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Love History Poems | Love Poems About History

These Love History poems are examples of Love poems about History. These are the best examples of Love History poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Concrete | |

It is Written in a Star

.                                                                  *
                                                                   *
                                                                   *
                                                                   I
                                                                  am
                                                                  the
                                                                 star
                                                                 that 
                                                                shone
                                                               brightly
                                                             in the East
                                                             that night
                                                            so long ago
                                                         A heavenly light
                                                     that guided wise men
                                                  to the place where He lie
                                             In a manger on a blanket of hay
              *  *  *  *  *Christ -Immanuel - a radiant child - a gift from God*  *  *  *  *
                                           His only son who died on a cross                                        
                                                 for teaching us to love and
                                                           help one another
                                                                for this is
                                                                 the only
                                                                   way
                                                                  there
                                                                    Will
                                                                    ever
                                                                     be
                                                                  peace
                                                                     on
                                                                  Earth
                                                                      *
                                                                      *
                                                                      *


Details | Epic | |

Make Love To Me In That Ancient Place

The Bedouins, bequeathed with the sacred beauty of paradise harsh,
trusted guardians of jealous gorges and gifted groves
lead me from the Wadi Musa to the humble ingress of Petra,
saying with thrill, the Jin of your Jihad awaits you White Lion,
we embrace as Brothers of Light and ancient dust,
their camels wise in soft steps
impart wide eyed, gentle blessing to me,
a shrill whisper of teasing wonderment 
whisks the sand of centuries strewn small
with a cobra's awakening whisp and hungry hiss,
evening enters the terrible terrain
glowing a cool blue dark and daring
along with it a blowing a zephyr unzips the zodiac of my ancestors,
stars of a billion years sympathize with this soul sojourn, 
alone I journey inward like a brave wish wafting
into a heart wanting to disgorge a secret need,
the smell of salt, sandstone and myrrh infiltrate
my mind with a mineral magic animating millenia of sovereign economics,
lamp light revealing the blush and rue of the the Siq's colossal rock hue,
shadows of caravan traffic bespeak exotic trade from distant industry,
narcotics from Kush, Persian rugs, spices and incense of Arabia, 
jewels and hides from India, the medicine and silk of China,
beasts and papyrus of Africa, wine, weapons and art of Rome,
slaves beautiful and strong carried from every known ethnic throng,
a river of precious merchandise replacing the might of carving waters,
at the egress of this artery's eternal enterprise
I behold with burgeoning awe the Nabataean Treasury, 
it's gladsome geometry a harmony of will, wealth and worship,
warm red cream stone become bone of a peoples' politic,
architecture for their angels and sanctuary for culture,
depository for dreams indebted to desert Deities,
I blow a kiss to the niche of Tyche, Goddess of fantastic fortune,
as I tighten my checkered turbin I hear a soft song
of Hellenic, Semitic and Arabic recipe, stringed hums with chime
and it moves me into the open, bleak basin towards the Monastary facade, 
in the black of it's errie entrance a spirit of evanescent education
escalates my enchantment as corners wake to pathways,
murals like waving reflections stream across the walls
I see Moses crack the water stone for salvation
as the Holy Arch spirals an avalanche of absolution from Earth to Heaven,
Solomon and Sheba secure a trade treaty with royal love,
I witness Jesus in the Jordan with John the Baptist
kindly laying him in the steady float of faith,
then the tragedy of John's demise
by the sour ambition of Herodias, the whore of defacto power,
I observe the affection of Joshua Ben Joseph 
with his woman of street sense as they endure trial after trial,
scenes of the Pax Romana and Judaen revolts parade 
by my eyes as terror, torture and triumph
wear masks of glory and glee,
the Essenes embarking for the Dead Sea defense,
Muslims and Crusaders found not the bounty of this land,
here remains the treasure of Pharaonic voyage,
exiting with renewed moral for love
I look to the top of Zibb Atuf
where I see the thunderbolt of Zeus Hadad and cornucopia of Atargatis
burn sweetly in the night, periwinkle smolder signals righteous passion,
I feel you, my Love, paramount in the depth of every sense I have,
turning entranced to the Roman Theater I proceed to the north east rendezvou,
you are lovely and glamorous on the stage of amplified ardor,
starbeams spotlight your coordinated curves and fertile instinct,
you begin to seduce with a dance, breathtaking, impulsive balance,
moving with the smooth heat and poise of a breath blown candle flame,
a crescent of torches beautifies your frame, crimson silk wings from you,
I stand for a moment on the outer upper rim
gazing, with great heat upsurging through every muscle,
knowing you are jubilant for me by the way you move
I descend the stairs undistracted from the language of your invitation,
your cinnamon skin skims my own as you go round and round
and the crave for your ravishing rub forces my pursuit,
I catch your tender waist as you spin into my hunting arms,
your fingertips feel so right in my hands,
we sway like romance on fire in the storm of desire,
your restive back nestled inbetween my shoulders
my obsessed lips move up your neck in search for innocent sensitivity
overtaking your naked earlobe with a hot mouth and firm pull,
your body, begging to be breeched brutely calms slowly
as I release spontaneous poetry into your ear saying...

When the moon was young
unbattered by stone and age
glowing bold upon Earth newly spun
the first man and sacred Woman
made love of flesh warmly woven
from they're erupting hearts came wild knowledge...

J.A.B.


Details | Narrative | |

Pride of the Motherland

Riding an elephant
Down the narrow trail looking triumphant
Scanning the golden landscape
Like Hannibal with enemies in flight
Sight from a lofty height
King of the jungle moving
With lioness by his side

Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro
Guides by my side with packs on their backs
Some paths steep with rocks
Boots slipping below our tired feet
Beautiful birds in unison flight
Moving with terrestrial light
Stunning sunlight summit on the peak

Praying in an Ethiopian Church
Preserved in rocks built by humans’ hands 
Never touched by conquest plans
Protected from the invaders’ footsteps
Queen of Sheba and Solomon’s nest
Touched by Arch of the Covenant
Mary, Joseph, and Jesus once slept

Eating yam, sipping palm wine, and tasting milk
Freshly squeezed by experienced hands
Taste of life in the mosaic grassland
Sustaining and soul refreshing
Cradle of humankind adorning
Invaded for its gold, riches, and human capacity
Birth of life on earth with tenacity

Respecting its living and arduous journey
Essence of life once was and is again to come
Riding a camel across the hot Sahara sand
Once wet now dried, exported gold from Mali…
Treasures from the hearts of once African empires
That which was, is, and shall forever be
Africa the birthing Motherland
We still love and respect thee!

~~~~~~~*******~~~~~~~

Seventh Place Winner
"African's Pride" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Adeleke Adeite
June 30, 2010

~~~~~~~*******~~~~~~~


Details | Free verse | |

The Fabulous Queen Of Egypt

Woke up to a new life in Egypt
I was young not more than seventeen years
Adorned with gold and precious stones
My body was in the shroud of silk and jewels in my hair
I sat on a throne as a Queen

My name was Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile
During the day I lay on the silk cushions
and dozed in the shade of palm trees
Beautiful men and women kept flitting
around me with all sorts of temptations
Fed me all sorts of fruit and cold drinks

When evening came, it was time for romance
As Queen I had many to choose
My choice was of course:
"The greatest men of Rome"
Julius Caesar and Marcus Antonius
Why choose one when I can have two?

On a long journey down the Nile with
my love Julius Caesar, I was forced to
make a choice.
But a choice one must take...and the
choice was that I gave birth to a son
and Julius Caesar was the father

My love life was not popular
my husband was killed and I 
was no longer popular
It was no longer a life of happiness and joy
No, it was war and national mouming
and I would not live anymore






18.03.2012
A-L Andresen


Details | Narrative | |

How a Blue Rose Came to be

Once upon a time, many years ago,
There was a sweet and lovely -  red, red Irish rose,
That was plucked prematurely, from the garden vine;
A budding beauty, taken in her prime.

She was laid to rest, upon the death, of a lovers dream;
Upon a chest of ebony, where lie, his would-be  Queen; 
Lowered deep into the depths, of the church yard cemetery;
Her scarlet petals, wilting in the summer breeze.

Then the earth begin to fall, like autumn leaves;
Upon  her petals, and the chest of ebony,
From above her tomb, where stood the grieving groom
Weeping , weeping,  like a willow tree.


Then the sky begin  to disappear, amid that mournful cry,
As  tears - from above, fell from that lovers eyes,
And came to rest, like dew drops on that  Irish rose, 
As she disappeared beneath the earth, there in his grief below 
                                          
                            	 ~~~~~
		
In time, he laid a stone of ivory - upon her grave;
Etched deeply  - with the promise he had made:
To love his Irish Rose - forever and a day.

                                  ~~~~~

The years and all their seasons came and went
And a million lonely tears were cried and spent
Upon her grave where everyday he kneeled and prayed
And dreamed of her until his dying day.  


		~~~~

The epigram has long since faded on the ivory stone   
That still stands alone   upon her grave
Where from the million tears of love he gave
A seemingly impossible - blue, blue rose has grown.

 
 Written:  June 18, 2010

Note:  To late for the contest,
but I thought I would post it anyway. 










Details | Rubaiyat | |

WE ARE JUST HUMAN BEINGS

                                
                              
                                   ***

                 Mans's colour is purely geographical
                  Not just the matter only biological
               For continents drifted due to a process
              People went to polar zone to live on icicle


              Thus they got white due to temperature low
            Coloured are those remained on equator below
               Got dark of heat which they did absorb
              Adaption was only solution they did follow

                Thus it's a matter of millennia ago
              Let's not fight due to our immense ego
               We are different from the fauna rest
                  Brotherhood is our ultimate logo

                       Racism or apartheid
                 It's always been a cruel deed
                      For it killed humanity
             And humanity excells caste and creed

                   The Almighty has no bias
                 He calls everyone to His dais
                  For our blood is just asame
                Ensure all stomachs full of rice

              To save the clan of homo sapiens
                Stay away from being ruffians
                 Let's dole out benevolence
            The King warned against the aliens

             "We have no fangs and no stings
            Explore the peace, spread the wings
                Stay away from retaliation
             For we are truly human beings..!!"


                          ********
Glossary:

       The King = Martin Luther King Jr.

       Aliens = common problems / issues faced by all.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Bianca of Venice

Venice, the daughter of the sea
Winding paths, waterways or cobblestones roads
Rulers of the renaissance, noblemen would be
Her navy full of conquests, her triumphs all would see

From nobility rose, a woman fair
Her life a whirlwind, with her share of despair
Banished from Venice, for daring to speak
Her desires and wit, did many a man seek

The golden rose the pope did give
As she fled to Florence, so young and deceived
Her strength in spirit and a mind so refined
Her friend Marco, the captain, with whom she dined

He parted his wisdom as best he could
He sailed victorious, for Bianca he should
His secret was safe out on the seas
Which is why he and Bianca, could never be

Her royal blood would keep her in stead
As nobility in Florence would turn their heads
Francesco indeed would commission a palazzo
For Bianca his mistress, in waiting, his queen

The Grand Duchy of Florence, all powers bestowed
A seeker of knowledge, of wisdom composed
His Austrian wife, alone, cold and barren
Could not compete, with his love yet to be

They danced, they confided, in each they held
A love of intellect, beauty and lust to be feld
And sadly, one day, the enemies of Venice
Plotted and schemed to bring about a demise

The poison was swift, and an era did end
In a villa in Florence, Francesco was dead
Bianca his love, her beauty unblemished
Fell by his side, and whispered to thee

My dear, my love, it was meant to be

Bianca Cappello (1548 – 17 October 1587)

Note: OK OK I invented 1 new word, that's what poets do


Details | Rhyme | |

Half-Lit Moon

Haze up in the heavens encircles this orb.
Half-dark, half-light, shines from above.
Twinkles of light appear to absorb.
Fractions of darkness within lighted glove,

Speaking to lovers held in each other’s arms.
Answering questions of science to some,
Floating around spreading blessed charms,
Listening close at times, hearing a hum.

Lovers for centuries, graciously, captured by,
Sweet serenity and magical mystery,
Others entranced with secrets, which fly.
From words written and spoken in history.

Satellite, orb, lady, they are all the same.
Mythical goddesses, gripped in flame.
These tales have spread so many games.
This object seen most nights has no shame.


Details | Couplet | |

To All Of You

There are times we are left to cope
With situations that drain our hope

Leaving us full of despair
At how some people just don't care

About the evil that they do
To good people like all of you

We are left to somehow face
That in mankind there is disgrace

And those of us left alive
Must find away to survive

As you pick up the pieces of your life
Without your mother, father, husband or wife

And some of you God forbid
Without the love of your kids

We must band together with a brotherhood
Show that in this world there is some good

Because we are together in this deal
We try to help each other heal

We seek in each other good advice
And offer each other sacrifice

We hold each other in prayer and song
As we continue to re-build the wrong

Because what else in the world can we do
Except let the light of good shine through

The evil darkness and despair
Of a catastrophic lack of care

We want you to know you are not alone
Think of America as a giant cone

And all of us are funneling through
Our prayers and hopes to all of you


Posted for Nathan's 9-11 contest


Details | Free verse | |

Freedom

This disconnected intellect of society in retrospect
Is nothing but a retro spectrum of colors.
Gold chains and disco lights,
Black, white, and grey faces, red Adidas stripes with no laces
Cardboard boxes unfolded on concrete streets
Where the founding fathers of modern culture would meet
And write our Constitution by moving their feet.
With a spectacular repertoire of flashy moves
And a deep reservoir of verbs that mingled with words in the mind’s river
That flowed from the banks of lips as the first freestyle
When style was really free.
Not compromised, chopped up, glamorized, marketed, processed, pasteurized 
and then subliminally delivered as a shrink-wrapped, shiny medium of bad ideas.
Back when people actually had ideas,
Not just the regurgitation of pre-chewed vomit music.
The DJs cooked up beats in their basements
Just crack for the bass-heads
Denied treble ‘cause trouble was all they were faced with.
There was music laced with dope, and dope was good.
The evolution.
Darwinism of hip-hop.
You know what I mean?
Of course not ‘cause these young bucks would rather spend fifteen dollars on 50 
Cent
Then spend fifty cents on a education.
Flagrant, our testimonial to a religion that’s pagan
We pray to money, pray to greed, pray to fame, pray to succeed
And denounce life when we pray that our bullet hits its target.
The Boogie Oogie became the Boogaloo
And the Electric Slide met the electric chair.

Time is money.
Money is life.
Life is a game.
I invest Monopoly money in the New World Clock Exchange
To collect interest in fate and become disinterested in buying my life back.
My soul is currency, currently spent on reverting from the current state.
Back to when sex was more taboo than a smile
Back to when freedom didn’t equal censorship
Back to when love for family didn’t negate the fact that times change.
Back to when the Big Hand spun backwards two seconds too late.
And minutes were miniscule and minute, hip-hop was rediculed
Not because it was demeaning, but because it represented Revolution.
An occurrence that has come and gone with the wind.
My name is Hip-Hop O’Hara and I am in love with Civility Wilkes.
Reverend Run preached gospel, now he rolls in his grave
If musical revelation is impossible, than who will be saved?
The essence in lyrics is kept underground in a cage.
Struggling to survive like illiterate slaves.
Reaching for freedom, which lies on the next page.
Free the music.


Details | I do not know? | |

Victim

I never wanted it to be this way, I never wanted to feel the pain. Bruises all over me. 
Invisible but I can see them.

You hurt me everywhere. My heart is shattered and the blood has frozen. But I won't be 
your victim.

Stare at me like this all you want. Try and hurt me with your words just as long as you 
don't use fists.

I don't ever want to be your victim. I refuse to be one of those few girls who end up 
losing their whole world.

Love isn't supposed to hurt, but maybe I was just naive because the moment I loved you my 
heart never stopped bleeding. 

I won't be your victim, I won't run away. If you have something to say I won't avoid it. 
I'm not scared I can take whatever you try to throw.

Don't hold back I promise you I will not cry. The moon is shining just like all the 
diamonds that you called pretend love I can't even imagine why I fell so hard.

It's never clear until the glass of water is gone. But now that you've gulped me to the 
last I want you to know I won't be your victim.

I kissed vulnerability goodbye the very last time I cried over you and I won't be your 
victim your not even worth it.

If you feel like you must shove a door in my butt but don't make me afraid because I 
don't want to be I don't want to be your victim. 

Let go of my hand so I can peacefully drive away if you want me to I can drive over you 
as well. But don't make it seem like i'm causing you pain because it's obvious to see 
that I've been a victim and it's a shame.

But I don't want to be it anymore then you so just let me go and I won't have to run. I 
promised you forever I laugh at this now you were never eternity love in my mind.

 I kept counting until the madness in ourselves would corrupt. Tears flash down my eyes 
as I speed down the lanes. Two bottles of Gin and I think i'm going insane.

It wasn't until I crashed into a tree that I realized I was never your victim I was 
merely your suicide mission. 


Details | I do not know? | |

Nasty girl

   There you go again doing things that you are not suppose to be in and then you look at 
me like oh i'm so sweet if you only knew I can be a freak without showing it. Here they 
go listening to the rumors but i'm your friend so in the end I know that they are true. 
How could you do that with him and her and they were on the ground you were pretending to 
pick up gum? You need to be safe, making out with strangers girl I aint no saint but god 
what are you doing? I don't want to see you years from now telling me you got aids, I 
worry about you and I feel like your special so I even wrote about you come on look how 
much you mean to me. You like him I get it but how many other guys have you liked in the 
past. He's your only, he's a phony make sure he's not just in it for the prize because 
girl you never know some guys are. It's the truth and you need to listen, I don't mean to 
sound bossy but soon enough your name is going to be posted on all the bathrooms walls. 
Telling things that you haven't even done yet. But you will front about it, Lie again. 
Telling everyone it's happened how do we know what's real or fake. I love your 
personality I wish I could steal it, Your loud, and flirty, daring and smart girl you got 
too much heart to be showing it to everyone who wants a sip. this is for all the nasty 
girls out there who think I don't know what i'm saying just ask anyone of them who are 
dead now or are on the streets prostitiuting. Don't be afraid to be a freak it's healthy 
but sometimes it's better when it's secret closet freaks have more fun.


Details | Ballad | |

Running Tide

Knee deep in surf
The water clung to her
Changing silk gown
To wrinkled shiny  skin
Never had I envied ocean water so
But then t'was I who'd let her go
Drowning in green eyes
With fear of clinging ties
Holding me back


Details | Verse | |

Temujin

Temujin

The purple Royal banners wave above his armor's steel;
the chieftain carries his Mongolian, relentless wit,
young Genghis Khan, the Temujin, applies his sovereign zeal,
to merge the lands beneath his will, the warlords to befit.

Consorted by young Börte of the Onggirat kin tribe,
the martial Temujin receives high honors by the clans;
a skillful warrior invades the lands while his young bride,
awaits; for no one else predestined is to be her man.

The chieftain slaughters hence his passage through the western soils
invincible his tactics are, and triumphs ascertain,
advance his rule, expand his territorial rights and spoils,
while Börte, granting loyalty, in virtue she ordains.

How valued is the flight of eagles that conduct above,
depict trajectories, and soar to vanish where the Gods
embrace the sadness of unanswered prayers and bridal love,
the Royal maid in loneliness, defends against all odds?

So priceless have become their plumes upon the Mongol plains,
where the persistent Northern steppe cold winds enfold the ghosts
and Princess Börte counts her solitude, stands tall and reigns,
believing that her Temujin bestows his kind riposte!

" Support him Goddess of the moon when grooming Charon thuds
and sends the clanging of the steel, commanding thus, the souls,
to travel the descending route of coursing loveless blood,
and through the gusting of the winds, transports their saddened calls. "

© 01-20-2014, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(Fourteener, Iambic heptameter)
GV


Details | ekphrasis | |

Black Sunday {Personification in Couplet form}

I was as high as the eyes could see
A giant dark cloud of pure misery

I seemed to roll as one with the wind
A giant black wall that had no end

I stripped the land and left it bare
Of the lives I destroyed, I didn’t care

Those who stayed I covered in dust
As their children died I broke their trust

From my hell many families did flee
Left to wander homeless in misery

I changed the word these words are true 
Black Sunday brought darkness on you


I didn't see any direct link but just goggle
pictures of the dust bowl and you will see
what i have written for Brian's Contest.
The Dust Bowl - Alexandre Hogue - 1937


Details | Free verse | |

The Jew and a Nazi


Singing praise of past lives
with the dreams of swastikas and rose-tinted spectacles
floating through my head.
One moment, a Polish Jew,
the next, an Aryan German -
dual reflections held in the iron gaze
of a predatory raptor and the sharp-angled, six-pointed star
perpetually spinning, reopening wounds
which the weeping Roses of Sharon cannot heal.


I held you in my youthful arms, 
serpents rising from the secret codes of my loins, 
and I worshipped you as an old, universal lover 
as I penetrated your dark womb;
a sanctified temple of Angels and Daemons.
    
Initially we prayed to the inverted graves
sliding through oil-slicked skies,
so young of heart and mind we were. 
Our love was purified in the hellish Axis-kiln 
paralleling the flames flickering against our skin. 

The vessel of our love shone like glass, 
cooling off to less dangerous levels 
in the forgiving breeze of empathy
(aside from the fact that when I watched you move,
the world stood still for me).

And then we wiped away the green grins from the glass.
 
We became one pulse,  
the Jew and a Nazi
teaching each other how one should not pray to 'him' alone, 
for both phallic powers are needed 
to light the spark of creation:
    
"Our Father AND Mother who art in Heaven(after), 
hallowed be both thy names."

Male and female energies 
breathing life into each other,
fusing together 
like slightly distorted transvestite, Siamese twins. 
    
We wanted to stay in our fleshly pleasures, 
but our minds spread wings. 
Taking flight, 
ascending smoothly within turbulence, 
we transformed into golden light, 
moving invisible objects with our thoughts,
removing shackles, opening secret locks,
figuring out who was who --

who were the real Jews, and who were the true Nazis,
who were the Angels and who were the Daemons....

....who were Daemons and who were Angels. 









+/-



Details | Rhyme | |

A Knight of Passion

In days of old, 
ye knights were bold
And Dragons roamed the land
Sir Lancelot, he was a knight
And Fought with Sword in hand
White horse he rode 
With his lance
A shiny  suit of armour
Beware this knight, the story goes
He really is a charmer!
Now one fine day, he saw a lass
And whispered in her ear
A shock he got, when she revealed
I’m lady Guinevere
In love they fell
Before too long
Merlin cast a spell
While hunting out one afternoon
The king, black knight would tell
Black knight ‘s plan
Came alight
When Lancelot was banished
Shed a tear, did Guinevere 
When she learned he’d vanished.
Now this legend 
Hath been told
A morale doth contain
Keep your lance, tucked in your pants
And save yourself the pain!









Details | Personification | |

Sacred Seat: A Chair's Tale

The first thing that I recall knowing
As a sturdy and young olive tree
Extremely well rooted and growing
Was the sweltering sunlight on me

For two centuries I took deep root
To prepare for my ultimate fate
So when I could no longer bear fruit
There was then but a decade to wait

I was cut—left to dry for ten years
So that seasoned I’d perfectly be
For what the carpenter engineers
For admirers my beauty to see

Finally, the time came to carve me
Into the stout piece that would bear
The One who came down from His glory
I’d become a rough-hewn olive chair

Into the great city I traveled
The same city once fated for doom
Through alleys, then up a steep stairway
I was put in a small upper room

Beside the simple wooden table
I was placed in center position
Where the King who was born in a stable
Sat prepared to accomplish His mission

He prayed and broke bread with His brothers
As a symbol of what He would do
He blessed it then passed to the others
As His body; ’twas "broken for you"

Then to signify His precious blood
The red wine from the cup He did sip
So that it could cleanse as a flood
As from nail wounds it later would drip

To this day, I still can remember
How it felt when Christ Jesus did rest
I sensed that His love was so tender
Even when He was put to the test

He said, “Father, Father, forgive them”
As He faced His long prophesied death
The love for all things He had poured out
As He uttered His very last breath

Today, the risen Lord I remember
Whose story has long since been told
As I sit in the same dusty chamber
And recall that Last Supper of old





* Placed 1st in Deborah Guzzi's contest, "The Chairs Tale"


Details | Rhyme | |

Narcissus

How deeply Ameinias loved you
The beauty that your face adorned.
The adoration you thought your due
The love of youth you lightly scorned.

As consolation a sword you gave
A paltry gift for such devotion.
You did not care for grief so grave
Derision stoked the devastation.

That sword robbed him of his life
In bitter despair he cried in tears,
"May you one day feel the knife
Of unrequited love that sears!"

In the pool you saw a boy so fair
Felt the fire kindled in your mind,
In awe at such beauty you did stare
Love that will so ensnare and bind.

To seduce this boy in tender kiss
you found reflection in the pool.
Ah Narcissus, how did you miss
Loves sweet embrace in waters cool.

You killed yourself in deep despair
Unrequited love that burn until,
The body that once was so fair
Transformed into a dancing daffodil.

So listen young lovers, hear my plea
Be careful when young love you scorn.
Remember Narcissus, when in spring you see
How daffodils the chilly earth adorn.


Details | Free verse | |

SHADOWLANDS

                                “Once very near the end I said, 'If you can -- if it is allowed – 
                                 come to me when I too am on my death bed.”

                                 “Allowed!' she said. “Heaven would have a job to hold me;
                                  and as for Hell, I'd break it into bits.” 



                                  Oh God, God, why did you take such trouble to force 
                                  this creature out of its shell if it is now doomed to crawl back
                                  -- to be sucked back -- into it?

                                                                    ~ C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed ~


                                  __________________________________



The division should be acute, the before her, the with her, the after her,
Yet there is this constant rattling of doors, though they remain locked,

in theory. I think of her as gone until I turn a page and read a passage 
of pompous dialogue and she returns, My Joie de Vivre, entertaining me 

with that puckish wit, unabashed. She smiles in the dusk with crusading 
colours that bend dark horizons, changing clouds unexpectedly. What was I 

before Joy*? Content, pleasant and productive. But was I alive, aware of
Life, its blissful rhythms? Irony defined: the heart which awakened stone 

no longer beats. Finally, I understand. Lessons are sharp things which
infect both fresh and aging amputations. What do I do with this knowledge? 

It is like learning a language that is no longer spoken, a long monologue 
unbearably forlorn, painful. Faith dismisses hauntings, yet she does so 

in daily degrees, oh, the sweet ghosts that peer from those notes, my name 
underscored in margins. Why is there only one glove in the sewing box?  

Agony hunts me in the garden. Perfume almost, but not quite a match.
Some rooms have snares. I dare not open a kitchen drawer. Pain waits there.

The specter of my former self, a staunch gent, so sure of Heaven's role, 
that cold bloke follows me in the shadows, land of man’s rage and despair.

There is no pretty death, no words can comfort the ravaged left behind,
There is no poetry in our departing; I only pray there is Godspeed in mine. 



*Written Nov 4, 2012






Joy Gresham Davidman, American poet, and C.S. Lewis, English writer and Oxford scholar, were good friends and married solely for the purpose to keep Joy in England (contested). But love came, as it has a habit of doing, when least expected, after Joy was diagnosed with terminal cancer. There love was true and deep, and her death shattered Lewis. His book, A Grief Observed explores his anguish and a Christian’s questions which arise during times of suffering. The film, Shawdowlands, is based on the biography, Through the Shadowlands: The Love Story of C. S. Lewis and Joy Davidman. Lewis died 3 years after Joy. The above poem is a conjecture on my part, as no one can truly know what lies in another's heart, alive or otherwise.  


Details | Kyrielle | |

ANTICPATING THE THRILL OF THE HOLIDAYS

Nippy air bites the skin, sunlight trails off in a sky so morose;  
bare trees contemplate the yellow grass below mourning their lost splendor;
be that messenger of the Season's Greetings and avoid being sad and alone...
welcome to my holiday home at this special time of the year!


Assist me in decorating the pine-scented and candle-lit rooms ,
of my lair; please, come in and accept my hospitality with ardor;
let's chat over dinner and sparkling wine until darkness looms... 
welcome to my holiday home at this special time of the year!


Anticipate the thrill of the Holidays with a big smile spreading cheer:
dream of snow, of Santa riding his sleigh from the cold North Pole;
he'll remember every good kid who has shown obedience and grace...
welcome to my holiday home at this special time of the year!


I looked for a Christmas Tree crossing the snowy boardline,
searching the nearest forest for the tallest, prittiest one
with the help of neighbors who had a good will and no fear...
welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year!  


So much I will share and learn this Holiday Season announcing a divine birth
to the Earth below brightened by candles, twinkling lights and mirth; 
admire my decorations of garlands and golden bells to make you merrier...
welcome to my Holiday home at this very special time of year!


Family, friends and neighbors gather around this fireplace that will bewilder us,
let's remember the wonderful birth of our Savior Jesus, who came to visit us;
hear the song of the angels echoing through the chilly air...
welcome to my holiday home at this special time of year!





Details | Rhyme | |

BACK TO ORIGIN

People are commonly different
Symbol of diversity piece
Pure race doesn’t exists

Color and creed are just an identity
Believe only in human history
God sculptured them from clay

People are equally created
Having many opposites
But respecting others taste

When everyone is treated equal
Nothing appears but peace in hand
Discrimination, disunity and, suffering won’t be born anymore

Written to advocate to suppress racism
Bandar Sandakan, Sabah, Malaysia
10:30-11:00 am, November 13. 07, Tuesday


Details | Narrative | |

The Choice of Bonny Aileas

Through shadowed forest glade she rode
'Midst grey and gloomy chill
No single thought of safety did
A moment stay her will

The mist clung to her nostrils as
She charged into the brush
The creatures of the forest paused
In terrifying hush

Foreboding seeped into her bones
Ghastly, from ages spent
Urging her mount to breakneck speed
Resolve would not relent

To slow would mean downfall into
A consequence of dread
She knew if she but lost an inch
He lover would be dead

This morn she was awakened by 
His servant at her door
And with his last breath utterance
Fell bloodied to the floor

It seems a tartan wearing clan
Appeared in red and green
‘Tis true that a more fearful sight
Is rarely ever seen

Unwittingly, they’d crossed the line
Into the Fraser realm
It was then they were set upon
In stand of noble elm

So, now she raced to intercede
Upon her love’s behalf
To beg for mercy from the chief;
That he withhold his wrath

The secret she had hidden would
Surely offset slaughter
It was true she had been born the
Fraser Chieftain’s daughter

She’d fled her home ten years before
With  young Lord Cameron
The rival clan’s incumbent heir
Her lover and champion

She’d not been sorry up to now
For following her heart
She knew the toll her love would take
Right from the very start

But this would be a sacrifice 
She'd never wished to make
That for his life she would exchange
Hers for the clan to take



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 "



Details | Bio | |

me myself and i

Me myself and i

For I myself, 
Believe in myself.
For I love to stand by the book shelf.
In order to read some nice stuff.

Yoruba is my lineage.
I’m seen by my image.
And am called by my real name.
Buying things, I buy not fake.

I aim to be among the greats.
For one of my saying, says,
“Pays to be popular than being famous’’
Cos, famous people could be no-torious.

People say am pretty shy
That a time, I wish to cry.
Cos, I know I do try
To hide that, am really shy. 

I’m a Muslim,
For my religion is, Islam.
So, pock meat is an haraam.
But I’m free to dine on ram.

I wish to be a doctor 
So that youngsters can see me as a mentor.
I love teaching as a Professor.
For all that are great, are my mentor.

People don’t really know me,
So, this is to tell who I be.
For I prefer being a Lewis’ base,
Than to be a bronsted’s base.

Ridwan is my real name. 
Olyrid is just a nick name.
You better know before it’s too late,
For I involve not in a criminal case.

My advice for you in life is this:
Serve you GOD, when not in pains
For in good health a person fails,
But calling unto him when soaked in pains.

Olyrid4real,
Is my yahoo mail.
I’m dark, friendly and a little tall.
And all I love is winning soul.

For all I hate, is the “big boys” style.
Cos “sagging” is what they like.
For all I do, it’s my own style.
So if you like, you can be my type!


Details | I do not know? | |

The Little Drummer Boy

The little drummer boy....

He played this beat for you!?

But you could not hear

Still, he kept rapping upon that drum ~

Even as the salty tears they did flow

Standing all alone?

While the Heavens rains, began to pour....

Yet, still, he played ~

With somber upon his face

As the world about him

Continued to fade away?!

Drumsticks made of flames....

And Angels, that often sang 

The tunes of tomorrows, beginnings ~

Amid, todays, shades!?

He played and he played and he played

But no one wished to dance

Because no one could hear or, see

Nor, did they ever understand....

Standing all alone?

They laughed while he stood

Watching, the mountains melting into the sea

The stars, waving their forever goodbyes

To the shadows, upon the rise....

Beating his drum, to these end of days?!

Creation unknowing bathed, amid their moment

Frolicking within the merriments

Beneath this blinking Sun ~

Living, but dying....

Holding tightly these, evaporating dreams!?

But still, he played; rap tap tap

As the end of tears; rain would fall

Yet, again, they could not see nor, did they hear 

So, how could they have ever known?!

Though some did; oh, how they loved him so....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

....The little drummer boy ~






Note: Smile ~ Just another repo; Winter 06' & 07'....
"Pride In The Name of Love," by U2 ~ "Love," John!:) ~












Details | Rhyme | |

Jesus footles

Jesus came  
                  was slain

 crucified  died

                      he's alive

Jesus is risen
                    we forgiven

compassionate friend 
                             untill the end

father spirit son
                        three in one

Bibles read
                well fed
 sing 
      to our king

pray
      everyday 


Jesus' style
                 to reconcile

Happy days
                  God's ways

peace be 
             with thee   amen





                            






Details | Couplet | |

Marble in Columns on Green

On a slope graced with green
White marble stands in proud salute

For beneath these engraved pillars of memory
Lie the resting places of heroes

A solitary green fir looks down
As if sheltering the lost and the taken

So many names, from all walks of life
A father, brother a girlfriend or wife

On a sunny day, they glow radiant like their lives
On a dull day, they stand out against the greys

For the living, life goes on 
Tomorrow is another day


Details | Free verse | |

The letter

The Letter

DEAR Marlene,

Sweet heart of the dead
Adored by generations not yet born
Marlene we love you.

Your beauty burned the wings of JFK
And brought big John to his knees.
For your love, was meant for more.
You shocked the World with a velvet kiss
An elegant truth in a sea of Fools.

It took one voice to start a War,
One bullet to unite false prophets
One woman to speak out.
You ostracized the Nazis for what they were.
Stood tall, through treason
Did not follow, Hitler’s Spell
Chose to Love America s freedom instead.

When Reapers scythe came
Song and Compassion was your shield.
It Gave comfort to the damned as shell and mortar pound
Your words a respite, from the fear
And your beauty, a reminder.
That love awaits the Soldiers return.
Back to the German farms and the English meadows
For love knows nothing of war.

You witnessed holy sacrilege,
Saw blind disciples fuel the reapers fire
Both sides, in the name of god,
Oh how heaven must have wept

Marlene you dared to question religion,
For Your soul could see through the flames,
While others perished in mortals Pride.
You Asked god to review his plan.
Only you, Marlene could do that

Where have all the flowers gone
Your message to Humanity,
But the Heinkel and the Spitfire
Flew too high to hear
And the flowers of youth
All Eaten by silent sheep, and taken to yet another slaughter.

Yet be proud Marlene
For Your echo awakened a new generation to peace,
Although lasting peace is like true love, so hard to find,
But never the less, a goal we devote our lives to.
Some countries have found their Peace
While other search.
Humanity is still a child in these matters,
And war still goes on 
When will they ever, learn, when will they, ever learn.

Try to forgive us,
Perhaps the man upstairs,
Really does have another plan, Marlene Dietrich, 
At least I’m sure that Eternity
Will be a far more beautiful and interesting place
With you in it,
and I look forward to meeting you.

Love Steven 
xxxx

Footnote to this poem
JFK relates to her affair with President Kennedy
Big john relates to her affair with John Wayne
The Velvet kiss was the first lesbian kiss on main stream cinema 1930
Marlene was bisexual.
The line where have all the flowers gone and when will they ever learn comes from the song forever associated with Marlene Dietrich.

Brief Biography
Born 1901 in Germany
First film in 1920
Became American Citizen 1937
Awarded Medal of Freedom USA 1947
Awarded Legion of Honor by France
Died 1992 in Paris.


Details | Rhyme | |

My shoes

The shoes on my feet are old, worn and tattered 
I’ve walked  hundreds of  miles in them 
They have been through a lot and are beaten and battered 
But they are my shoes.

Sometimes they hurt my feet 
And when I step in puddles, 
its not a very nice treat..
But they are my shoes

The soles have started to come loose at the seams
and when I walk I can feel it flap as it  hits the ground 
Maybe a new pair of shoes is what that might deem.
But they are my shoes.

They haven’t been clean since I don’t know when
I could wash them I am sure, 
but some how it would take something away from them.
But they are my shoes 

When I put them on and walk out the door 
they never question where I might go 
they just silently accept it and so much more.
They are my shoes.

They have kept my travels a secret 
took many, many beatings 
and haven’t betrayed me yet 
They are my shoes 

I see people look at my feet all the time
I am sure they wonder why I haven’t tossed them yet 
But to me they are comfortable and fine.
They are my shoes

Don’t judge me because of my worn and tattered shoes 
you haven’t walked where I have walked
or been where they have taken me, trust me I’ve paid my dues 
These are my shoes.

And I will throw them out 
when and how I choose