Authored by Chuck Keys
It had no color,
Lacking shape, size and dimension.
It wasn't moving or breathing.
There was neither aroma nor taste, not here or there.
Touching was useless because it wasn't physical.
It was indistinct and limitless.
Multi-sensually and multi-psychologically
It wasn't here or there and it was.
With no distinction,
It looked like everything else,
Or it could not have looked like everything else.
It never made me feel good nor bad,
Nor happy nor sad
Nor quite nor trite.
In our world of joy and destroy, we sort and distort,
Looking more on the surface and less on the inside,
Ready to judge and be judged from outside in.
The "oneness" of mankind stretches beyond definitions and limits,
From outside to inside and from inside to outside.
We are one distinct and alike world of "oneness."
Differences exist for differences,
Therefore, differences don't exist.
Only "oneness" exists.
This poem is dedicated to Dr. Clayborne Carson and The Gandhi-King Community,
For Global Peace with Social Justice in a Sustainable Environment.
Copyright © Chuck Keys | Year Posted 2010
Feeling like a lodger
In my own home
Thankful for my music
And my new found roam
Families and communities
They are just so hard to find
But in April 2009
I found the most precious kind
I found the name amusing
So the button i clicked on to see
The layout was very inviting
Like an open door should be
For in a matter of minutes
On first uploading a poem
This Highlander was content
He had found a welcome home
So many lovely writers
Poets who share their bless
No longer this Scotsman is
The Man in the Wilderness
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009
I was a bright, outgoing boy, who sat at the front of the class.
Then, one day that all changed, i feared to even raise my hand for a pass.
I had many close friends, loved sports and school plays.
Then on that day fear beset me, and long gone were those days.
I remember my school, i knew it inside and out.
But now i have blank spots, certain things i've shut out.
Thanks to God and His mercy, i don't recall that foul act.
But i know that it happened, no doubt, that's a fact.
Now, to the person who did this, i have nothing to say.
But, my God will remember, and He'll get you someday!
Copyright © stanley copley | Year Posted 2006
All the little bunnies were lined up for a race. Why, you may ask?
Because the dear old Leader Bunny was stepping down with grace.
He had led the others for years without disgrace, in all pursuits.
He was their advisor, friend, and confidant... solver of disputes.
Such a lofty position was dearly sought by all…from all around.
But he could pick only one to wear that lofty, wonderful crown.
So a race was determined to quickly resolve, the question therein.
And a lovely little laurel crown was offered, to the one who did win.
Now many strategies to win emerged from within the race.
The most common was the notion to set the fastest pace…
A few would use tricks that might hurt, in order to slow others down.
A few were mean, for they wanted the power that comes with the crown.
Two were clever and would catapult each other at the very end.
A few just practiced running to gain the added stamina needed to win.
Only one little rabbit found shoes for the poor, for it was a rocky trail.
And when the race began he helped those hurt in the prevail.
Now the dear old leader had never actually worn a laurel crown.
His had been symbolic; his works had brought him his renown.
When the Leader Bunny gave the laurel crown to he who won the race…
Only a few were surprised, when the little helper won the Leader’s grace…
Though some would go on to complain because he had come in last…
It truly takes someone who knows how to serve, to lead and guide the rest.
But my moral to this story is that…. Regardless what some may think…
It takes compassion to correctly lead…and sometimes the last can be the best…
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012
envision harmony and mental clarity
focus on a journey of possibility
Meditate on transformation and
awareness of inner state
peace and healing
instruct your mind
to redirect the lost and struggling inner voice
Where you can’t see the wood for the trees
under your nose is the path of freedom
Put aside perceived struggles
revitalize, relax, respond
to body, mind, heart and spirit
Intuition, introspection and spiritual renewal
bring about personal healing and
Stillness of mind – concentration
Thoughts of the subconcious and subliminal
beyond all negativity
away from all interuption
To allow time for self communication and
expression of inner self
Senses – awareness of scent, sight, sound, taste and touch
Healing hands of the medical profession or alternative therapy
ambiance, temperature, oils, music, sounds and
sights of nature or universe
realisation comes in various form and shape
causing us to feel life in fullest expression
Connecting – whispers of wind
radiating everpresent warmth of sun
a blanket of love and light comforts consoles over and through the cosmos
rippling infinately through infinity outwards, onwards
connecting right back into where we are at right now
unmoved unchanged and as we were
Wise – responsible courageous allowed to let go of need to be judgemental or
let go of controlling enable trust wisdom and humility
intelligence of knowing others
wisdom of knowing self
strength in mastering others
power to master oneself
Energy -breath, force, spirit, soul, God, universe –
whatever – doesn’t matter how you refer to it on personal level
energy, balance, light, sound, vibration, peace
centered self – stillness – silent – eternal –
to have enough is a richness in itself
accept appreciate and acknowledge oneself
Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2011
Together the Owl and the PusyCat were married
Then again sailed out over the deep blue seas
Searching forever for the great Land of Nod,
To the place where they could find true peace.
True peace, true peace… Where they could find true peace.
The love that twined forever within their hearts
They sought throughout all the wonderous lands
Going to the place where they would live in peace,
A place where true peace, rules and lives in the hearts of the land.
The land, the land… Where true peace lives in the heart of the land.
Alas, the love of the heart, though truly not easy to find…
Is easier to find than the love of peace, found throughout the land.
So it’s said they will continue to sail, until that day comes true,
And when they land for the final time, will be up to me and you.
Me and you, me and you… That day will be up to me and you.
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012
“WHAT IS A SAD DAY IN AMERICA?”
It is a “Sad Day” in America when you wake up every day worrying about being
black, educated and female.
It is a “Sad Day” in America when you wake up every day and there is a new battle.
It is a “Sad Day” in America when you wake up living on the outside of the
American Dream, but you live within America and you have nightmares about
walking in the shoes of another race in your view.
It is a “Sad Day” in America when Civil Rights begin to regress over 40 years.
It is a “Sad Day” in America when you have to worry about what religion or
denomination you belong too.
It is a “Sad Day” in American when the words “I can” in the word American does
not represent “I can because I am free.”
Instead it becomes an obstacle because others continue to suppress me---
because of my race, religion, sex, ability or disability?
It is a “Sad Day” in America when we accept mediocracy.
It is a “Sad Day” in America when we cannot accept our fellow man or fellow
It is a “Sad Day” in America when others cannot hear or see.
It is a “Sad Day” when we can no longer show empathy.
It is a “Sad Day” when all we do is “nothing”.
The “Glorious Day” will come when we learn the history of others, walk with
others by empathizing with others and consider ourselves brothers and sisters
in “One America”, one fight, one battle, one love-- until that time “it is” and “will
be” a “Sad Day” in America.
copyright@2006 by Carrie M. Love-Atkins
Copyright © Carrie Love-atkins | Year Posted 2006
YOU’RE THE WEAK ONE
You’re the weak one, you’re a bully. The weak one is definitely
The bully is always the weak one, but your weakness you can’t
seem to see.
So, I’m going to try to shed a little light on your weak and inappropriate ways.
Your weakness began on your first bullying day.
Your false sense of power is not strength at all; it is a cry for help desperately trying to break through.
I actually feel a little sorry for you.
Weak kids like you always seek to find other kids they can dominate.
Bullies do this with vicious words, inappropriate actions, and misguided hate.
Is being a weak bully the banner you want to carry for the rest of your life?
Get rid of the bully banner forever; take up a banner that shows respect,
understanding, and tolerance for others, and always hold that one very high.
Copyright © Al Johnson | Year Posted 2012
"THE whole truth and nothing but the truth"
I have never failed or cheated, on any test I took.
Though I have taken best guesses upon one look,
I know I was a nerd, I read everything in every book.
Maybe that is why now reading is not part of my nook.
Poetry is the only thing I can handle by hook or crook.
I would have to read a recipe if I was going to cook.
Maybe there was one test that I almost failed, I took.
It would have been English, which I passed in a rook.
Now the only thing mostly I read is a manual book.
Except for poetry, which I read out loud, upon my first look,
Not that I am very smart, I guess luck is what I took.
Truth is, if it were not for luck, I would be a closed book.
this was my quest:
Cecilia, how about a truthful question!!!! have you ever totally flunked out on a test, or cheated on a test... I want the whole truth and nothing but the truth, in a poetic way... p.s... make your answer fun as can be... I think limericks, or couplets would do your question perfct..always..pd
Copyright © cecil hickman | Year Posted 2012
there across the wind
rides my silly pride
at times a sturdy arrow
at times a butterfly
how often i chose to follow
the path of the sturdy arrow
its landing was hard to find
however, when i chose to try
the path of the butterfly
never, was i too far behind
Copyright © Gerry Mattia | Year Posted 2009
I can already hear the whispers
Before I open the door
Walking down the corridor
Fluorescent lights beam down
Illuminating, my faults
“Look at her, she think she’s bad, doesn’t she?”
High heels clicking on linoleum tiles
Hips waving regardless of assaults
Lips uncurled into a blank expression
"How the hell am i going to get through this hall
without slappingone of them?"
Head up, eyes open but unseeing the ugliness of it all
It happens everyday
“I can’t believe all those guys like her, what the hell do they see in her?”
“She’s just another whore”
“I heard she’s not as smart as they say she is”
“I knowww, she probably slept with the teacher to get into the A.P classes”
“Yeah, that’s the only way, there’s not possibility of her having a brain,"
"she’s too cute”
“She’s not that cute you know”
“she’s probably just easy, all of those pretty girls are”
“I wonder where she got all her clothes, probably from the 99cent store”
“nah, too good for the 99Cent store, she probably stole it, stupid Mexican”
“Haha, I know, she’s so poor, I bet she stole that purse too, it’s too nice for her”
“She’s so straight-edge, tree-hugging, boy-friend stealing, attention hog..”
“Stupid ugly slut”
Oh PLEASE, they don't even know me
Lord, spare me from these Barbie clones
That spawn over generations
Bleach blonde hair
With purses as big as their bodies
Hollow heads with a button nose
These, Sharks, beady eyed, immense jaws yawning
Try to eat victims alive
In a single gulp
Flock together like vultures mercilessly to consume
Girls worthy of attention
I laugh when I hear them whispering
Are bent on bending
Twisting reflections in the mirror
When really, it’s beautiful
Inside and Out
I know what I am and could care less
About what they think
Keep talking about me, your making me Famous
Movie Star Status, I have what they Want
I let them feed on my inner glow
It’s what attracts them, you know
Until they get so full of me
Copyright © Bella Cardenas | Year Posted 2007
How to maintain credibility
Granulated points of view, they will not pan out.
They will sift through the strain, and leave your crowd with doubt.
This is always something, you must try to avoid,
or that crowd will toss your words, right into the void.
You can say what you want, but always say what you mean.
Here is my example; I wish the sky were green.
If you’re going to make a choice, you better know what you want,
'cause if your theory has its holes, your decision's going to haunt.
First make sure that they’re sound, then free em like a bird.
Throw your thoughts into the sky, and let them all be heard.
By the people that will flock, and they have open ears,
just try not to change your vision, in a couple years.
Certain people won’t forget, and they will soon admit,
they found meaning in what you've said, so don’t you contradict.
It shouldn’t be a challenge, if you follow line 5.
The only thing you can safely say is it’s good to be alive.
Now do not get me wrong, I know your brain will grow,
Your opinions they will change, based on what you know.
And now please don’t panic, you're not a hypocrite,
As long as at the time, you believed in it.
Now if you say what you've said, just for your own sake,
You've broken fundamental rules; now give your head a shake.
It’s not about an answer, that will surely please,
You got to say what’s on your mind, if it cuts you to your knees.
And now folks, once again, like I’ve already said,
Your beliefs are going to change, like precious gems to lead.
If someone doesn’t know this, and the bastard calls you out,
You should know it doesn’t matter, that’s not what it’s about.
And if your views turn inside out, stand on your two feet,
and never speak a single word with your crosshairs on deceit.
We know that with opinion, there is no right or wrong,
Just make sure that you follow the tune of your own song.
If you manage to change a mind, this is victory,
there’s nothing quite like hearing 'em say "I guess I do agree".
This is all good advice, to everyone it applies,
If you don’t live by this you'll be caught in your own lies.
It shouldn’t be a conscious effort; it should all come by itself,
if it doesn’t than you’re liar, improve your mental health.
Every line I’ve written here is indeed a fact,
there’s no room for argument, do you agree with that?
Now I'm done, there’s my view and I have written lots,
but didn’t you listen to my poem? Get your own damn thoughts!
Copyright © Dustin Mulligan | Year Posted 2011
When you touched me,
I opened my eyes,
Nobody was there,
That I realised,
You was only there,
Everywhere was darkness,
My vision failed,
My eyes acrossed through invisibility,
Everywhere was darkness,
My eyes failed to touch you.
But you was there,
Somewhere in the darkness.
I have my belief,
You are only one,
Who can deliver justice!
But you never get justice,
When you submitted your plea,
A religion cried against you,
And demanded to crucified you,
You were sacrified for justice,
But few days after,
You were born again,
To convey only this message,
You are only Son of God,
You shall deliver justice,
I believed over the centuries,
But justice is still questioning,
Innocents are still suffering,
Mercy and forgiveness,
Those were developing in a cage of bribery,
Where only evil has his power.
Nobody can achieve justice,
Earth is a capital of evil,
He is only on worshipping target.
A Human never learns a lesson.
Copyright © Daljit Khankhana | Year Posted 2006
I do not know?
(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)
Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom:
Solomon Mahlangu was trained as an MK soldier with a view to later rejoining the struggle in the country.
He left South Africa after the Soweto Uprising of 1976 when he was 19 years old, and was later chosen to be part of an elite force to return to South Africa to carry out a mission commemorating the June 16th 1976 Soweto student uprising.
After entering South Africa through Swaziland and meeting his fellow comrades in Duduza, on the East Rand (east of Johannesburg), they were accosted by the police in Goch Street in Johannesburg.
In the ensuing gun battle two civilians were killed and two were injured, and Mahlangu and Motloung were captured while acting as decoys so that the other comrade could go and report to the MK leadership.
Motloung was brutally assaulted by the police to a point that he suffered brain damage and was unfit to stand trial, resulting in Mahlangu facing trial alone.
He was charged with two counts of murder and several charges under the Terrorism Act, to which he pleaded not guilty.
Though the judge accepted that Motloung was responsible for the killings, common purpose was argued and Mahlangu was found guilty on two counts of murder and other charges under the Terrorism Act.
On 15 June 1978 Solomon Mahlangu was refused leave to appeal his sentence by the Rand Supreme Court, and on 24 July 1978 he was refused again in the Bloemfontein Appeal Court.
Although various governments, the United Nations, International Organizations, groups and prominent individuals attempted to intercede on his behalf, Mahlangu awaited his execution in Pretoria Central Prison, and was hanged on 6 April 1979.
His hanging provoked international protest and condemnation of South Africa and Apartheid.
In fear of crowd reaction at the funeral the police decided to bury Mahlangu in Atteridgeville in Pretoria.
On 6 April 1993 he was re-interred at the Mamelodi Cemetery, where a plaque states his last words:
‘My blood will nourish the tree that will bear the fruits of freedom.
Tell my people that I love them.
They must continue the fight.’
Mahlangu died for a cause!
The Struggle Continues…
(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013
Thank you – Zamreen Zarook
Thank you is a sweet word in the nature,
You may be a guy of adventure,
May be you are a person of agriculture,
What matters is your architecture.
Never forget the people, who guided you,
In no degree neglect who were with you,
Don’t ever overlook a creature, who gave a smile to you,
Because, you will meet them above you.
People forget the past due to selfishness,
They have no time to remember their unawareness,
Society, most of the times behave in awfulness,
They will understand when their lives come in to bitterness.
Be a person to thank and remember,
Don’t consider them as December,
Because, you might need them in November,
So, always be as a good subscriber.
Copyright © Zamreen Zarook | Year Posted 2013
Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
One of Life’s indisputable facts:
Government reserves the right to tax;
And tho’ they waste far more than they should,
It’s supposedly done “for the common good.”
Economists use the word “propensity,”
Just a fancy word for “odds”, you see:
The odds you’ll save, the odds you’ll spend,
And how many Tax Dollars those odds will rend.
The basis for U.S. government budgets is “Total Tax Dollars Collected”;
And any overtures to reduce those collections are summarily rejected;
And should a source of taxes have declined or dissipated,
Other taxes are increased and/or new taxes are created.
Many, if not most, of these taxes are “regressive”.
That means their actual impact on income is “progressive”...
But “progressive” in a very negative way.
Relatively speaking, the Less you make, the More you pay.
Whether you make it or sell it, need it or want it, Congress will tax it;
And, once a tax is on the books, Congress has zero “propensity” to relax it.
Congresses, Federal and State, love to tax Luxury and Sin;
Smoking Sinners have had their taxes raised again and again and again.
Cigarette taxes are frequently raised, the “claim” is to drive users to quit;
But Truth is measured in Billions in taxes, so we know supporters are “full of it.”
Meantime, Non-smokers reap many benefits, while Smokers foot the bill;
And if that should change, Non-smokers would taste a financially “bitter pill.”
Taxed and taxed and taxed some more, but not yet into submission,
Smokers could shift their tax burden to Non-smokers…without their permission.
Yes, what if one Fateful day, those Smoking Sinners, Each and Every one,
Just put them down and said, “I quit.”; said en masse, “We’re done!”
Congresses would be clamoring to derive Billions in Taxes elsewhere,
At first, Non-smokers may not realize the impact they’re about to bear.
When an industry dies, businesses and people’s jobs are lost…it’s true;
But all those Tax Dollars must come from somewhere...the likes of me and you.
So righteous, whining Non-smokers maintained their hue and cry.
Ever pushing Congresses to tax those Smoking Sinners… tax them ‘til they die;
But after quitting, Ex-Smokers would pay less, while Non-Smokers would pay more.
Guess Non-smokers didn’t think far enough ahead, didn’t really know the score.
All those dreary anti-smoking ads, many of which falsified the cause,
Would disappear. And what about all the useless anti-smoking laws?
Instead of Non-smokers not liking Smokers, Ex-Smokers would serve instead.
"The bastards are costing me money. I wish they had smoked 'til they were dead."
So, Ex-smokers would be getting healthier and spending far less;
And may be cause for some Non-smokers’ financial distress.
While they ruefully pay more, Ex-smokers' pocket books will attest
By reminding Non-smokers daily......the Last Laugh is Best.
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
Sometimes my poetry is just a case of words,
and not necessarily my reality;
and that’s what is so beautiful about writing
You can be who you want to be on any level
and tell secrets about fantasies that may never be;
or take trips to other dimensions on mental journeys, or places that some don’t even think exist
They mimic thoughts that manifest themselves as poetry
and rest on pages patiently waiting to adhere
My words are a reflection of my heart
and they reveal the truth behind my mask of fear
they deliver reality doses whether they are just cases,
or me in the absolute right here
My words exude positive intentions;
my imperfections apparent but I accepted rejections
and reversed dejection
and decided to bare all my fantasies, my flaws my very soul
Uncertain how voiced verses appeal to outside sources but internally they set me free
They provide a medium of light and creativity
A chance to apply knowledge and a time for reflecting on and making changes in my frequency
My words are attached to my soul and its overwhelming ability to just be
They reflect what I was before
the choices I’ve made and the reasons that this life is perfect
according to divine order
They represent the voices of my ancestors from the beginning of time
because up until now,
the ending wasn’t within reach so I make sure that I
carefully choose the format and the right place and time
to deliver the message that may be blatant or hidden inside –
of the abstract placements of verbs
giving praise to the source of power that calmly submits to the voice
connected to my words
I am the originator of my own words
I hope that you are inspired, or simply entertained
by the process by which I've placed my words
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012
Queasy anxiety, a fearful edginess of dread,
an old and omnipresent sense of doom
taint the times that random opportunity affords
to slip convention's chains, to openly proclaim
a saner point of view, a logical rejection
of muddy, inane thinking, of tradition-bound
adherence to stupidity's insistent songs
that perpetuate a myriad of wrongs.
Let there be no turning back; face the fears, be the change --
for diversity, humanity, acceptance, brotherhood,
and love. Explain, support, convince. Break the silence:
come out, come out, whoever and wherever you may be!
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2012
I Don’t Hate America
I like the country I live in
That doesn’t mean I have to sing their songs
to prove that sh@!.
That doesn't mean that
I can just can’t get over the fact that
they murdered the people who built it
America was dedicated to a proposition that
“all men are created equal, except
for women, indians and blacks
The white men were just fine is what we were told
but what about those who were stolen that never made it over to NEW WORLD?
The ones that were thrown overboard and
those who died from sickness while in transport
Remember those who were born into slavery and never even knew what freedom was before their physical bodies left
and people like Thomas Jefferson
He understood that slavery was wrong but did not free his own until his death
What about those who beaten senseless and burned, and hanged,
All while screaming “Nigger" What’s your new name?
Oh how soon do we forget…
That’s why I despise that word and
I don’t care who it is that uses it
#u$k that slavery sh@!
And #u$k that flag b@%ch!
#u$k you America because you’ve always made things hard .
So don’t look at me strange when I show those songs disregard and those fake ass patriotic undertones about how we are the land of the free
more like the land of the captured and the Home of the Slaves, see
I don’t’ hate America
I can be and do and go as I please
But, then I remember the poor people they injected with disease
They thought they were getting free health care but the doctor is giving them syphilis
I remember the natives of this land
They slaughtered and labored them to work for freedom in their own land
I remember the Civil War
where we were a country divided by the Mason Dixon Line
The north and the south of the same country at war to save lives
I don’t hate America
This is my home
But I refuse to let the things that
my ancestors endured during the struggle of building SUCH A FINE COUNTRY be forgotten
It’s 2012 and the politicians still plottin to find a way to take away the black vote
It’s the same shit, but now they just don’t use the noose to choke the life out of souls
I’m so tired of the constitution and it’s loop holes, and amendments, and acts, and laws
This just proves that man can’t govern themselves because even with all these rules we constantly fall into the black hole deeper and deeper
I don’t hate America
I just choose to not take part in its little song and dance
I pledge my allegiance to God
and continue to write and lose myself in my poetic trans
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012
Land of the free
Home of the slaves
The blood, sweat and tears of my ancestors resonate
Amongst the soil where they were slain
I’m hearing their struggle
I’m feeling their pain
I can’t imagine being forced to part from my family
All for massa’s gain
So I pay homage to those who promoted change
People like every slave who tried to escape
Nat Turner, Ms Carlotta, Harriet Tubman
And the safe houses who were in accord
And peg leg Joe with his song
Follow the drinking gourd.
People like, the disregarded - those thrown overboard
And who was dismissed and defamed
The ones who were stripped of their soul, their pride, their names
The list could go on
The full will never be told
So I pay homage to others who were bold
Like John Brown, The Freedom Riders, Sojourner Truth
Ida B Wells, Phyllis Wheatley, Maya Angelou,
Langston Hughes and Charles Drew
George Washington Carver, Ruby Bridges
Booker T Washington and Mary McCleod Bethune
Charles Houston, Ralph Bunche, Fredrick Douglass
WEB Dubois, Paul Robeson, Ralph Abernathy
Benjamin Banneker, Marcus Garvey and Crispus Attucks
Who’s death by the way
Symbolized the American lie
You cant declare the rights of all men
While the people of African decent rights get denied
But still we rise
Thanks to Dr Martin Luther King, Malcolm X,
The Black Panthers, the Buffalo Soldiers and Tuskegee Airmen
None who were showed any love
Yeah it’s an uphill battle,
But obviously greatness can be done.
We can rise above this stigma
That blacks are lazy and daunting
That our worth is null and void
And in essence minus nothing
And of all the names mentioned
And the greatness of their successes
No one has been able to erase the evil transgressions of a racist mind
And once you have experienced just a taste of it
It changes your perception of time
The oppression beats like the drum on the chariot
Of when it was finally time to escape to freedom
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2011
L Long ago travelled Kings
O Opened their minds to prophecies
V Visiting from afar they brought gifts of Gold, Fracincense and Myrrh
E Eastern Star guiding them lighting the way
C Company of Heavenly Host
A Allelujah! Angels appeared to Shepherds, telling Savior born
M Manger for bed wrapped in cloths in Town of David
E Evangelically proclaimed Christ the Lord
D December 25th designated day
O On which we recollect
W Why/way Christ entered our world
N Nativity only part of His story
A A new testament
T Tells of new covenant between God and His people
C Christ's coming to Earth
H Hailed as new born King, Holy
R Risen Lord, righteous redeemer,
I Intercedes for us as
S Spiritual Saviour to save sinners souls
T Time for Truth, Trust, Trinity
M Man's belief in God of Love,
A As Father Son and Holy Spirit
S Shall be saved
Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2009
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2006
India is a land full of festivities,
Lots of relaxation to the Indians surely it gives-
Most of these are ceremony leaves -
Some are due to great men's deeds.
All direction does it cheer-East,West,North,South,
It fills with sweets every big and small mouth,
The year begins with the New Year,
Every 'life' remains busy sending cards to nears and dears.
The 26th January follows-the day of our constitution,
The Gandhi Jayanti makes us realise the power of his non-violence vision.
The Saraswati Puja Specially for the students,
During which they pray for the result in the forthcoming examinations.
15th August is the day of glory,
The Indians on the graves of sacrifice respect garlands of flory.
5th September is celebrated as the Teachers's day,
This is the day when wisdom feels proud and gay.
The Ganesh Chaturthi,The Durga puja comes with the chill in the Autumn sky,
Joy seems unlimited ,time seems to fly;
Like the enjoyment a child gets on seeing a muticoloured butterfly;
Near and dear ones return home in flights-
When the sky is rent with dazzling 'Diwali Lights'.
Soon after a month-the festival X-mas fills us with lot of fun,
It comes when the weather cools the hot sun.
These are some and there's many others-
Which make our mind light as a feather.
The written festivals are some of the noted-
But there are so many that they can't be jotted.
Copyright © Sonnet Mondal World Poet | Year Posted 2008
If it is off, I must turn it on.
If it is on, I must turn it off.
If it is folded, I must unfold it.
If it is a liquid, it must be shaken, then spilled.
If it a solid, it must be crumbled, chewed, stepped on or smeared.
If it is high, it must be reached.
If it is shelved, it must be unshelved.
If it is pointed, it must be run with at top speed.
If it has leaves, they must be picked.
If it is plugged, it must be unplugged.
If it is not trash, it must be thrown away.
If it is in the trash, it must be removed, inspected, and thrown on the floor.
If it is closed, it must be opened.
If it does not open, it must be screamed at.
If it has drawers, they must be rifled.
If it is a pencil, it must write on the refrigerator, monitor, or table.
If it is full, it will be more interesting emptied.
If it is empty, it will be more interesting full.
If it is a pile of dirt, it must be laid upon.
If it is stroller, it must under no circumstances be ridden in without protest. It must be pushed by me instead.
If it has a flat surface, it must be banged upon.
If Mommy's hands are full, I must be carried.
If Mommy is in a hurry and wants to carry me, I must walk alone.
If it is paper, it must be torn.
If it has buttons, they must be pressed.
If the volume is low, it must go high.
If it is toilet paper, it must be unrolled on the floor.
If it is a drawer, it must be pulled upon.
If it is a toothbrush, it must be inserted into my mouth.
If it has a faucet, it must be turned on at full force.
If it is a phone, I must talk to it.
If it is a bug, it must be swallowed.
If it doesn't stay on my spoon, it must be dropped on the floor.
If it is not food, it must be tasted.
If it IS food, it must not be tasted.
If it is dry, it must be made wet with drool, milk, or toilet water.
If it is a car seat, it must be protested with arched back.
If it is Mommy, must make her dirty
If it is sibling, must slap,kick,and fight.
If it has four legs, must squeeze tight until makes noise
If big person is on phone, must make lots of noise
If tv is not on cartoons, scream until they are
If food is not good, throw it, refuse to eat it and cry until big people give you something good
Copyright © mandy cabral | Year Posted 2012
Words said, sung, written
Bred man's civilization.
Words made us human.
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
We would like to welcome you,
To our celebration created just for the people who,
Are significant members of our family tree.
We love you indeed.
You’ve guided us to achieve many goals.
We want to be like you.
Grandma and grandpa we hold you dear to our hearts,
And even when you’re gone we’ll carry your legacy,
On to our future members of the family tree.
Today we want you to view,
What we hold in our hearts oh so true.
We welcome and value you,
So sit back relax and enjoy the program
Designed for you involving your grand boys and girls.
Grandparents you make our world go round,
And we hope that you enjoy our gracious sounds.
Copyright © Nicole Sharon Brown | Year Posted 2009
Judas betrayed Jesus’s whereabouts
End, was near
Son of God, knew this
Universe of the Son of the Divine Father, restored
Sins of man forgiven, Prince of our Universal domain, alive in the hearts of his children
Copyright © Amy Rose | Year Posted 2013
whispering about sex
sex is natural
everyone's whispering about sex
masculine and feminine energy
male and female sex
let’s talk about it
let’s talk about sex
he's staring at it
going at it
no calls, no text
lose the negative stigma
associated with sex
sexual education is up next
here’s what we need to know
admire the body
it inspires growth
blindfolded, suck on toes
no shame in it
play with it
see where it goes
sex is not to be put to shame
sex so good
I call out his name
sex so good
sex so good
sex is an antidote for emotional pain
Copyright © Nailah Baniti | Year Posted 2016
An old man looking out his door,
gaze fixed on a distant shore,
reminiscing to a time, not of happiness,
or, the prospect of a bright future,
to when he was sick to his very core,
to when as a youth, he went to war
A time before infallibility had meaning,
patriotism and bravado the craze,
the future was still unknown,
vigor for life at its all time high,
a time for romance, partying, buying,
no thought of pain, deformity, dying
Too young to understand or question,
ship to foreign shore, medals abound,
will impress the girls next time in town,
sacrifice not temporary,
a legacy etched into a wall, few will remember,
flesh shredded, burned, torn,
A time, when he willingly went to war,
will happen no more,
all lost in youth, now unrelenting,
no blind obedience,
long life, his number one ambition
As he turns back from the door,
he thinks of the youth,
here now, soon no more,
lessons never learned,
the call to war,
to common the roar,
complacency the mood,
another generation removed
The old man agonizes
over what was originally not known,
war is preventable,
life too precious to waste,
the solution simple,
his vision, maybe too late
Send old men to the front to fight,
arthritis, heart disease, poor eyesight,
let the youth enjoy their life,
his near over, its only right
Send old men, to the front, to fight
ask them to give up their life,
patriotism and bravado, still alive,
will and desire would not last the night,
old men do not rush to death in their twilight,
failure inevitable, the old man smiles,
knows he's right
Wars not possible,
if old men, are sent to fight
Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010