We bound down the stairs, out into the light-of-day, and into the blue of the
misty breezes, heavily laden with the smell of wild sea salt roses that grow in
perfusion along the winding road, that bends and turns in gentle lifts and dips to
the other side of the bay, where it crosses the bridge and rises up and winds
away, over the hill.
Overhead the seagulls screech and glide over the ocean spray that washes on
the rocks on the lower banks behind our house along the Fundy Bay, where we
run like the wind through the fields of fresh cut hay and make our way to the
rocky mantle below .
There in the volcanic plateau, worn smooth as glass by the constant rolling
weight of the ocean, is our pool, known by all in our village, as ‘Lizza’s Bathtub’,
created by the eruption of the earth’s inner core, millennia’s ago.
We slip into the still, salty water that has been warmed beneath the blazing sun,
and float with the perry winkles and tiny crabs and listen to the sound of the
ocean, that roars beneath us as it leaves in the receding tide, while we drift
away, in our minds, my little brother the ‘King’ and I, the ‘Queen’ for a day on
the ‘Fundy Bay’.
Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2006
“Well,” She asked; her eyes wide. Beads of hot sweat glistening on her brow like miniature
crystal suns. Her angst was palpable. “What is it!”
The air was still. There were no words. Just the sound of bodies breathing in – and
“Congratulations.” He held out his arms, handing the mother, her baby, “You have a son.”
The moment shone like glass in the center of the heavens – pure and eternal.
It was redemption from every wrong thing she’d ever done.
It was the shining eyes of God smiling onto her exhausted face; lighting it with hope.
It was the only place there was – the only time, the only space.
It was the only feeling that existed.
They were the only two incarnate souls in the room; on the planet, and in the universe.
This was her child –
And she was his mother.
(there are no words for such things. suddenly, I feel like an intruder. there are too many
eyes, words and moments here. so it is here, I take my leave; leaving this mother and the
only soul in her universe to their perfect moment. they will have many more moments in this
lifetime; but none as sacred, as human, or as eternal as the first look from life to life;
mother to child; heaven to earth, as the very first. None.)
“It’s a boy.” she whispered. Her throat a crumbling tunnel; stunned, but not really. Like
she’d known it all along. “My baby boy…” She smiled into his ancient, brand-new face;
tracing his delicate cheek with the back of her finger. “He’s perfect.”
She ran her palm along the bottom of his soft, miraculous foot, and laughed. “Look at
your feet – they’re huge!”
And as she wiped the tears with the heel of her shaking hand – smearing what was left of
her mascara - she looked in to his, as close to heaven as one can get, eyes, and said, “Hi.
I’m your mama.” He smiled at her. He knew. He’d known it all along. “And I’ll love you
The world closed its shades then. Leaving the sacred to its history; the moment to
eternity; and their universe to its quiet, little room.
*Inspired by Deborah's, You Must Have Been A Beautiful Baby, contest; and every mother
who has graced this sacred room.
Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2009
learning from the past
turning the dark into light
grasping a lesson from our Father
climbing levels of enlightenment
The Almighty presents us with lessons each and everyday
it is our job to acknowledge the lessons and grow from them
Although presented in different ways
we all go through the same lessons in life
I call it "climbing levels of spiritual enlightenment"
if you grasp the lesson presented and live by that lesson you will begin your climb
if you fail to live by that lesson you will tumble back down over and over
hence the lessons will be presented to you once again until you achieve them
The lessons are not always pleasant as the flesh cries out in pain
as I climb and fall throughout my life
the agony is soon replace with delight
a little pain to receive a blessing from our King
What appears to be a failure or a loss with no way out
is simply a hidden blessing , a gift from our King......
It's time to start climbing!!!
lets grow strong..........
Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2010
Back in time,
in the wild, wild west,
a person had to stand,
to a face to face test.
If someone robbed you,
or stole your horse,
then to the street,
settled out of court.
Whomever drew first,
whether standing or not,
the people would scream,
he deserved what he got.
The sheriff held order,
in his little town,
and if one didn't obey,
he would lock them down.
Breaking in a home,
one better think twice,
or be willing to take,
whatever he got.
Then things progressed,
more laws were made,
and a peacemaker's life,
began to fade.
Politicians took over,
they had a plan,
and over the years,
we still don't understand.
Copyright © Christy Hardy | Year Posted 2009
Greet the little King,
who has been born in a cold manger
on the holiest of nights;
and by the glitter of a descending star,
He will spread peace in the land...
follow the shepherds and find that sight!
My gift to Him is my joyful song,
and with this clarinet I will usher in His coming...
walk side by side with the pretty angels and rejoice;
bring Him your gift, and surround Him with joy!
See the three Magi arriving on jewel-draped camels,
holding in their laps the gifts of His destiny.
A winter's night has always been completely bright,
every hill is hidden by darkness, but an heavenly light
appears across the frosty sky of Bethlehem, while divine
voices announce Emmanuel's glorious birth,
everyone wakes up and sees that star and follows it;
and where it stops, they find a baby without a crown.
Greet the Son of the Highest, the Wonderful Redeemer,
whom the Virgin Mary has borne in the humblest of places...
in the small town without a temple, or a palace for the Emperor,
where Mary and Joseph will train their child in Godly ways;
greet the little king, He will smile and invite you in,
and His smile will spread peace beyond the star-lit hill.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009
like the raven
who taps taps upon
your chamber door
do not fret my Virginia
for it's my shadow
moving across the floor
this is what I'm telling you my darlin
and nothing more
I still call your name
come to me virginia
come hear the tap tap
upon your chamber door
for only you my love
I surrender and never more
wind howls in blanket snows
here I stand so all alone
broken hearted and misconstrued
my Virginia who lies under stars and moon
just a tap tap upon your chambers door
tis I and nothing more
tales of hidas truth
blackbird sings harps cords
just like the tap tap upon your chambers door
my sweet Virgina whom I adore
for there'll be love waiting and nothing more
as I lay right next to you in this tomb
I counted only seven who have even knew
the times of this raven who
tapped tapped upon your chambers door
twas only I and will be never more
Tribute To Edgar Allen Poe
And His Young Bride Virginia
Also To His Poem The Raven
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2009
A calm fell over me as I arose from my birth,
A hush falls over the Earth,
As if God had, once more given birth to a new Universe.
I looked up and thought I saw,
His bright smile reflected in the sun,
His angels were all dancing in glee,
Smiling and singing for you and for me.
I felt His Presence, oh! so near,
As if He was saying, "Oh my dears,
I love you so much I had to make,
New worlds for you to take".
And I thought, as His new day greeted me,
"What a kind and loving Father is He,
He greets us with a new World made from above,
and all He wants in return, is our Love."
Copyright © Patricia Leonaitis | Year Posted 2006
Yah! Let me tell you,
Let me tell you about the last struggle in our country
2000 political violence.
Those days thousands of people lay dead
The streets were full of blood.
I want to tell you about how people were suffering
Some they spend seven days without anything to eat
Some where forced to walk hundred miles
People where struggling,
People where crying
I want to tell you about how people were disappearing.
Brothers and fathers were forced to join the ruling party
Young stars were forced to join the green bomber youth militia
Mothers and sisters were raped,
Some were raped in front of their husbands,
In front of their children.
I was scared very scared
My tears were running down to my chick
When I saw a young 14 year girl raped in front of me
She was raped by 4 strong men.
I sweated! Shivering nothing to say
Only I was shaking my head my hands were holding my mouth,
Let me tell you about the blood shade.
I want to tell you about the white farmers
White people were forced to leave their farms
They left their properties they were not aloud to carry
Some they were beaten
Their farms were burned in ashes
Crops were slashed by the so called war veterans.
I want to tell you about how people were murdered
Some you find their body parts missing.
I was breathing heavily,
When my friend was hanged on a mango tree
Nqobani was innocent, he was a kindness man
But he died because he was an enemy to the ruling part.
He died whilst fighting for change
Her private parts were found missing.
Tears can dry but memories can't die
I will always remember you
And I will keep on fighting unless we set free.
I want to tell you about this government
This government of ours has totally destroyed,
Our beloved country
It has totally destroyed the whole situation
From his excellence president to his exultant dictator
Let me tell you I want.
Only the government they know is to maintain its solders
And policeman by buying them new boots, new stockiest, new
New underpants and the new button sticks
Yet the economy is going down.
Things are hard to get
No ballpoint, no sugar, no fuel, no water, even a toilet tissue
You can’t find it
Or cry beloved country or cry beloved country.
I want to tell you everything and I will tell you
From south, to north, east to west.
From kwaBulawayo to Harare via Gweru
All corners of the country
Let me tell you and I will tell you
Copyright © Nqo Mafu | Year Posted 2006
Follow the Yellow Brick Road
As I was walking
Along my chosen path
Where each step marks
A notch this world hath
I caught a glimpse of
A Yellow Brick Road
Like the one from Oz
Once long ago told
Now how the glimpse
Came my way
I chose a path to take
On a sunny day
Back to work from break
Strolling merrily along
Head held high with joy
Whistling a happy song
I jumped over a little crack
Just purposely out of my way
Being sure to be aware
Never matters which day
As I came up to my office
Tapping a rock with my heel
Then the feeling hit me
The vision seemed very real
A comparison factor in our minds
Creating obstacles out of fear
Or do we step over them
To prove we are there
It’s our choice to place sunshine
On the path we choose to go
Thus creating a happy path
To Follow the Yellow Brick Road
Florence McMillian (Flo)
Copyright © Florence McMillian | Year Posted 2012
Oh well I got an angry email to begin my day
Because of my last post on the Jabidah thing yesterday
Galit sa akin but greeted me with Assalamu alaykum.
And kung personal Moro friends ko naman ito
They know I don't criticize Moro leaders
I always leave that to them to criticize their leaders
According to my friends baka nasa gubyerno or something
Next time I'll write na lang about the sea and the palm trees and the beaches
Pray and pray nalang para walang provocation
ako nga ang daming nag-message sa akin nagalit sa issue ng Sabah standoff
Ikaw pa kaya na wala namanng masama na sinabi dun
Alam mo ‘buti na lang you verbalized that kasi iniisip ko rin ‘yun
I know you have reasons and you know better kaya; I just read your posts
I don’t have to go against parties kasi both have rights
And the issue must be solved
Wala, kasi sa akin kundi independence lamang ang kailangan
May ganyan din kasing realities?
Minsan you are being asked or expected to take sides
Yes, my side is peace – with peace is independence
Yes, I heard that sa dating Jabidah Massacre celebration
Somebody said that, “Walang kapayapaan kasi walang kalayaan”
And that is very universal, kapatid.
Moro or non-Moro and writing should always geared towards humanity
That’s why for me it “anti-humanity” if you will not listen
Or suppress when somebody will talk about freedom.
That’s the problem with Filipinos, they don't listen.
Kasi the leaders may sarili ring interests.
How do you see being Filipino?
Ako, it's a cage, Filipino nationalism
Agenda ng mga oligarchs and landowners
Filipino nationalism is violence against Muslims and lumads
Kasi ‘pag ako ang tatanunginmo I will never say I am Filipino
Because Tausug it’s not a name but an identity...
I understand but kaunti na lang kayo
Ako sasabihin ko na I am a Filipino but I have reservations
When I was a teenager hindi ako tumatayo ‘pag Lupang Hinirang
ngayon tumatayo na kasi napapaaway ang mga kasama ko sa sinehan
Yes and identity should be critically assessed and examined.
Kaya if they say Filipino ang mga Tausug masakit sa aking loob
But not all, kapatid. try mo pumunta sa Manila
Yung mga Moro na malalapit sa mga institusyon ng Pilipinas
Bakit iba ang Moro at ibang ang Tausug
kaya sila naging Moro at masaya na tawaging Moro
May identity na naiiba sa Filipino
Pinag-aaralan ko rin yan and ino-observe ‘yung pag-yield sa 'Filipino'
‘Will give Filipinos a disservice
Because it is tantamount to be an accomplice to a corrupt system
And this system is the one that oppresses Muslims
At alam natin ang Tausug di lamang taga-Sulu
Pati Bisayan, Tausug din
As much as possible I am trying to make my writings 'away'
Away from Filipino nationalism
That's the right way for me and my writing
I will ask first, “How it is to be human?”
At super last na ang, “How to be a Filipino”
And the Bangsamoro struggle is the greatest critique to the violence
And failures of Filipino nationalism
Ang problema kasi kaya di successful ang Bangsamoro struggle
Dahil nagdadala sila ng pangalan na di naman originally sa kanila
How come ang pangalan ko ay Abdul sa rights
Gagamitn ko ang Juan para sa aking bayan?
Kaya war of ideas ito and alam mo naman sa akin, ‘pag ideas
And perspectives walang kompromiso and peace talks
I do not compromise my language, my craft and myself, my writing
Filipino is an imagined nation, as well as Bangsamoro
Bakit di natin magamit ang orignal nation natin
Na based sa Sulu archipelago and Mindanao
Yes, actually diyan ako papunta - papunta
Bakit hindi i-Bangsamoro-ized ang buong Filipinas?
It doesn’t mean na i-convert ang Pilipinas
But the spirit, the struggle it should mean something to Filipinos
It should kasi ang dami na nagbuwis ng buhay
Kaya ko pa na tanggapin kung Maharlika
‘Yan ang gusto kong ma-achieve: Filipinos should listen to Moros
Siyempre marami pang madidiscover along the way
Indeed. Ikaw ba ‘pag sasabahin ko na ‘Tausug’ ano ang maiisip mo?
Tausug is Moro and Moro for me is something that predates 'Filipino'
But now, I would like to know the concept of “Lupah Sug”
I want to know it, I think there are more and beyond Moro on it
Before ‘Moro’ was named to Mindanao and Sulu people
It was first name to Aceh people, Melaka, Brunei and then Manila
Sulu and Mindanao were the last places to have been called the name ‘Moro’
Sulu archipelago was united under the name Sulu archipelago
The name of people is Tausug.
Tausug is composed of different ethnics:
Arab, Banjar, Dampuan, Buranun etcetera.
The concept of Sulu as part of dar al islam
Is already a nation and state
Where the government is the people and itself headed by sultan or raja
Yes, and I would like to feel this from the ordinary Tausugs when I get there
I would like to experience this from ordinary Tausug and on from place itself.
In the hinterland of Jolo, their laws still on the ground not of Philippine law
I believe in narratives
I want to hear and feel this from the place and from the people.
And then capture it; I have these thoughts
That Lupah Sug has something that the Moro concept does not have
And it’s a bit metaphysical but sige lang.
I know my craft can capture it.
I think there is a language that can capture it
And specific craft that can carry its soul
Not fictionalize but put it in a form like a novel or a narrative
Which have their own logic and truths as crafts.
This poem is made after the conversation and sharing with Filipino writer Rogelio Braga who also serves as the editor of the poem. He is currently in Mindanao, travelling and writing; he will then proceed to Sulu Archipelago soon. 2:28PM, 19 March 2013, Facebook Chat across Sulu Sea!
Copyright © Neldy Jolo | Year Posted 2013
I hold three rocks in my hand
Rolling them over and over and over
Leaving this reality behind, far behind
I feel the rocks leaving my hand
As my eyelids begin to close
And I drifted off into my own little world
In the air the scent of a rose
I awoke to find a different world
Finding there had been a radical change
In the air there was still the scent of a rose
In my heart I felt so strange
Hatred famine and bigotry were gone
There was peace and joy and love
There were neighbors helping neighbors
Only blue skies up above
No more fear or anger
On war there was a ban
A world of human compassion
A brotherhood of man
There was universal acceptance
No damage to self esteem
I raised my eyes to heaven
Oh Lord let this not be a dream
God Bless those who suffer
Some day may your suffering cease
God bless those who search in vain
May you find love and peace.
Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2009
A young shepherd living near the hill,
taking his flocks everyday to drumlin.
He wonders deeply while sitting upon the rocks,
looking at afar house while feeding his flocks.
The shepherd's desire is fantasy of afar home,
that has golden windows behind hedge of anemone.
He wonders if the windows of the house are gold
how other appurtenance of the house are mould?
He starts his journey to there, finally after some time,
going along the way across the hill while biting a loaf of naan.
When arrives, he finds the house in fully collapsed condition.
There are no golden windows but a poor crumbled house.
He looks to his own house down the drumlin
surprised by the heavenliness of his own dwelling
The sun was casting back on his house's stained windows
just like the sparkling on the gold as the sun downs
Copyright © Sirat Ahmad Haidary | Year Posted 2014
Ana Cecilia Callejas
Rodrigo Perez Gavilan
The Bad King
“Lexer” was a lion who was the King of the entire animal kingdom, during his reign all the animals lived in complete harmony, they were all happy and graceful, and Lexer takes care of them and protects them. One day “Lexer” and his wife had an adorable baby lion that was named “Dylan” as he grew up Lexer teached him a lot of things since he was going to be the heir of the animal kingdom. Dylan also made a lot of friends but his best friend was Jim. Dylan and Jim spend almost all the days together, as the time passed Jim started to hang out with the Rhinos, which were the bad ones of the kingdom. Jim turned into a bad lion and started to incite Dylan to make bad things and he became also a bad lion. One day lexer got very sick and a few days later he passed away so Dylan became the king. All the animals were very sad because they loved Lexer he has been so far the best ruler of the animal kingdom. Time passed and Dylan forgot all the good things his father taught him and started to become a bad lion and a bad king. Influenced by Jim and the Rhinos that were friends with Jim Dylan started to do bad things. He put animals to fight between each other just for their amusement and had some of the animals as slaves just to be his servants, he also ordered other animals to kill so he can eat and have feasts, and this caused a lot of panic in the entire animal kingdom. Dylan mother tried to make him reconsider and change, to do all the good things his father taught him for him to be a good king but Dylan just became worse. All this caused that the animals lost his confidence towards the king and started to live just with the ones of their own kind and also began to fight with all the other animals to survive. This caused that the world became a bad place and since that moment the harmony did not existed anymore and the animals had to take care on their own.
Moral of the fable: if you are a good person and you have good values don’t let anyone to influence you and change the way you are.
Copyright © Ana Callejas | Year Posted 2012
If i have ever hurt anyone in any way I'm sorry, cause I learned in the last two days that everybody has something wrong in their lives everybody has troubles in some way and one word u say could hurt them badly ... And one good thing u say could make their day so everybody I'm sorry if I ever hurt u in anyway.. And I hope everyone has a good day. No one deserves to be treated how u treat people, we all have feelings... And we all have made mistakes, and we all have issues but that's no reason to treat someone like u do Imam pray u get a heart and learn what you are doing is wrong. And I hope u stop. You say u hate drama? But girl u r drama! Just saying so from now on I am going to be me, I'm going to be myself not who everyone else wants me to be... (: cause being someone your not isn't right u shouldn't have to change for anyone..
Copyright © craig schaber | Year Posted 2012
A light - beyond bright -
beckons me warmly
from a place beyond which I cannot yet see.
As I approach a stairway which glistens like gold,
all my former burdens and apprehensions melt away.
Body aches have vanished and I feel that I am floating toward the steps,
melting from a warmth,the intensity of which
can only be matched by the radiance of the not so distant light.
A tenderness I now can easily recognize
emanates from that glorious light.
Nearing the stairway, I can hear sweet strains
of a music whose instruments I can't define.
I cannot see, and yet I strangely know, beyond any doubt,
that upon reaching the top of those golden stairs,
something splendid awaits me beyond the doorway.
Something forgotten is tugging at my brain,
an awareness of having been here before.
Am I simply returning to a place from whence I came
before my sojourn on the earth -
that place where loving spirits dwell in perfect peace?
On reaching the door, I do not even have to knock.
My mere desire to enter has been heard
and my unspoken questions have been answered,
for the door slowly swings open.
I cross the threshold and enter not into a building,
but rather into another realm.
Vivid colors dance before my eyes in the guise
of flowered meadows, hills and rills, birds and butterflies.
This landscape of indescribable beauty seem to go on forever.
A deluge of memories comes flooding my mind.
Suddenly, a snow white dog comes bounding toward me.
It's my precious Ollyver, who died so many years ago, the first to greet me.
He leaps into my arms just as he used to do
every night when I reached the doorway of my earthly home.
Flocking toward me are others.
I become dizzy with happiness and the thrill of it all. . .
And then appears my stepfather, no longer afflicted with dementia,
along with my dear brother Dale, who left our earthly home
sadly when he was still in his prime and full of dreams!
Next come those beloved friends of my family,
people whom I saw each Sunday at church and who later passed away,
people whose lives touched mine all those years ago of my childhood.
Others that arrive I recognize instantly as ancestors of mine,
even though many of them I'd never even met while on earth!
They come to embrace me, one after another in the beautiful meadow,
and the music I had been hearing swells to the joyous sound
of an angel's choir.
Written by Andrea Dietrich May 24, 2012
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012
The american economy is on life support has been for years. Sad it makes my heart fill with tears. The land we live the land we love. America is in trouble no doubt but i don't worry about it i let GOD take care of it that way i don't got to figure it out. I want to see my future but not as a blur.
Copyright © craig schaber | Year Posted 2011
My first love - when we ended,
They told me to pray to God,
And that he would make time,
My new best friend.
And with the love I had for you,
The despair I would fall out of.
My second love - when we ended,
They did not tell me anything,
For what really could they say?
I sit and watch the hands of grace,
Embalming memories of emotion.
Love forbidden to ever die but,
Peace in how under time it hides.
So I still know,
In spirits and parallels,
I am still with you both,
And this was never written.
From a brunette final encore,
they told me to pray to God,
and that he would make time
my new best friend.
And with the love I had for you,
the despair I would fall out of, but
when blond strands reached split ends,
they did not tell me anything,
for what really could they say?
I sat and watched the hands of grace,
embalming memories of emotion.
Love forbidden to ever die, but
peace in how under time it hides.
So I still know,
in spirits and parallels,
I am still with you both,
and this was never written.
Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2014
I sleep in peace tonight.
Hope that day will come.
When I find you underneath the
Waiting for me and a life that never
For Eternal love will always be
And you will know that I care no
matter the troubles.
That even If death were to come, it
be with us a couple.
I sleep in peace tonight.
Hoping my family loves, and so do
And that God may forgive for all my
Because when I am gone, let there
be not a tear shed.
But a laugh of remorse, and that you
For I will sleep in peace tonight.
Copyright © Tanner Anderson | Year Posted 2013
America the Worlds Hope for Peace and Prosperity Has Become A Culture of Death
How did this happen? America, how did you become a culture of death? You were
founded upon the Word of God and Jesus, the Savior of the World. The Bible says in Him we live, and move and have our being. Jesus said, “I have come to give you life and that more abundantly”! He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life; no one comes to the Father but by Him.
I realize that many bad moves and changes have taken place to bring about such
a shift of principals, morals and beliefs that have caused the fall of our society. Many things are attributed to it including, the Church in America moving away from the central theme of the Gospel, the Cross of Jesus Christ. We have moved away from the Lord, Himself, and we have placed man on the throne of our hearts instead of Christ! We have taken God out of the classrooms in our schools, and when we removed God, Satan then had the inroad to these young and tender minds and hearts of our children.
Our country has become so “self centered” that we have been touting the ideology that man is a god unto himself, and this has spread the self-centered lifestyle and has taken hold across our land. We look out for #1, what is best for you, the most convenient for you, if it feels good, do it.
Wanting to become like “Twiggy” the concentration camp model that caused many women to die trying to get their emaciated bodies to look like her and developing anorexia in the process. And in the 70’s, if being pregnant was inconvenient for the mother, go get an abortion, who cares, it is “my body”, no madam, it isn’t your body that you are killing, you are killing an innocent human being, instead, you said, it is my figure, my fun, my time, my party and you become a “god” in your own eyes and you took the life away from your own baby, and now, we have as a nation, I believe killed well over 100 million babies, I say that many because, the killing keeps taking place but the numbers have not been increasing! Also, the babies that these babies would have had… no one is counting the whole generation that was slaughtered.
Now we are a nation where our youth is dressing in black clothing participating in the “walking dead”, killing each other at schools and on the street, watching “Zombies”, playing violent electronic games feeding on death continually!
When will this stop??? It won’t without a blood bought, devil stomping, sin killing Holy Ghost revival! Without Christ in our lives, a personal relationship with our Creator, every soul in this world will either end up in Heaven if they choose to accept what the Lord Jesus Christ has done for mankind through His own blood, or will end up in Hell burning in the Lake of Fire for an eternity! They will literally breathe fire forever! Wouldn’t that be enough to convince you to choose life? Death is not pretty, it is horrible, messy, ugly, and putrid but life in Christ is beautiful and abundant. It is fulfilling, lovely, pure but, only if you know Jesus personally. It is really up to us, and I pray that as you read this narrative poem that you will choose life, life in Christ, ask Him today to come into your life and forgive your sins!
Written by: Marilyn S. Jennings
August 8, 2015
Copyright © Marilyn Jennings | Year Posted 2015
Will there ever be total peace in the world
Or am I just a silly old goon
As long as loonies want more than their share
Even want a piece of the moon
Good people of earth will forever resist
When countries get too big for their britches
And want much more than they're entitled
Like a bigger share of the world's riches
They risk the chance of destroying our planet
Destroying it for their own greedy plans
They can't be allowed to accomplish their goals
The future of mankind is at hand
These brutal subhumans must be stopped at all cost
Their plan is usually world domination
Sound familiar? Reminiscent of World War II?
Must avoid the same contamination
So with the time I have left of a wonderful life
What a fitting climax it would be
To wake up one morning before getting the call
Finding all world's people are free!
© Jack Ellison 2015
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015
While listening to Schumann’s “Arabesque”
and “Fantasiestüche” for the Mozart B flat Sonata,
I feel the warmth and love that’s powerful within;
a moment of instrospection, a source of intervention.
I live in a wonderful country, beautiful and well-known;
its historical significance and cultural diversity,
define those experiences with charm and closeness
that make something special how New York stands now.
The Statue of Liberty with its wide attraction to many,
a perfect landmark that speaks volumes about migrants;
as a gift from France that took a long voyage to arrive
between two countries there’s friendship and assurance.
The Ellis Island Immigration Museum is just close by,
where photos and experiences of the early immigrants
are showcased and memorialized as treasures of the land
so interesting that makes everyone know how they were.
In all five boroughs from Manhattan to the Bronx, Queens,
Brooklyn, and Staten Island, there’s a look of sheer delight;
great attractions and endless events scheduled for all seasons,
breathtaking sights with Broadway theatres and the brightest -
Times Square that has always been a rendezvous for tourism.
Oh, city of New York! filled with everything that one can claim
a known place in the world with so much to offer to all
like London in England, Madrid in Spain, or Milan in Italy;
all these cities have world-class shopping one can be interested in.
There are great places for dining, culture, tours, and transportation,
subways are convenient for everyone to explore Manhattan
with a number of museums, galleries, and centers for all promotions
like entertainment, history, arts, culture, music and literature.
Delighting audiences of all ages has got the Big Apple has,
it brings you up to date favorite and famous big-screen moments;
artistic and entertaining performances such as musical extravaganzas,
sci-fi fantasies, romances, sweeping epics, concerts and many others.
Trendy boutiques, funky cafes, velvet-roped nightspots and delis
are some places full of culture that one can probably explore;
their stories and history provide us with vistas and attention
Truly, places of glamour, excitement, entertainment, and much more.
Oh, city of New York it’s a great adventure to explore this, so far,
its fascinating neighborhoods with a variety of cultures involved,
a great experience, an enriching reality with multi-ethnic groups;
with legendary history that celebrates and shapes humanity.
Copyright © mark escobar | Year Posted 2012
Decided to write about the ills of the world.
Perhaps I'd need a bigger forum
for such a vast undertaking.
Now let me see, where should I start,
with the Neanderthals?
Well, methinks nothing much has changed
since we became “civilized”.
Wow! That was quite a stretch,
The word civilized is open to interpretation.
In my wee brain, it means
acting in a civilized manner towards
our fellow homo sapiens.
Listening to the six o'clock news any day
and you'd be hard pressed to find
any examples of civilized behaviour.
Is it just the mood I'm in today?
NO! It's been like this since the dawn of time.
I absolutely DO NOT UNDERSTAND!!!
Can we justify it by saying.
“It's who we are... a combative species?”
There, that let's us off the hook.
With today's modern technology
methinks it will only get worse.
We will all become detached from our feelings,
robotic like the mechanical creatures
that will some day be the rue of mankind.
I don't want to be around to see it!
© Jack Ellison 2015
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015
Their lived a man once upon a time in Hollywood
Who in peace and war his glory stood
Reaching by far his story could
For he was known to share holy food
From a holy book in Hollywood
Always alone he used to be
With his broad sword no enemy was left free
He could slash and shriek zubb zubb like a bee
And took a holy book and said, ‘Lord forgive me.’
And finally admitted this is how it’s suppose to be
He went to the coast to enjoy the calm see breeze
And watched immigrant ships telling him to freeze
He killed people who had pads on their knees
And preached to those who has none of these
And could finally pray as usual in the breeze
He stood for all joy and stood for anger
For he had to use both his book and his panga
As they both worked on people to kill their hunger
He gave a wait to his finger
Which pointed at the book to kill the anger
For his missions he never was late
I don’t know how because there were no calendars to tell the date
Nor clock to tell the time, but sunrise and sunset
When he hunted his need until he would get
And his book and sword was used on time, never late
He was known to be a Hollywood ranger
Who could welcome any stranger
Whether for peace or war he was ready for any danger
On Christmas he used to sing away in a manger
And he was ready to preach and fight as a ranger
Stories were flying about adventures of him
But publishers were scared to publish his film
Nor light on him could beam
For they were afraid of his team:
The holy book, the sword, and him
Now you may wonder how I’m writing about this man
It’s neither because I have a gun
Nor because I’m able to run
But it’s because he passed away and he’s done
And every creature in Hollywood remembers this man.
Copyright © Walani Ndhlovu | Year Posted 2013
We are kenyan superstars,
That is what we are,
Kenya our mother land and pride,
Shines so bright that it cannot fade,
Today we hear,`Kenyan athletes bring home,
Bronze,Silver and Gold,'
Tomorrow,``The Kenya Rugby 7's defeat New zealand again.''
The Maasai culture came up with the Akala sandals,
Which are made out of rubber,
The luhya introduced Bull fighting,
The Kalenjin made `mursik' or fermented milk,
And to name but a few communities,
With their diverse cultures.
I believe that kenyans were born great,
To grow up and achieve greatness.
To become one of the most formidable
Intellects of our time,
Just like the late Mzee Jomo Kenyatta,Dedan Kimathi,
Tom Mboya,Kijana Wamalwa to name but a few,
To change people's reasoning conclusively,
And make them see reality and not building castle's in the air.
Kenyans were born great,
Because greatness was thrust upon them,
To change Africa's impoverished state,
And make it a better place,
For you and for me and the entire human race,
To raise heroes and heroines,
To conquer social evils in the society.
If we were born great,
Let us believe in ourselves,
Be contented with whatever we do in our lives,
Let us love one another, live in unity and work
together as a nation,
Let the past be a stepping stone for us to succeed in future,
And leave the rest, to the Almighty God.
Copyright © Kaiga Sandra | Year Posted 2013
Finally..Mr.Whitman, I understand as my journey is symbolic to yours;
but, through my poverty-strickened doors.
Fighting your human instincts...
while learning your internal glow within. Frightening, enlightening, inviting his omnipresence in
and as your reward he transforms you into him.
Breathing your FIRST breath again.
Loving life from the core of the earth to the pull of the moon. Stuck in the middle yet
understanding all of the connectivity; because I'm living in a state of Divinity.
Copyright © Stepheney hernandez | Year Posted 2011
So, I guess a 12 year old
American brown male playing by himself
with a toy gun
is outside your boundary
for normal early-adolescent activity.
Well, I can see why you would need
to draw your boundary
for healthy rationality
outside his grassy field of fire-armed play.
I can see why we need to draw this line
of "only predictably domesticated life matters"
the way we do
to look our friends and children in the eyes
"I can accept this loss
as one caused by an unfortunately timed
dual act of wildness;"
but is it not significantly wilder
to fire ballistics at youth
than for youth to fire only ballistic imagination?
I can see that we need to doubt
reasonable risks of public recreation
for some lives
differently than other lives
to gaze into our social-cultural mirror
with both eyes
with fully comprehensive integrity:
"We accept that Black Adolescent Lives Splatter
loss across our leaking shared loves and livelihoods,
thereby wilting our collective mental health,
starving our social wealth for future regeneration,
and yet hope we still dream
of somehow re-transposing,
All Lives Matter
in current US eco-political culture.
Now that is egocentric mendacity;
not even Anthro-centric integrity.
We each and all must hunt our way
toward facing our fear of ourselves
our lack of empathy
our neglectful lack of fully activating functional-flowing information.
Some hunting ways bring further Business As Usual
further failure of polycultural integrity,
further degenerative mono-egocultural stasis.
Some hunting ways promise more co-operative co-arising ballast
for culturally active hope.
It is this ballast we seek
between our self/other-reflecting eyes,
hoping to discover peace within as justice without,
and not more enslaving reductive addiction
to ballistics of overly-automated violence,
full-will without sufficient time to assess full-intent,
responding to fear of fear ourselves,
right between our blindered eyes.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015
The Storm Is Near
As I sit in this field
I looked in the sky
And noticed a storm is near
Should I run in fear
Or sit and see what's near
As the wind got stronger
I started second guessing myself
Like, why am I still sitting here
But something came over me
And I wanted to see
What the sky will look like once it passed
Even though some may say
I saw it as an opportunity
To look fear in the eye
As this storm passed me by
In the midst of my storm
I stop worrying about how it would end
And let go of all my fears
Even though I felt lonely
A presence of peace
Came over me
And I realized that
I was being protected
To see a brighter day
I felt my situation getting better
As I continued to pray
On this dark and stormy day
Even as I was in my storm
I looked beyond it
And saw gleams of light
It was like He was challenging me
To allow Him to move the clouds
And shed some light
I heard a voice say
Don’t waste a perfect storm
So I continued pushing forward
I noticed that it was working,
And the storm that's here
Will soon pass
After every storm comes the calm
So, I changed my thinking and said
Clear skies getting near!
Copyright © Melvin Hodge III | Year Posted 2015
So far down into my pit of anguish, I find myself.
Slowly, some of my senses are coming back to me. Teh aching pain inside my soul and heart doesn't make this easy, but I try to rise my head, to stand on my own. In front of me, I find a looking glass.
Glancing at its cracked and dirty surface, I do not recognize teh face displayed in there. "For how long have I been sinking till I became this?" I think to myself. "Whatever is this that I spy, ain't worth the effort, mine or of anyone else..."
Squishing my eyes shut, in an attempt to fight this feeling of time wasted, of remorse and melancholy, feeling like my time is waning faster than it should, of it being wasted, I fail hard to do so.
Like sand, it goes through my fingers as I try to get a hold of it but, to no avail, it falls and vanishes into the drain.
And, as like that, I find her, once more. Cold and sharp, waiting. The crimson tint beneath my shell isn't a so soothing sight to behold no longer, in hope to make it fade away, all these evil thoughts and frustrations accumulating on each passing day through over all these years...
"What have I become? What have I done with my life to this point." Looking back, now I realize, all this time I've been fooling myself. Now it is too late.
I don't have time to anything else if not find relief on the click and the combustion of the dark dust. Trepanation by my own making. THe only good deed from myself to this screwed up world of broken shadows.
You should, as well, take a deep and look gaze upon this mirror without denying what you see in there, for I am of your making and you are broken equally. If you doubt, go there now and look and think...
Copyright © The First Born The First Forgotten | Year Posted 2013
Upon a dead mound of rocks,
Approached a man, a horse,
With armored chest and visored face:
Well-shielded all across.
Looking back, he gestured motion
Then there was a shout
Of thundering voices in a parley--
Hark! A battle roust...!!
On and on went blade and sword:
Smote against smote;
The same action was followed as if,
The kill was conn'd by rote...
Insane, the enemy on which they charged,
Was forced to run amok;
A blow here and a blow there,
Death ceased those with less luck...
All at once--all was shaken,
All was left asunder;
Disaster had struck this land of dread,
Now all was left in plunder...:
No more of the smiling parched faces,
Covered in sandy gear;
No more were there happy looks--
None happiness left to bear...
They'd made a sudden chance
On those men, women and kid;
While none left to mourn askance--
The afterward's left placid...
The dead were being searched for life:
All alive left, were killed;
The loot was being gathered up--
The gathering hands were skilled..
A subtle cry was then heard,
And a hand was with hope raised;
The General turned around that way,
Scanned and sternly gazed...
It was here that he came down--
The horse he did unmount;
He neared the dying soldier's cry,
Then plunged his sword in ground...
A softer moan filled the air,
As steel pierced a mesh;
The bleeding heart bled some more,
They'd met--Blood, Steel, Sand and Flesh...
Copyright © Akash Yadav | Year Posted 2010
This is a story of sharing. This is a story of caring for one another and placing other's needs above our own.
Once upon a time there were two gerbils in a gerbil cage. One gerbil said to the other gerbil, “Hey, wanna go for a stroll on the wheel?”
The other gerbil replied merrily, “Nah. You go first because you haven’t run for quite a while.”
The first gerbil hopped on the wheel and began to run and run and run until he couldn’t run any more. He even became dizzy and almost fell off the wheel. He was so excited to get some good old fashioned rodent exercise, but he just didn't know when enough was enough. Finally he hopped off the wheel and took a rest for a while.
Soon after that the owner of the gerbils came over and said, “HI! “
“How are you two fellas doing in there today?” said the owner with a happy grin.
The two gerbils looked up at him and decided to run on the wheel again just to say thanks to the young boy for taking such good care of them.
The second gerbil hopped up on the wheel first and then after two minutes decided to take a break. Then the first gerbil began to jog merrily on the wheel again. It was like gerbil heaven in the cage and the two friends continued to take turns all throughout the day. They even helped each other take turns at the water container too.
The young boy who owned the gerbils wondered what it was like to be a gerbil as he sat there most of the afternoon. He wondered if he could survive all cooped up in a glass cage too.
There is a moral to this story. There really is!
The moral is you never know what you are getting yourself into when you live in a gerbil cage.
The second moral is that even in the smallest environments you can learn to live in harmony with one another and peace can prevail. It takes effort and it takes a BIG HEART too!
Copyright © Gwendolen Rix | Year Posted 2015