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Death Political Poems | Death Poems About Political

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

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Details | Free verse | |

My Mother's Eyes- Thoughts on the Armenian Genocide

They dragged her away
Kicking and screaming
Arms outstretched towards
My little sister
Who lay dying on the ground
Her lips parched
Her eyes sunken
Her wasted arms reaching out
“Myreik, don’t leave me!”
My father pulled her away from 
The young soldier’s hands
The one who had violated her
The one who now sneered
“Keep moving….she will be dead
Before nightfall.”
I hurried after them
Stumbling through my tears
Afraid of being left behind
I turned for one last look
There she lay…her eyes closing
Left behind to join the
The dead along the path
My sister….
That night I didn’t hear her cry
Or complain as the soldiers
Dragged her away
She was beautiful
My mother
With eyes the color
Of the sea
Eyes that danced
And twinkled
Like stars on a clear night
Eyes that smiled
Eyes that embraced
Eyes that spoke
What words couldn’t say
I fell asleep to the sound of my father’s weeping
“Wake up,” I heard her say
As I fought to keep my dreams alive
My eyes fluttered open
I closed them to the hungry faces
I closed them to the filth on her dress
I searched her eyes
Calm and glassy
They looked past me
Not seeing
In them I read
No pain
No joy
No recognition
Tears sprang to my eyes
Tears for the death of my sister’s body
Tears for the death of my mother’s soul…
My mother’s eyes
My mother’s eyes...
They haunt me still.

Copyright © Eileen Manassian

Details | Blank verse | |

he is leaving home

                  In great respect of the band I grew up listening to
                       as sure as Mom passed down Saturday Chores 
                      for I had been chosen to scrub bathroom floors `

                    Yet a familiar sound would bring me to keep scrubbing
                       The red album, The blue album , The White album 
                        Then .. Abbey Road , always remembering the sad look on
                  Ringo's face ,  something hard to understand underneath~
                      I get it now, what you were saying all those years ago ,
                    the many sad lonely tears , secret tears , secret fears 
                    For Maxwell's Hammer was a real one . It wanted silence

                    Going back ..remembering when John Lennon died 
                      I was in Arkansas saddened with the world .
                      Then seeing his face saying " Drag isn't it " 
                      No .. this was not my hero in music and song .

                      he was a stand in hired William , he filled his shoes 
                      bringing diversity to create so much beautiful music from loss

                       One left standing , alone;; grief struck on back cover ~
                       The other identity hidden, tried to be part of ..coming together
                            his  world of secrets
                        He to suffers today , in fear , Faul~
                        Too many years gone by .let us tell the Truth. Let us be free
                         The very sad long and winding Road ~
                         Let us Bury our real Paul. 

                         No more " Mystery tour "
                             No more fear 
                                Let him be in peace ~

           Inspired by " The Last Testament of George Harrison , Is Paul Dead ? "


Copyright © Shanity Rain

Details | Rhyme | |

Trayvon Brown

Walk with me,

cuz I don't wanna die young, 
I wanna grow old and have 
a daughter or a son, or maybe both, 
to live a full life is my hope,
but the bullets in your gun 
are a noose around my throat.

I promise you I wanna LIVE,
I wanna show the world everything I have to give
and it's a lot, and yea I might smoke a little pot,
but so Bill Clinton and HE didn't get shot.

I got plans for my future,
that don't include a cop saying
stop and let me shoot ya

my hands are clearly in the air
I start school next week and I wanna
make it there.

But you..... SHOT,
and let me die in the streets,
now my people want answers 
No justice no peace.

Copyright © Cairo Asikari

Details | Free verse | |

To Weak To Cry

When I think of the plight that children face all over the world
I just want to cry
Hunger starts and ends their everyday
As many of us continue to waste away
The scraps that we toss could save a child’s life
I’ll tell you the human race is nothing nice
We have no problem spending trillions on war
As children starve to death outside a millionaires store
They put locks on the dumpsters to keep them out
To greedy to give what they are throwing out
I watched a show just the other day
That showed Children just wasting away
Right there in their mothers arms
As I ate my giant bowl of lucky charms
Pirates raiding off the Somalia Coast
Because their children’s eyes are hollow as a ghost
If my Children were starving these words are true
Captain Hook wouldn’t hold a light to you know who
I think in the overhaul scheme of wrong and right
Mankind in general has lost all sight
Could you imagine kissing your child’s last breath?
The rich get richer as they starve to death
So as you all tuck your kids into bed tonight
Kids all over the world will lose their fight
They will simply lie down and die
To hungry to fight to weak to cry

Shelters that feed the Hungry are in every
town, when was the last time that you gave
something. No person is any greater than the
depth of their compassion. To give is to receive
for there is no greater blessing in this life. Keep
what you need and give the rest and the Lord will
make sure you never run out. God Bless, MJ
Written for Sami's contest

Copyright © Michael Jordan

Details | Quatrain | |

The Vietnam War

The pro-Hanoi Vietcong many years ago
In the 1950's Diem's government they'd overthrow
All opposition was crushed killed or jailed
These elected ones to their people they failed

This Buddhist country so religious in belief
Now politically torn apart, impending future grief
In the early 1960's with the CIA in place
Discussing with Vietnam's generals, Diem, assassinated in disgrace

With the Vietcong army, growing from strength to strength
Another communist foothold, going to any lengths
In 1965, with 3500 U.S. Marines in place
By December of that year, 200,000 in many a base

These U.S. Marines, in their defensive mode
Over the coming months, peace would soon erode
With the Tet Offensive upon us, and the "Battle of Hue"
The Americans were now involved, this bloody war now brews

One decision to end this conflict, came in 1969
Nixon sent 18 B-52s, bordering Soviet airspace line
He wanted to show he was capable, to end this bloody war
But as the months and years progressed, the body count would soar

The anti-war movement was gathering strength, also in 1969
But the "Green Beret Affair" started to undermine
A U.S. Army platoon raped and pillaged, the village of My Lai
Where civilians were massacred, and many left to die

In 1970-71, Cambodia incurred wars wrath
Where they and the country Laos, were in the U.S. bombing path
Also in 71, there was the cutting of the Ho Chi Minh trail
But arms and supplies got through, this mission to no avail

Later in the same year, the Anzac's withdrew their soldiers
The U.S. also reduced, many of theirs from Vietnam's borders
In 1973, Nixon declared the suspension of offensive action
The Paris Peace Accords took place, peace with this warring faction

Between the years 73 - 74 under Trà, the Vietcong grew in strength
There was no mass offensive, to lure the Americans to their trench
Gradually they marched to their target, to see their enemies eyes
To their city of Saigon, now over a million humans have died

The average age of the American to die in this bloody war
Was just nineteen years old, never knowing what they were fighting for
So many came home from this horror, leaving themselves behind
Because so many came home different, home with a different mind

Even to this day, many Americans look back and ask
Why their elected Congress, feed them to these tasks
The sad thing about Vietnam, it continues to this present day
Where governments make decisions, asking guns to hear their say

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Rhyme | |

Plockton - Wester Ross

The greatest holiday gift I ever received  
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears

I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin

For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so

Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading

We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy

We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores

On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through

A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee

My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve

This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for

We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me

Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Quatrain | |

Average Age 19

Once again, the powers that must
In rise again in what we trust
An overseas conflict, another war
Just what in the hell are we fighting for

Families are asking, Korea has just passed
Generations again reft, how long will it last
A country in need, to rebuild again
Flags at half mast, in wind and rain strain

Once again into war, sent by the Washington Post
To send back reports to hit home the most
Military observers were the first to be sent in
Another chapter of man entering existing sin

I'm witnessing our ariel power, Lam Son 719
US planners determine their incursion, saying all will be fine
Along the Mekong River, we'll carpet bomb their supply trail
Tons of munitions and napalm, this spread surely cannot fail

Many sorties are being flown, for the wounded and the dead
Whilst Nixon and his cronies, aren't thinking with their heads
The news of losses has reached me, nineteen have been killed
Eleven missing, fifty nine wounded, more American blood spilled

Seven fixed wing aircraft, more sons in action loss
Whilst back at home more protests, fading the dyeing's gloss
To to this job that I do, I was never prepared for this
To witness such bloody scenes, and ignore that life is bliss

How can I write about a soldier, whose name I'll never know
Killed at nineteen years old, his family he'll never see grow
Or even explain to his parents, when carried from the AH-1
His body bullet riddled and limp, when lifted it bloodily run

I never went back to the theatre, called the Vietnam War
Having witnessed the wanton killing, what were we fighting for
This colonial conflict that started, us on the side of France
So many came back as strangers, many to live in trance

James Fraser's entry into the contest " WORLD OF WAR: VIETNAM "

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Free verse | |

L. I. F. E. (Living In Fear Everywhere)

L iving 
I n
F ear
E verywhere

Just as we live and just as we die 
We laugh, kill and crucify
We are no more our brothers than we are ourselves 
We are the players 
With the tools and talent of the efficient demise 
Of war, famine and greed 
We do rise
Of the ever constant ricochet of freedom in our ears
As we wrap our fallen dead in a shroud of rights, laws and bills 
And continue to improve the technology, the precision 
The assurance of absolute destruction 

Buying death is easy
Dealing is easier 
The career choice of many 
A thriving business with prestige and power 
Taking, wanting, hungry for the rush 
So young, so fragile 
Blood is running in the streets 
A seemingly endless fountain of misguided youth 
Falling, one after the other 
So far from the truth 

S  hocked 
A  ngry
D  epressed 

What good has ever come from a gun ?
Why kill ?
Why are we arming our children ?
Our future ?
Are you blind to the fact ?
Do you not hear the sound ?
Do you not see ? 
Do you not care ?
We are killing ourselves 
Stealing each others dreams 
Each others families 
Why pro-create ?
To produce, raise, and nurture more disposable targets ?
Is there another use for guns ? 
1 + 1 = 0
One bullet + one individual = one less reason to care 
We are waging war upon our brothers for money, love and survival 

G  ive 
U  s
N  o
S  anity

All to easy....................
Living In Fear Everywhere 

Eric (and sometimes not)

Copyright © Eric Nolan

Details | Cinquain | |


Each shoe,
a life He knew,
buds of His olive tree-
next time perhaps,it could be you..
or me !

Inspired by Abe's photos

Copyright © Brian Strand

Details | Rhyme | |

The Devil & The Kennedys (Part Two)

His voice the hiss of serpents,
he acknowledged the pact unmade,
but now he was here to tell him
how the debt would be repaid.

"All your sons, and all their sons,"
the devil's eyes glowed red,
"will perish while still very young,
yes, all of them, cold and dead."

With that, the devil vanished,
not long after, Joseph died,
and Jack, now the eldest,
found his career on the rise.

He married a well-bred woman,
she made a beautiful bride,
but their first-born child, a son,
very quickly died.

But how the public loved him,
the White House was Camelot,
but Satan hadn't forgotten,
and guided Oswald's shot.

Next in line was Bobby,
and he soon, too, was slain,
now Edward became paranoid,
though justified, ashamed.

Edward wasn't pleased with God,
the curse of his surname,
he knew someone would kill him,
if only for the fame.

And, one day, those fateful words
slipped through his lips as well,
the devil appeared as a gent,
and with a pact to sell.

Now, Edward was not evil,
but perhaps a little weak,
vehemently he refused, at first,
but Satan continued to speak.

The devil knew his weak spots,
affirmed he'd soon be dead,
then offered an alternative,
made up of hope and dread.

"You will live a long and worthwhile life,
and your children will live, too,
but in exchange for these gifts,
there are two things you must do:

You must find a young and innocent girl
and give her soul to me.
You, alone, must take her life,
but you'll escape scot-free.

The other thing you must give me
is your most passionate dream,
that is, to become president,"
the devil's smile obscene.

Well, Chappaquiddick happened,
and he got off scot-free,
I think he tried to be the best,
most honorable he could be.

But Satan keeps his promises,
and John-John's plane went down,
and now the pact is finished,
for there's no more left around.

©Danielle White

Copyright © Danielle White

Details | Rhyme | |

Driving Under The Influence

“Your honor, after consulting with the District Attorney, we have agreed to a plea bargain agreement. The father, mother and sisters of the victim have requested that in lieu of a jail sentence, justice would better be served if my client be ordered to pay only restitution which would include the following”...

Walk back to that street
Crawl inside that wreck
Feel his last heartbeat
Touch his broken neck

Wake up in their dream
Face their blackest fears
Hear his mother scream
Collapse inside their tears

Stumble through their haze
Hate their morning lights
Trudge through empty days
Dread their sleepless nights

Cower on their edge
Hear their demons hiss
Slip upon their ledge
Fall in their abyss

Snap beneath their strains
Bleed out from their wounds
Spatter from their brains
Rot inside their tombs

Toe the line you crossed
Bear the cross you made
Lose what they have lost
Pay the price they paid...

(Yes, walk back to your street
Crawl inside your wreck
Feel your last heartbeat
Touch your broken neck)

*N/A for the contest 'Love Justice' judged 1/21/2015

Copyright © Tim Ryerson

Details | Rhyme | |


I'm very small
I am called Standing Tall
My story to be read as i live through it all.

Our Dakota lands are forest and vast
Where our ancestors have hunted
From long in the past.

Our tribes are, a confederation of seven
With our language of Lakota, Sioux heaven
We stand proud as we remember our past
And look to our gods, to make it all last.

A silhouette on the prairie hill i see
This shape in the distance is new to me
As we sleep in the night, we hear guns and blows
We arise from our camp, to look for the noise
We creep on the prairie to their surprise
Under the moon, where the land would flow
No longer the Buffalo.

We mount our ponies to challenge these men
What gives them this right to kill and maim
Bodies of beasts, furs cut away
Missing heads, a ghastly slay.

On reaching their camp our bows stretched
Arrows screech, hit the wretched
Watch them fall to the prarie floor
Just like the Buffalo did hours before.

Years have passed as we are moved from our lands
These poisonous men, and their poisonous glands
Bringing illness fever and strife
Ending many a Lakota life.

We reach a point in History
Which made the white man sit up and see
Their Golden Child General George Custer
And the Little Big Horn, my what a disaster.

Arapaho, Cheyenne and us Lakota too
Sliced the Blue Jackets, their Scouts too
The US Cavalry would have their glee
At the Battle Of Wounded Knee
Where Siiting Bull would finally rest
Standing Tall's story last's the test
If we Indians had the same resources
Like the silhouette on the hill
These praries we always had. would be ours still.

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Free verse | |

I See Glory

I see glory 
coming from freedom
and coming from God.
life is just our first stage,
death is when we truely live.
in the arms of God
life truely begins.

Copyright © Jesse Kaler

Details | I do not know? | |


O strike thy wisdom
and thy freedom;

While picket signs aren't weapons,
they arouse violent hymns
and bayonet dreams;
o strike!

Where authoritarian presidents,
governors and dictators
all think alike,
and strike thee common good.

O visionaries
with karma on their side,
where echoes fly like angels
and their halos shine so bright;

Where slavery's not an option
and poverty no life,
no liberty
or happiness;

Where no act of violence,
aimed at stifling true justice
ever won.

True justice
always voices it's complaints,
always finds some other means,
never ends with the moon
but starts with the sun,

Fore there's no future otherwise.

Copyright © Michael Benkhen

Details | Blank verse | |

Blood and Bullets

Inspired by the Connecticut tragedy and another minor shooting that happened in my home state

Blood and Bullets

That night we cried ourselves to sleep
For each of the little children the blood did weep
Serve upon this misery and damage
No words will excuse the savage

The vultures swoop, spread the sugar coated lies
But still the frozen child dies
Yet they still wish to remove what little safety we have
But they fail to see that will not stop the slings and arrows they have

For the media projects the fame they crave
Like wild dingos they consume what we fail to save
Serve and protect is not the duty of just some but all as a whole

And we fail
And we fail

The cameras prance around like costumed horses in a dance
All the while the mud splattered reality burns and singes the lines of damned fantasies
We are to blame, shining glitter and fame on the damned souls that should be burned
We spit acidic words of hate all the while praising them in glittering spectral lights of fame 
They do not heed the angry words, but revel in the talk of them...them..





Blood and bullets pollute the spoiled ground but no one cares for the rotten
Sadness rings through for a week but soon the victims are forgotten
But no one forgets the criminal...Infamous
He is immortalized by the fame...fame...infamous

Blood and bullets
Blood and bullets
Blood and bullets
Blood and bullets

Blood stains
Bullets jump

dead forgotten
left rotten

Monster remembered


Blood and bullets


and bullets

Copyright © Rebecca Larkin

Details | Free verse | |

No Flowers

There are no flowers there...
just flies, and dust and sun
Where a child wanders
over dirt under calloused feet
under a blazing sun
on a barren land

there are no flowers
there are no trees

where hunger is the only companion
where a pool of dirty water is a lonely playground
where life drains out and sickness plays the only game

where no birds sing...
where the only sound are tears of the innocent

where a child alone, lays down
where there are no flowers
only thorns
for his grave

Submitted for "A Piece of Bread, Please" contest sponsorerd by Sami Al-khalili

Copyright © Carrie Richards

Details | Bio | |

Anne Frank's Kaleidoscopic Life

At 13, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed
Brimming with youth and flamboyance.
With a myriad of of vying admirers, 
A family to love and to be loved back.
Her life was a blend of love,laughter and rebellion.

Then,all of a sudden,
Dragged out of the felicity of her childhood.
Stripped off her citizenship and freedom
For Anne was born a Jew--an outcast.
Suffered owing to the sanguinary Fuhrer.
The Devil, he surpassed.

To escape the bloody clutches of Hitler
Into hiding ,they went
But never did Anne let her hope perish
In the two years of lonely confinement.
Two years of struggle to cope with adults.
Two years of struggle with food and supplies
With the thrills of love and pangs of goodbyes

Hope was her strongest weapon
To combat severe isolation and oppression.
Eternal hope kept her alive.
Courageous Anne continued to strive.

Her eyes could penetrate into the deeper meanings of life.
The pulchritude of relationships
The sublimity of nature
The plenitude of being
Life's purpose and importance

Alas! Betrayed by a close friend
Resulted in Anne Frank's tragic end.
The blood red hue of autumnal leaves
Stained the Earth , as the nature grieved.
- Angom Amy (15)

Copyright © Amy Angom

Details | Ballad | |

Martyr for the Unorthodox word

If I had over 10,000 dreams You'd be the only thing my mind could see Judgment couldn't be real Succumbing to the fear of this cold life Find a way to break through The self-destruction of wordly delusions Don't tell me I've lived so long in a lovely illusion Break me down until we find a Nirvanic state Then bring me a savior from transgressions An atoning sacrifice Send down to me a messenger for me to submit to Bring me the truth to break through The delusion Bring me the messenger to explain it all And let me leave behind Sorrow's caressing the earth The caliphate stole my heart Without a will to fight But I have the Means to be free I'll try to go with the word I believe But so many stones to be thrown Stakes to burn, limbs to break Faces to hate, scorns to taste Will I have the will to die Despite all of the tears no one will cry Sorrow's caressing the earth The caliphate stole my heart Broke my will Safetefied my soul Martyr for the Unorthodox word Sorrow's caressing the earth The caliphate stole my heart Without a will to fight But I have the Means to be free I'll try to go with the word I believe But so many stones to be thrown Stakes to burn, limbs to break Faces to hate, scorns to taste Will I have the will to die Despite all of the tears no one will cry Sorrow's caressing the earth The caliphate stole my heart Broke my will Safetefied my soul Martyr for the Unorthodox word

Copyright © Wyatt Loethen

Details | Ballade | |

Silver Thumb

She’s  the girl, the girl with the tender touch
A spider's touch
Such a cold thumb
Beckons you to enter her web of sin
But don't go in

colorful  words she will pour in your ear
But her  lies can't disguise what you fear
For a silver man knows when she's kissed him
It's the kiss of death from

Miss Silver Thumb
handsome  man beware of her heart of silver
This heart is cold

Silver words she will pour in your ear
But her lies can't disguise what you fear
For a silver man knows when she's kissed him
It's the kiss of death from

Miss Silver Thumb
handsome man  beware of her  heart of silver
her  heart is cold

She loves only silver
Only silver
She loves silver
She loves only silver
Only silver
She loves Silver

Copyright © John Long

Details | I do not know? | |







Copyright © sharmin begum

Details | Rhyme | |

Wars of Difference and Different Wars

Dream on man
War is constant
It has gone beyond
Catholic or Protestant

Religious wars
From our short lived past
Will never dilute
As long as we last

In this modern world
We fight for different reasons
What ever the excuse
And in any season

We fight over land
Imaginary WMD
Even over soccer
How the hell can that be

We now fight over oil
In a camouflaged war
Taking innocents with us
In public deplore

Guerrilla, assault
Bombing with precision 
We vote them in
As they twist their decisions

Dream on man
War has changed
Greed has taken over
From the pasts deranged

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Free verse | |

The Evoultion of Learning (Part Two)

As long as various people run various nations
There will forever be war
What the world needs is one leader
A common man who believes in the working class
As well as the Lord
Instead of one Nation under God
Lets make it one World under God
And just let each individual decide what he or she wishes to call that God
So I here by nominate our dear friend Vince Suzadail Jr.
The first candidate of the new world order 
He seems to have the best Political views I’ve heard
And I think he alone could do a much better job
Than all the leaders of all the nations are doing
At least I’m certain he couldn’t do any worse
And that way all the super intelligent people devising ways 
Of destroying our world
Could find something more constructive to spend their time on
Like raising a crop or milking a cow
Saving a child or helping elderly with their needs 
There are plenty of folk who need a hand
Lets all start offering them ours instead of cutting theirs off
I’m just a simple man
My actual world is very small
My family, friends and neighbors
I love you all and hope you know I’ll do anything for you I can
There is no malevolence left in me
I know how to make and use a shank, zip gun or small explosive
But I’ve learned not to
For I’ve learned to think with my heart and soul
They do a much better job than my mind
I just wish the great minds of the world
Were smart enough 
To figure out what I have
And learn to love with all of their hearts

Copyright © Michael Jordan

Details | I do not know? | |

Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom

(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

Details | Free verse | |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’

Copyright © Jacob Reinhardt

Details | Sonnet | |


        February 13, 1945
Pathfinders lit the night to show the way
for bombardiers too hungry for the word;
as Dresden's dark was made as light as day,
all hearts were stopped before the blasts were heard;

and as the din was heard by all their ears
the sound it made was not reality
but far removed from all the hopes and fears
and what they thought would never come to be.

They loved the Fuhrer--sin enough for all
to die the fiery death of sweet revenge
brought on by those who had enough of gall
to drop their loads in wartimes heated binge!

       And when the fire consumed all that it could
        the winter of their lives was understood.

Copyright © Vee Bdosa

Details | Rhyme | |

Smoking From the ones left behind


To all you smokers out there.

I’m not going to say, give up, I wouldn’t dare,

If you want to smoke, it’s up to you,

But I don’t want to smoke your smoke too,

So many lives it takes away.

It really is a high price to pay,

Especially for the ones left behind,

The ones you love, so very kind.

They are the ones left with there hearts broken,

So many things left unspoken.

They are the ones, that have to nurse you night and day,

They are the ones, who sit and pray,

They are the ones left with the legacy of what you’ve done,

When you can’t breath, because of your lung,

They to would like a voice,

They to would like a choice.

Copyright © pat dring

Details | Epitaph | |

John F Kennedy

John F. Kennedy 1917-1963 The great 35th president of US It wasn't really a success He tried to stop the missile bases There were lot of angry faces When there was about to be a war Peace was what he asked for Texas was the place he was shot Later, the criminal was caught He didn't survive the pain His people cried like the rain

Copyright © Heeju Kim

Details | I do not know? | |

All Lives Matter

Fear is what they clothe them in.
Fear of losing their life because of one mistake.
Fear of losing their life because an officer is having 
a bad day.

Some say it's not racism;
"It's police brutality."
Whatever you call it, I can't 
help but ask "where is humanity?"

Mothers weeping because they're losing their sons.
Teaching them to fight back with silence
but that is no weapon compared to a gun.

Six feet under, leaving families to fight for justice
over their lives.
Societies getting tired of it all-
starting riots and constructing strikes.

How many more time will history repeat itself?
Or are we still writing [his]tory , using coverups
as help?

All lives matter despite of their race.
All lives matter despite their mistakes.

In times such as these justice will demand to be served.
No matter how chaotic, crazy, or obscured.

Life is a gift, one that we should all treasure.
Because all lives matter and we need to protect them;
no matter the measure.

Copyright © Amber Binford

Details | Sonnet | |

A warm jungle

Through the warm jungle you can hear every cry.
Crackling gunfire trickles in the echoes; 
Why this place fell and crumbled, no one knows why.
There they all fall in place like a domino.

Welcome to the jungle, filled with death and ill. 
A jungle of fear, a few dare to challenge. 
A smoke, a radio, anything to kill;
At times, there were fires that went unchallenged. 

The smell of sulfur roams through this jungle air.
A surplus supply of shell rounds in the jeep. 
Bugs, trash, dirty clothes, all I see everywhere.
The monumental hill is too big and steep. 

Men were lost, but never forgotten prayers.
Some make it home; some make there way up the stairs.

Copyright © Trent Turney

Details | Haiku | |

I turn off my TV

I sit on my chair and travel the world
I turn off my TV 
And cry