Where gladiators fought for life,
we meet to fight for love
The constellations in the Roman night sky,
celestial spectators, bathe the Colosseum
in the white blood of light
The night is throbbing with the heat of our battle,
our cries, more passionate than any that have gone before
A short while earlier
A well paid bribe found us in the remains of the Ludus Magnus,
the remains of the old Gladiator School in Rome
where lies buried
a hidden entrance to an underground tunnel
You pull me with you into dark underground world of legend
By light of a flickering torch,
we travel into the entrails of the behemoth,
coming in time upon the holding rooms
My breath catches
I hear the sounds of man and beast
carrying through the thin layers of time:
Slaves, criminals, debtors, all awaiting their fate…
Animals pawing, grunting, starved for food
Dying to kill to stave the gnawing pain
Waiting to be lifted up into the arena
Waiting to fight
Waiting to live or die
We break into the hypogeum
The crispness of the night air stings us
The vastness of it all paralyzes all thought
Rome comes ALIVE
The resurrection of history enflames us,
and as we mount those final stairs up to the arena,
I feel your excitement blazing through me
Your grasp is almost painful in jubilee
“We are here…HERE!” Your voice is laced with the sacred.
Between those famed arches…XIX and XX
You and I all and 50,000 ghost spectators
Here at the East Entrance
The Gate of Life Looms above us
True gladiators passed through these very gates
Here the applause coursed through their veins
And thundered to the captives below…
Here I stand
Quivering with the knowledge of all this night means to me
That thunder reverberates through MY body
I can hardly breathe
Your eyes are looking up at tiered levels
while mine look ahead
There is the walkway connecting the east to west
At the far side is the Libitinarian, the Gate of Death,
through which dead gladiators were dragged,
their bodies dumped in the Spoliarium
to be stripped of clothes and armor
Life and death
Here, they converged
Here, they fought
On this night
I will strip myself of my clothing and armor
I will let down my defenses
and give in to your onslaught of passion
Here… I will die to all but your eyes
I walk, quietly, with purpose
Here….in this place...
my virgin blood will be spilt
Halfway between life and death, I stop
I turn towards you
My voice reaches you on the night wind
“Come to me!”
I see you move towards me
My mighty gladiator
You who have fought my demons
You who have slain my nightmares
You who have held in check
A savage desire for possession
As you stand before me
I wonder if you know
Tonight is the night
You will plunder and ravage
to your heart's delight
your just reward
You find a place to keep the torch upright
You see the blanket I’ve spread on the ground
I answer the question in your eyes
With the curve of my lips
I steady my hands as they work to undress me
I feel my body burn in the warmth of your presence
Your eyes undress me faster than my hands can,
and yet... you are....immovable
You stand transfixed
You wait until my only covering
Is my flowing hair
"Make love to me
Here, now...be my gladiator
Come...claim your prize."
I reach out my hand to you
and in a moment
before my next intake of breath
you've come to life and crush me in your arms
Your mouth claims mine
like never before
your tongue explores
it takes what it will
You pull me in to you
Your hand in my hair,
my breath is raptured by your sheer strength
Your mouth travels along my neck
Hungry….like a famished animal finally set free to feast
You devour as you reach my cleavage
I lean back to let you savor my breasts
For the first time
You’re down on your knees
your tongue encircling my navel
going round and round and dipping inside
This prophetic dance of what is to come
washes over me
as you lower me to the ground
In a moment, I’m looking at the stars
The two brightest ones being your eyes
You are above me
You are everywhere
Kissing tasting touching feeling pleasing
Finding my voice, I pant...
I’m gasping with the effort
of all I need to say...
of the weight of feelings...
raging within me
"Don't...hold back anymore
Your hands reach for mine and pin them down
My breasts heave, my body rocks
as I feel you plunging into the moistness
that your very presence always creates in me
But never...to this luxuriant degree
Pain mixes with pleasure again and again
As I hear your grunt and groan
Your ecstasy comes in manish moan
And I close my eyes to the Roman night sky
To the world
I am reborn in you
I hear your victory cry
And feel your jubilant release inside
They fought for life
We fought for love
My fingers run through your hair
Your head is pillowed on my breast
My heart beat a reminder
Of what you have won
A gladiator’s reward...
in the arms
of the woman
For Justin Bordner’s Contest
Make Love to Me in that Ancient Place
November 16, 2014
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014
The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark
The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark.
Copyright © John Paluszek | Year Posted 2013
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 | Year Posted 2012
True beauty bliss...
Exports with "JAH LOVE",
SO Break-Out the tanning-oil
and beach towel kick-off
your shoes, let your
Hair down N' hang- loose...
Take A swim to refresh
Your mind and feel relaxed
Sand tickling your toes.
Peacefully and Enjoy Life:
For "JAMAICA ISLANDS IS;
HERE TO STAY...." WE ARE
ALL ONE BIG FAM AT JAMAICA
SWEET N' SOUR= CARMA
A Tribute to a great poet n' writer:
RICHARD PALMER THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT
SOUP " FAM" TO THE END....
Entered in contest Letting your hair down
Sponsored by: Yasmin Khan
Copyright © Carma Reed | Year Posted 2012
Where regal forts lie dormant now,
Once Maedbh beheld the Sacred Cow,
At Cruachan of the fifty mounds,
From Uaigh na gCat came Faery sounds,
A vision, behold, Róisín Dubh,
Symphony of my stolen love,
Never before a sight so fair,
Like Adams ale flowed burning hair,
'Come now young seeker, take my hand,
And come with me to Faery land'
And then she hummed her Faery tune,
Invoking ages of the moon,
'For who but you may understand,
The grieving whispers of this land?'
Blessed am I, behold this sight,
The Sídhe summon me tonight,
'And who but you may come to know,
The seraphic language of the crow?'
'Come now young seeker, from the cold,
And know not sickness, death nor old'
Then louder grew her Faery tune,
And slowly I began to swoon,
'You once were children of the Sun,
Where heroes dwelt there now are none'
'Deepest silence, they must endure,
But not for you whose soul is pure'
'The time will be upon us soon,
To sing the chorus of the moon'
At Cruachan of the fifty mounds,
From Uaigh na gCat came Faery sounds,
Boldly now I took her hand,
And off we went to Faery land
Copyright © Eochaidh O' Conghaile | Year Posted 2011
I shall live and die
By my own accord
Only my God may judge me
To him I've proved my worth
I am still here fighting
It matters not what for
On my ship of righteousness
Headed for waters unexplored
The clear night sky will darken
And the clouds seem ominous
I take heed to the sure signs
From them I won't digress
They are in the way of my dreams
And hopes that fill my sails
Like the wind from my heaven
Keeps my skin tough as nails
Evil comes to tempt me
I am not immune
Sometimes I play the hero
Other times I'm just a fool
Either way the choice is mine
I make it with my free will
For that's the gift he gave me
And for what I fight for still
The government is coming
To bring a chaos they call order
The line has been drawn
Between two sides there is a border
I feel myself being torn
To choose a fate in stone
Let this be a lesson
Why I wander on my own
Minds can be controlled
I see it every day
The weak wills fall like dominos
That lie littering my way
An obstacle before me
I iron will it to the end
And when the devil comes
to dance with me
I have already started to transcend
into everything around
I am the universal man
my true form I shall disguise
I am hiding it from this great Satan
they say will come for my demise
I know he will find me
maybe he already has
in a long gone nightmare
that my soul he stole at last
if I remember correctly
I can't say I recall
ever escaping his grip
or did it ever touch me
Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2012
Waves crash the rocks in ecstasy
as I pass the archway
to the sea.
Onwards to the village,
the aroma of coffee brewing,
as a power of teens gather, texting.
I venture down
a chestnut lined road
under a canopy
of Copper Beech
where bright shafts of sun
illuminate a lane of lavender
a sea of perfume
wafts the air.
Climbing an incline,
hills in view,
the distant sobbing
of water sounds
a trickling brook emerges
ambling through magenta heather
and thorny gorse.
I reach a stile,
entrance to the woods
where a carpet
of frosted red cyclamen
bleeds down to a deep dark glen.
A chicory lake lies there, frozen
as a mist uncurls between reeds.
The granite hills,
soft with snow,
luminous against a whale grey sky.
A copse of pine trees
surround a curving river
where trout pout, bubbling.
At the fold of day,
The pale sun sinks the horizon
as stars tremble
into a velvet night
Copyright © Eiken Laan | Year Posted 2010
generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them
Copyright © Green Trees | Year Posted 2012
To be in a young America ~
visions of a ship upcoming statue of Liberty
the young lad holding tightly to his Mothers leg
in all excitement of a new Land to call their own
celebrations of apple pie and fireworks on the 4th of July
thoughts of the old Hollywood on screen
films without 3-D costing less then a dollar
Greta , Monroe , Betty Davis eyes tantalizing blue glare
The Wizard of Oz or books written by Steinbach, Capote, Mark Twain
exciting new visions of creating new concepts
before Capitalism bought all little ones to bigger
songs came from the hills of Virginia to the black Mountains
surfacing in Tennessee for all to hear and wish to see
The day when one travelled by car on the road travelled
every town a story told , learning history we once shed blood
American Indian tears to the British man whom choose freedom of taxes
Boston held a tea party , now wishing they threw out marmite instead
The day when we knew our neighbors and bought homes with a paystub
Everyone had a chance to make their own with pride , even through wars
When Martin Luther King stood proudly as did President Lincoln for Freedom
How many streets have been named after the man whom had a dream ?
When milk was delivered on doorsteps in Glass bottles
Babies wanting the very first of the top being cream
leaving doors open , watching news with your family at 6pm
cartoons were shut down and it was now grown up time
Cereal being a cheap snack for after school
school supplies costing twenty dollars
Grandma school clothes shopping for fifty
before the internet , cell phones , and text for hello ~
2 week Vacations not afraid to put up Camp
Christmas sold in December with the sentiment of Love not money
a day when if one were sick , you could actually get penicillin without question
The Doctor treated everything calling it General Practice no fear of Malpractice
Never forgetting our Motor city
Old Ford Trucks Chevrolets and Dodge
The city that brought Ottis Reding and Marvin Gaye
What happened to us ? Where did America Go ?
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
From the Gardens of Babylon,
to the walkways of Palestina,
to the grand temples of Jerusalism,
to the sandy beaches of Syria and Cyprus.
Went my Persian Queen riding,
upon her golden, firery chariot.
Her black hair, like silk long and flowing.
Her royal robes white and purple, bare and pure.
Her sword by her side, ready to strike.
Her spear fastened, ready to stab the dreeded heart
of the Fire Dragon.
On the firery chariot, riding with her armies,
Went my Perisan Queen.
O, how my arimes fight your armies,
in the midst of night fall, under a full moon.
Let us stop this foolish fighting.
And have fellow brother, love fellow brother.
And so we can fall in love forever.
And don't act like you don't show love for me.
I see you in the dawns, standing upon the sand covered battlefields.
Standing proud behind your armies.
With your black hair flowing.
You almost making me want not to fight the battle of the Day,
for if you were killed, what victory would that be then?
You pull your armies back at the last minute, before I am slayed
by your fellow brother in arms.
You retreat your arimes back over the hills, not in fear of losing the day,
but in fear of losing me.
You and your armies had plenty of chances to kill me, yet you do not.
My Persian Queen, O come now.
Come down from your firery chariot
and into my restless arms.
I know you are tired
and wanting to sleep.
Listen to the nightingale
sing her love song.
Drinking the sweet necture,
from the gardens, in your vase Persian Empire.
Come now, and kiss me,
Hold me, let us ride,
far from the simple minds of the Old World
and fall in love in a New.
My Persian Queen
O how I love you so much.
I cannot bare to see you in a life you don't want to live.
Come let I, your Knight in shinning armour liberate you.
Take you by the hand, run through the great bazzare in Old Istanbul
running away from the Janissaries of your father's Imperial armies.
Let us leave this place of hate and sorrow.
To start our lives a new.
My Persian Queen,
Now dressed in silk lace,
with golden jewlery hanging
from your beautiful and tender neck.
Along with the silver pattened belt around your harmonial waist.
It is time for you, to come with me.
No more shall we act like we dispise one another.
As Romeo and Juliet's love failed,
shall our love take course, and we shall love
till the oceans swallow the earth, the mountains crumble,
and the Sun engulf the sweet Earth.
And on and on shall our love go on,
My adorable and lovely Persian Queen.
Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013
These times are near their totality
It is not because of man’s impudence
It is not of man’s desire for change
It is just time, and time…
For the will of time’s maker
A time for newness
An epoch for a re-Earth
Time for reconciliation
An era of restoration of Eden
Time for oneness of purpose
Time for a new world system
And a new social order
A Time according to His promise
And In this Time,
Uprightness is to reside
Mourning dew’s teardrops will dry
Floras shattered spines will straighten
Our mental tempests will dissipate
The arid regions of our hearts will bloom
I hope to see you there...
Copyright © Mark Pringle | Year Posted 2006
The snow rests red and heavy
through the valley and the glen,
with MacDonald honor lingering on
in spite of Campbell sin.
Give us crimson wool
to weave a plaiden memory
of the massacre at Glencoe
and deeds of treachery.
Let the stigma of a traitor
forever mark their name
as long as Scotland bears the scar
so recalled shall be their shame.
Copyright © Thvia Shetley | Year Posted 2010
This abandoned place sits in silence
yet the memories linger on,
as they whisper of past innocent love
that long ago was destroyed.
Up and down and sideways
we would sit for hours in such ease,
sharing dreams from deep within
as trust was forged with such strong promise.
So many days of anticipation I remember
as I return in my quest to face the pain,
that has haunted me since I waited that day
and my hopes of our future were surrendered.
But it seems that I must relinquish
that faith I held for so long,
I desperately wish to hear your spirit
speak to me about your abrupt disappearance.
I still hear the laughter and feel the comfort
of times I thought would never end,
but all I hear now is that so soft squeak
as our abiding friendship floats away upon the breeze.
And as we shared our secrets
enveloped within this world for two,
I feel the tears roll slowly
for the promise that never ensued.
The threads of my life's tapestry
began with parts of you
and as it starts to unravel
I search for answers from the past.
But this place sits strangely silent
for the memories come from me,
there's not a wisp of you here anymore
and a part of me now withers.
I sit upon the sands of time
as the vitality of the tides
mesmerisingly wash and play with my feet,
teasing me gently into thoughts
of a realm that for the most part
has laid dormant.
But I feel a nudging
that time and space are allowing me
Do I wallow in retrospection
and will that help me assume
my true identity?
Clear the past of the nonsensical and pointless,
a rubbish yard that has clouded the inner light for too long.
Let the waves of soft rebuke
be my conduit to a revival and a merging, finally,
of mind, body and spirit.
Rip out the dark pages
or the light will never infiltrate.
Contest: SKAT's Epic
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015
Many take her for granted this beauty seen in our skies
Isn't she such a wonder for us she'll never despise
She glows when we are weakened by life's travesties
No matter our human gloom, she's there for us to see
Take a look back to her past, view her strife her life
Being battered by her neighbours, leaving her rife
Look to the scars she bears, whom does she declare
She never ever will, but do we humans really care
History has shown, to her out reach we shall travel
Into her out there black, shall we ever ever unravel
It'll take some years, but eventually we will find
I only hope and pray, that this beauty isn't undermined
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2015
Green bark a prism creates,
Feel the pull of earth, you must.
Rotates, a slime of endless hates,
Can hold me not, this world’s crust.
Friendship’s ties, isolation Deflates,
Succumbs, my spaceship, to bitter rust.
Mist, my soul forever permeates,
Lift-off, booms the rocket’s thrust.
My spirit when light returns, elates,
Swamps swell, swallowed hope’s swirling dust.
Trapped, I am, until student from fate
Arrives to learn; Cloud City or bust.
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
Now when King Josiah came to the throne
he was no more than eight years old.
But little Josiah had much to do
as hearts in his kingdom waxed cold.
For the peoples' hearts had turned from God
with idols in the land you see.
Yet Josiah knew this was not right
but clearly wrong as wrong could be.
So as he came to his sixteenth year,
Josiah did that which was right.
He tore down the idols throughout the land
and found favor within God's sight.
Now God's great house had become run down
but Josiah had it in mind to restore,
to turn the people's hearts back to God
and worship Him as did their fathers before.
Hidden within the temple was God's word,
for so long had it's knowledge been thought lost.
As Josiah heard the words which were read,
he realized what God's people had lost.
So Josiah read the words of the Law
to people gathered from across the land.
They set their hearts to do that which was right
and be humbled under Gods' mighty hand.
Now, there was nowhere a king like Josiah
nor has there ever been to this day.
Let your heart be toward God like Josiahs'
and He will keep you in all your ways.
2 Kings 23:25
And like unto him was there no king before him,
that turned to the Lord with all his heart and
with all his soul, and with all his might,
according to all the Law of Moses;
neither after him arose there any like him.
Copyright © Douglas Ace | Year Posted 2009
< the sleeping giant once again has been awoke
to the sounds of great thunder and billows of smoke
what has happened his imperial's majesty's sleep
out from the depts of hell a great wavetrain has creeped
tainting soil where once land had been so enriched
brandishing homes businesses left them in a ditch
twisted metals dancing in swirls of stenching air
recovered bodies of beloved this is so unfair
across it's great mountain range somber is now heard
unity becomes one and not forgotten word
rebuild rebuild the sleeping giant request
let our people of japan return to their nest
for there will always's be another tomorrow
where earthquakes and tsunami's will bring such sorrow
for an sleeping giant all nestled in his bed
and his people dressed in five elements of thread
Tribute To Japan
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2011
Where Lud gave wing, Blessed Bran doth sing
true oracle the visions bring,
from midnight’s land, bear burning brand
the Queens of old, gift Druid hand.
Shadow depth seek, sharp sable beak,
pierce psyche veils when prophets speak,
messenger calls through ancient halls
where Raven reigns the Tower walls.
Fey healer fly, the night-world sky
initiate Ovates nigh,
beckoning deep, iconic keep,
hark Raven calls to dreamless sleep.
Where Lud gave wing Blessed Bran doth sing
true oracle the visions bring,
from midnight’s land, bear burning brand
the Queens of old gift Druid hand,
the Queens of old gift Druid hand.
Copyright © Krow Fischer | Year Posted 2010
I do not know?
We are Tausug Nation
Free from the enemies
Stood not to get oppressed
Our Nation ruled
Of the country’s independence
Never conquered from then
We shall develop our land
Our country, nation is known
Home of courageous person
Bound only in one faith
Never care of the death
Tumantangis, Dahu peaks of our land
To Bagsak, Sinumaan
And to all the mountains here
Only one God is aimed
Zamboanga, Basilan, North Borneo, Palawan
Centre is in Sulu land
Ruled by the Sultan
From the early point of time
Our nation is united
In the name of faith is complete
Only God is firm
Determined not to get conquered
Land of the pearl garden
Sulu Sea in the world is famous
From the South and North
And East and West
Blood of Martyrs flowed in the vein of the Sug Nation
Fought to defend
Flag rose like Vinta strip
Eternal pledge appeared
Copyright © Neldy Jolo | Year Posted 2009
As dawn peers over the edge of the sky,
In a space of the lonely kopjes and cacti.
Where God roamed to the edge of a scorched wilderness,
and stared into the vast land of nothingness.
HERE, STANDS A PLACE ARID AND BONE DRY
WHERE ROOT AND SHOOT SHRIVEL AND DIE.
HERE IS WHERE HE FORMED ROCKY OUTCROPS AND SANDY STRANDS
TULI IS IT’S NAME.
IN THIS FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE, WHERE WIND ROLES A GUST
FORMATION OF BOULDERS, PEBBLES, AND DUST.
The springs of vitality forced from the ground below
Sweet honey dew, taste of life, transforms this dusty bowl
Where quenched thirsts were satisfied,
Hunger for food became starvation and slowly crippled the dreary
Only the toughest would survive, no room for the weary
As time pasted, it forgot this flat open bush
where grass and shrub became razor sharp and prickly scrub.
harsh and foreboding.
The Shashe river snaking through the sandy ground
with dust and rubble on the fortress mound
So men came to conquer and forge his own path,
What madness is this, why was he so daft.
But, when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object
History is written.
Wheels of progress move steadily forward
Rocks being used to build roads, bridges, houses, and prisons
So hard, tough, and cold these objects are to house the idea of future dreams and missions.
The stubborn will to settle,
made peoples focus rock solid.
But as time marches out and onward,
the memories and sentiments pasted through like a gentle breeze.
All that is left is the forgotten memories, graves, and relics of buildings old,
Hunters, Riders, and Voortrekkers cry out from the dust and sand,
that fortress of Pioneers, Tuli.
Copyright © Tim Marks | Year Posted 2012
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Copyright © Courtney Courtney | Year Posted 2012
7/7 London terror attack 2005
7/7 London terror
On the local bus and heading west,
Going into London town.
There's something happened ahead,
Coz' the police are all around.
There are sirens in the distance,
There is panic in the air.
I am early for my interview,
So I do not need to care.
Then a phone call from my brother,
And I asked, "what's all the fuss?"
His words to me were frightening,
"Get off that bloody bus".
He spoke then of the carnage,
Of the scenes of disbelief.
The blood, the smoke, the murder,
The unrequited grief.
I could not travel further,
As the news it quickly spread.
Reports of bombs and suicides,
And of countless people dead.
I walked into a betting shop,
Saw the broadcasts of the news.
Then I saw those scenes of carnage,
And those sad uncensored views.
I saw the blood, the tears,
The shock, the sobbing cries.
I asked God, "what is happening?",
As the tears filled up my eyes.
To the bastards who have killed today,
It is you we do not fear.
For every person you have killed,
There are ten more coming here.
You can bomb us in the tube trains,
On the buses, in the street.
You can hi-jack cars and aeroplanes,
For its us you won't defeat.
You can bomb us in our villages,
You can bomb Old London town.
You can bomb us in the countryside,
For you'll never bring us down................
In memory of the victims of the London bombing of 2005
Copyright © Leighton Rees | Year Posted 2012
Chip off the old block;
It runs in the family.
This all needs to stop
In our meritocracy.
Titles through ages;
A generation’s game.
Lordships by bloodline,
Some things need to change.
Birth won’t denote skill;
It keeps people out.
When money they flout.
James Caan can shove it,
And let workers in.
Nobles move over,
Let our time begin.
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
The dark continent; a place of extremes
where the sun rises early and surprises me with its intensity.
In between can be found the stuff of life at every level,
whilst beneath my feet the red soil heaves with life
as the insect microcosm dashes about its business,
before the white heat commands them into the shadows.
All around, the vegetation stands tall and proud,
as if trying to be the first to touch the sun
and birdsong fills the heavy air
perfumed by the breath of exotic spices.
How can this be the dark continent
when every sight that blesses my eyes is brighter,
bolder, painted with brushes not of my earth?
yes, the skins are intensely black, blue-black
But when the smile which adorns every beautiful face
grins – and bursts open to reveal two perfect rows of pearls
the infection is passed to the viewer
who now sees only brilliant light
as the soul is finally revealed.
These people, wearied by poverty and bowed by blind politics
nonetheless walk tall and proud
as if trying to be the first to touch the sun
standing head and shoulders above
our stiff-necked dissatisfactory lives.
If Africa is the dark continent
then I am suddenly in love with blackness
and I fear for the dimming light
which bathes my homeland.
Copyright © Bill Lindsay | Year Posted 2015
Poem about Sudbury, Ontario, Canada
A skyline for a slag line.
A glowing melting rock.
An acid burning slag dump.
The miners on the clock!
The sunset meets the hill.
A seam of orange and fire.
Black smoke ascending from it.
The thickest form of mire.
A cauldron tipped and flowing.
A soup's heat puddle still.
The river red thin ribbons
and our love a slag dump spill.
Copyright © Trevor McLeod | Year Posted 2014
How you’ve completely lost your sanity.
Did you forget how to grow?
Every one of you was planted row by row.
Did your heavenly Father not nurture you with love?
Did He not make the rains fall from up above?
Oh where is your heart?
Who gave you your first start?
Daylight hours just wash ashore,
With simple lives from once before!
Have you forgotten your heavenly Mother?
And what about your heavenly Brother?
Where is your Godforsaken mind?
What happened to being loving and kind?
How you’ve provoked such a calamity!
® Registered: Ann Rich 2006
Copyright © Ann Rich | Year Posted 2009
Take my hand and walk with me,
ill show you side of a world that you never seen.
Ill show you where its ends meat and where gangsters meet,
this is where all the goons come out to play and steal the street.
No one goes into my hood,
we done really care for you angry mood.
Music will blare everywhere around out street,
it's always dark and you cant see anything but peoples feet.
Your eyes open up so wide and a smile appears on your face,
you tell me you love this part of my village, and your heart stands no chance.
You ask me if you can stay with me and i answer, "ill need some more protection for you,
and make it seem like i had nothing to do.
It is my hood, don't get me wrong, i protect what i love with all my heart,
even if it means to kill one of my own demons for you, and put you as the start.
You walk me out to the streets where every one is dancing to the blaring music, to give me another chance,
we walk out onto the floor and begin to move your body in a way i never seen before, than you lean to me and ask, "would you like to dance"?
Dedicated to: Esther Baleva!
PS: My one and only Angel. I Love Her!
Copyright © Roman Chebukin | Year Posted 2012
I live in a place striving for sobriety surrounded in alcohol looking for happiness trapped among our very own sadness. I hear my people’s laughs and I hear my people’s cries, but most of all I see their dreams because their dreams are my dreams because we remain not against each other today as enemies but hidden friends united through culture, language and blood. I laugh with my people and of course I cry with my people and I fight with my people but most of all I continue to dream with my people. I know who I am and where I am from to know where I been to still hope to where I am going to go. I feel darkness engulf not only myself but also almost my entire reservation’s race, no matter mixed or not because soon our culture and language will have no face without any more light to shine upon it. I know where I lived and still live to know if I will truly go where I truly want to go in life before I have my one walk with death. I know by a long shot that I am not the best but by a close hit on the reservation’s target I could be better.
I take a stand against self to stand against others to better a worsening crowd of many young lost indigenous souls waiting to be unknowingly found and waiting for something similar to what I’m about to write. I take a stand for self so that others know that we aren’t all lost and we can and will be found with the true hope of no one’s but your own. I take a stand because my brothers and sisters wont, I take a stand because now days most the people around me or within me can’t or don’t know how, I take a stand for the children who don’t have a father and mother as I once had, I take a stand for my unborn child almost here, I take a stand for courage because within me is filled with fear, I take a stand against because the alcohol and drugs within me now I just can’t stand, I take a stand for those around me who cannot stand, I take a stand for a culture dying on its knee’s trying to get back up, I take a stand for the forsaken yet to be forgiven self-stand.
I patiently wait, lying away in the darkness searching for light even though I can see the light I just don’t know how to get on thy path to the light. I am not alone, I know for a fact that I am not alone in my thoughts and feelings about life on earth here. I can see our pain, I can hear the hollers and screams, I can feel your anguish and I can smell our destruction. I walk through the reservation valley of darkness as if I am but a blind witness to our own destruction upon where many of us go unknown truly forever in depths of time, in the depths of death.
I know that I cannot give in or give up on a dream of a people’s dream where the buffalo in our young hearts and minds may roam around free and where the wolf warrior chief may rise above all odds and become thy greatest modern day warrior, the people seek him, the people crave him, the people need him, the people need someone to rise if not geographically the worldwide mentally.
Copyright © Travis Lone Hill | Year Posted 2012
The little sextant was diverse
to have position on the Earth.
While going in circles 'round the sun
and seeing all for what it's worth.
It shot through space
and saw the stars.
It passed through Heaven
paired with Mars.
It spun in groups
much like our own.
Through some not quite:
and lesser known.
In time it passed
our way again.
come home to men.
While those who watched
and wondered why,
would only say
that we're going by.
Copyright © Trevor McLeod | Year Posted 2015
Some times they say the great and mighty do fall…
And the penguin story of greatness, should be heard by all.
Polar bears are mighty and cunning with massive brute strength.
But they messed with the penguins, a mistake, I do think.
The polar bears went after the penguins and cute little chicks.
So you’ll never guess what those cute little penguins did.
Using the most courageous penguins as a target so nice.
They lured all the polar bears, for the first time, out onto the ice.
The greedy bears moved out in force for the kill.
But the penguins pushed the ice flows into the currents windmill.
So intent on dinner and full of themselves, were they that day…
That the polar bears didn’t notice the ice caught in the currents sway.
The polar bears were way out to sea, before noticing their plight.
And, by then, the penguins were safely at home tucked in for the night.
You might say, the current was a friend to the penguins that day.
For it eventually sent those polar bears to the North Pole far away.
Now the moral of this story is here to easily understand.
Brute strength is not the greatest thing to cherish; it is far greater to plan…
And, never turn your back on a penguin I say.
They’re the reason there’s no polar bears at the South Pole, to this day.
Tell Me A Story Contest
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012