head turned upright as his soil filled eyes gaze upward awaiting the warm glow of the sun that sadly never comes.

The man laid to rest beneath the black dirt over time had long been forgotten, he no longer had a name, no home, or even a family of his own. Just the loving roots he had been encased in long ago.

But how this event came to be only three could say.
The women, the murder, and the forever silent dogwood tree.

The restless bones belonged to a man, a young man who had fallen in love and courted another mans betrothed. The women cared for the simple gardening man and the many trees his nimble fingers tended but her fiance was a jealous chap with rage to match.
And upon one final night after witnessing their true loves kiss the grief stricken cohort stuck the man down with his rusted pick axe and banished the gardener to his hand dug grave, placing his lifeless corpse in a vacant filed in which no one came. But what the enraged man didn’t foresee was the seed of a dogwood tree.
It fell from the deceased pocket and grew from the gardeners heart.

Year after year the tree budded magnificent flowers each possessing a hint of red staining their petals.

People marveled in its splendor gazing at the unique tree, gasping in awe and glee, but for one women its beauty agonized her for its existence was a constant reminder that no justice, nor revenge could ever be won for her simple gardening man.

And as the roots steamed onward feeling the caressing flow of a spring wind on its crimson petals the mans chest flooded with air and his dry, frail skeleton once more exuded life; 

And  as she eyed the swaying branches his memory suddenly came to life.
He was the air the tree inhaled, the nutrients it desperately needed to grow, and the reason it thrived.

Even in death he had the gardeners touch.

Her wrinkled face light up with love and for the first time in fifty years she smiled in happiness thinking to herself.

“That is why the dog wood tree grows, its out of love for my dead mans bones.”




Details | Free verse | |

One Too Many Times

It was one too many times

I felt that back hand
Rip fast across my face
My tongue no longer had a taste
For the rice pudding
Left sitting at my hospital bed side

The entire make up in the world
Couldn’t hide all the bruises
I started telling people they were tattoos
One of the many excuses
I began using so much
Until the point they were real to me

Forced myself into a new identity
That my lies could be true to
Since I couldn’t be true to myself

I wasn’t selfish

My heart and I were
Hand in hand
Racing to a beat
Only we listened to
Until my poor heart gave out
A shadow of doubt 
That I would take care of the home
That bore the very essence of my soul

Reality check
One...two...,  and

In two
Was my heart
Beating slow
Fading rhythms
Into a flat line


Details | I do not know? | |

For my Mother

For a Mother.

 

she left me

with only the thoughts of her embrace to warm me

in frigid mornings of tomorrows yet to come

she left me

with her words of tender truths to shroud me

in the coming evenings of stabbing sleet and hail

she left me

yet she stays forever within me

in my waking dreams

and in my restful thoughts

she stays forever within me

she remains an abiding part

of the love

the pain

the tears

and never shall we be

truly apart

 


Details | Rhyme | |

SOMEWHERE IN TRANSYLVANIA

Somewhere in Transylvania a pale-faced man
named count Dracula spread much terror in his land;
from his massive castle towering the towns below,
he sought fresh blood from throbbing veins
and they were of the youngest, pritties virgins
he abducted in the midnight moon's shimmering glow!


The horrified villagers left their lamps on and flashed wooden crosses 
to keep him away from their doors as he lurked in every narrow street;
innocent girls heard about him and didn't seem terrified of his teeth...
and they couldn't wait for them to sink in their necks velvety as roses!  


O Dracula, those victims dangling from the ceiling of that dark dungeon
moaned from starvation and seemed much colder that a silver rod;
and while they were dying, you still sucked the last drop of their blood!  
O Dracula, men with pointy sticks hid in your castle and waited for dawn!


How could you lay in your coffin and sleep knowing you were going to die
on any morning at the hands of angry men to wanted to avenge every cruel deed?
A stick made as sharp as a blade was the perfect tool to kill a vampire,
and as you lay asleep, they stabbed you into the heart letting blood gush as a stream! 


Somewhere in Transylvania in a castle so shunned and cursed by any traveler,  
Dracula's restless spirit roams through hunted hall of shimmering light,
and powerless as he is, he still searches for souls subdued by fright...
but as a convict with a life sentence, he is condemned to wander and despair!  
 


Details | Free verse | |

Desight

So here she lay with the gaunt rose feeling so cold…

Help is in her eyes, but the feeling is of false…

Uneasy for me to slit the way to eternal rest…

I feel this breeze weigh behind me…

 And so the knife she lay so bold…

Nonentities realized this so coming…

Help is on the way my dear…

I shall hear you sleep… 


Details | I do not know? | |

A Bad Friend

As I sit in the dark corner 
Looking about the rest of the room 
Nothing but emptiness 
I sit there awaiting my doom 
My black kitty walks about 
Pouncing on the shadows 
White lights walk on my wall 
As the cars pass my windows 
I close my eyes and plug my ears 
The screaming wont go away 
I sit there watching my friend die 
I have been waiting for this day 
She dies a slow and painful death 
As the women cuts her whole body 
Deep and penetrating cuts putting her through pain 
This women is very very naughty 
She screams when the women cuts her throat 
She is blacking out to the point where she cant see 
I sit there watching my best friend die 
To bad the women killing her is me


Details | Cowboy | |

They Came

They came to us slowly 
          in ones and twos at first. 
They were men with good hearts 
and lived with earth as one; 
Lived as we live, one with the four legged, 
two legged – all the spirits of our world 

They brought many things to trade; 
knives of iron, that our women treasure, 
Thunder sticks that kill from 
further that an arrow can fly. 

They brought cloth of bright colors 
that our women sew into clothes for us. 
They brought sugar and tea to change 
our diet of buffalo and berries 

Then more came.   
They came with bad hearts. 

They brought firewater. 
Our minds were as dizzy as our steps 
and the earth danced before our eyes. 

The black robes came and gave us their religion. 
Strange since they do not practice his teachings. 

They brought the spotted sickness 
that kills our people. 
They came and killed the buffalo 
and left the bodies to rot on the earth. 

They came like a swarm of insects, 
devouring everything in their path. 
They came and took our land 
and gave us heartbreak. 

The sacred hoop is broken 
And I cannot go home… 


Copyright 2002


Details | Narrative | |

Morning Star

Across her village far deep in to the forrest Morning Star found peace and 
contentment. Here away from her village, the young girl enjoyed the daylight 
hours with the sounds and beauty of nature and it's animals. Beyond the forrest 
the mountains held a mystery all their own. Their beauty touched her soul and 
spirit yet they seems so far off to her.Her thoughts wondered what lay over them 
and what new world lay beyond those haunting peaks reaching to the sky.
    Suddenly the early morning was shattered by the sounds of gunfire. With all 
the men gone hunting no one was there to protect the village. Morning Star's 
thoughts were of not only the others in the village but of her mother and baby 
sister, she had to get back to them. Screams of women and children cut through 
the forrest as the scent  of smoke and the sounds of horses grew closer.  
Suddenly the sounds began to fade and only the smell of smoke remained. As 
she stood at the clearing, Morning Star saw what was left of her village. Unable to 
move as her eyes looked across the bodies of women and children laying all 
around. Tears filled her eyes as she walked by so many searching for her 
mother and baby sister, hoping that they had fled to safety. There in the dirt lay 
her mother clutching her baby sister, both dead. How could this have happened? 
How could the soldiers have done this to them?
  Morning Star placed a blanket over her their lifeless bodies and slowly walked 
away. Her life as she knew it was gone, dead along with her mother and baby 
sister. She was the only survivor.  Slowly she walked back into the forrest. Dusk 
was beginning and the forrest would keep her safe for the night. Tomorrow she 
would search for a way up to the mountains, there she would find a path to her 
destiny and what the spirits have chosen for her. She would be the only one to 
tell the story of all who had been lost this day. She would be the only one to keep 
their story alive for generations after this.


Details | Free verse | |

This Love Might be Different

Two in love.
Together they are bound
But with each possessing a curse
Broken hearts to be are found
One never able to shed a tear
Even in the face of Death, whom she fears
The other only able to live off of drinking others tears
How can she survive?
She cannot stay strong for all the years she promised
But I give her my heart
And she holds it to her close
Knowing this will kill us
Maybe we will fare better as ghosts
Or maybe we are strong enough
To fight off Damnation
This love might be different
It does not have to crumble like our nation....


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

The Blood Still Flows

What god is this god,
That treats me this way,
This dark heart that wishes,
That I’d just runaway,
I’ve been treated like dirt,
But the blood is still flowing,
I’ve got the knife in my hand,
I have to keep going!

I’ve seen the hell that is home,
And rivers with blood,
I’ve seen the soulfully sad eyes,
Of that women that cries,
The tears still ride the faces of man,
The women and children,
Still crying and ran,
This home is hell,
And I’ve seen it all now.

Like I’ve said before,
The blood is still flowing,
For everybody else,
But I’m stuck here alone,
Time has stopped for me,
I’ll never die,
I’ll always cry,
Let lightning strike me a thousand times over,
I can’t hurt anymore,
The blood is still flowing,
But mine’s stopped cold. 


Details | Lyric | |

Guts, God, & Glory

            
A tribute to the women and men who fought and died and never received their 
just honors or glories.
   And to the mommas and daddies that lost these children, this is their stories.
To say the least war is hellish, ghoulish, and sometimes the last resort to settle 
irreconcilable differences.
   For it’s during these times the devil is let loose to wander freely, disguised as a 
mighty leader is just one way he can alter his many appearances.
War is always given a just and noble cause, but I often wonder sometimes how 
much truth is in all of that.
   What it really boils down to is that someone is trying to push their ways or ideas 
on you and it eventually leads to combat.
So what do you do when you are challenged with these issues.
   Pray to God for wisdom, seek strength, and courage, and hand momma the 
tissues.
It’s always our children who are the first line of defense against these causes of 
war.
   Freedom has never come cheap, and that is the only explanation you can give 
someone who loses a loved one on some foreign shore.
Could be we might be praising budda while eating that bowl of fish eyes and rice.
   Had that son or daughter of ours not paid the ultimate price.
War should never be condoned but used only as a necessary tool.
   Only for God and country should it ever be used and never allowed in the hands 
of a fool.
So I thank God for my country, and bless the ones that had to fall.
   Where would we be if these brave men and women had not answered the call.
   


Details | Rhyme | |

A.I.D.S

A.I.D.S is a virus that does not care, 
If your black, white, gay or straight. 
There is no way that we can run from this deadly disease that has become, 
A weapon of death and suicide for men and women of all kind. 
Can you give me one word or pray, 
For all the women and men who have suffered and shared, 
The pain and agony of death and defeat for they are the ones who have lead this 
evil deed. 
They ask for just one thing, 
And that is to cured. 
Is that a request that you can ignore?