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Ode Places Poems | Ode Poems About Places

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Details | ABC | |

Ode to a smelly man

Sweeny Smith, and Dizzy May.

Lauren County grand motel
It’s a weird old place to be
I used to go there quite a lot
It really pleasured me
To know that nothing’s what it seems
It’s a scary kind of place
Where one meets the dregs of life
And none there have much grace.

There’s Sweeny smith, he’s big and strong
And he’s a scary guy
He really doesn’t like the world
And no one knows quite why
They Say his father dropped him when
He was a tiny lad
And now the man is not himself
Most people think he’s mad.

Now Sweeny, he is quite a man
But he hasn’t learned a lot
But most they can put up with him
Though one thing he is not
He’s not the cleanest of the men
Who live at that Motel
And though folk try to like the man
They hate old Sweeny’s smell.

One day the others got old Sweeny
And put him in a tub
They got a great big scrubbing brush
And gave him such a scrub
Now Sweeny did not like this much
And he caused such a stir
With people flying round the room
Such a frenzy did occur.

Then Dizzy May came on the scene
And Sweeny loved her so
He wanted her to stay with him
He would not let her go
Old Dizzy, She quite liked the man
But she didn’t like his smell
So she came up with a little plan
And she did Sweeny tell

‘Now look here Sweeny, here’s the deal
If you really love me so
Then you must take a bath each day
Or out the door you’ll go‘.
Now Sweeny didn’t like that much
But he loved old Dizzy may
And so he told her lovingly
‘I’ll take a bath each day‘.

And now the people look at Sweeny
With a different kind of air
Cause when he’s with his Dizzy May
You can smell them everywhere
But it is such a lovely smell
Of the sweetest kind of flowers
And now When Sweeny walks on past
There’s none that from him cower.

18 June 2013 @ 1635hrs.


Details | Ode | |

Free as the wind Ode to native American Indians

Oh how I wish
I could set free
the native American Indian
with pride and dignity
taking them back
across the great open plains
to their sacred home
in the lush green vallies
where buffalo are plentiful
and roam
so the Indians can live in peace
one with nature once more
where the eagles soar
setting them free as the wind
wild untameable as a magnificent stallion
running toward the setting sun.





Peter Dome.copyright.2012.


Details | Ode | |

Outrider, Churchill Downs

Outrider early morn,
When training hours are borne,
They are the needed arm,
Sun, cold, wind, rain or storm,

Outrider in the sun,
Whose work is never done,
Where horses on the run,
Keep bettors having fun,

Outrider in the cold,
Ones with hearts so bold,
Their stories often told,
Of skillful ways they rode,

Outrider in the rain,
Sha'n't wait the weather wane,
Is there to help again,
When loose ones run insane,

Outrider in the wind,
An utmost needed friend,
May everywhere they wend,
Such godspeed be with them,

Outrider in the night,
No fear, no fame, less light,
Night racing at its height,
Make safe the riders plight,

Outrider by and by,
Whether wet or weather dry,
They heed the riders cry,
They're the best, we can't deny,
Many "Thanks" we horsemen reply.


Details | Couplet | |

My Ode to the Netherlands

Oh lovely Netherlands, you are now my second home.
You leave me thrilled and enchanted where ever I roam.

I smiled when floating down streets made from the sea,
Touring on charming glass covered canal boats with glee.

There’s beauty in the coolness of a windswept day,
As I rode the wind on my bicycle and joyously flew away.

Then I set out to visit famous paintings I was shown.
Each lovely museum has a quaint charm all its own.

One famous museum displayed art of Vincent van Gogh.
It has a cool theatre inside, most tourists don’t know.

I just had to visit Den Haag’s St. Mauritius to view
Vermeer’s “Girl with a pearl earring” and other art too.

I toured through Madame Tussaud’s Wax museum happily. 
Johnny Depp and George Clooney were there waiting for me!

Oh lovely gardens of Keukenhof, my time’s worth BEST spent.
I’ll never forget your bright tulip hues with their heavenly scent.

Hartelijk bedankt oh lovely Netherlands, land of the free. 
Alstublieft, alstublieft I beseech you, don’t forget me.

April 22, 2014

*Hartelijk bedankt - heartfelt thanks
*Alstublieft – please


Details | Bio | |

Solitude: To Yoda, An Ode

Green bark a prism creates,
Feel the pull of earth, you must.

Rotates, a slime of endless hates,
Can hold me not, this world’s crust.

Friendship’s ties, isolation Deflates,
Succumbs, my spaceship, to bitter rust.

Mist, my soul forever permeates,
Lift-off, booms the rocket’s thrust.

My spirit when light returns, elates,
Swamps swell, swallowed hope’s swirling dust.

Trapped, I am, until student from fate
Arrives to learn; Cloud City or bust.


Details | Dodoitsu | |

MY ODE TO THE NETHERLANDS

The Netherlands     the lowlands
beckon with serene beauty
Old cobbled streets and towns to
its moss covered shores

Wadden Sea     chilled blue hues
Waves lapping at mudflats on
Frisian Islands     exposed
bare-footed forays

Colors thaw from long winters
Landscape blooms lush orchid    pink
Temptation swells with newly
whispering flowers

Woodland breezes carrying
scents of hospitality
Hazelnut cookies offered
with genuine smiles


March 22, 2014


Details | Ode | |

LAKE OF THE WOODS

LAKE OF THE WOODS

As I sit here gazing at my view of this magnificent lake I feel inspired, and simply genuine as a human being.

It is a cool April day, very sunny with a more than gentle breeze coming through my window.
The brown grass in a few weeks will be anxious to turn a velvet green after a little
more heat, and many more raindrops.

The birch tree beside my window is patiently waiting to produce its foliage
It is a peaceful time, and a gentle time on this late Saturday afternoon.
The seagulls play in the air and welcome me to their view.

May nothing upon this earth interrupt God's beauty of this place, and may the serenity of Lake of the Woods forever rest in peace.


Lynn Barany


Details | Ode | |

Ode to an acre of land and the building that stands there

Tall and pure oasis 
So much has changed
You remain constant and lovely 
Gentle, morning green grass
Breaks like waves, laps at the shores
Of white, gray, and yellow stones
Towering above me, silent and sure 
Chiseled marble, granite spires, oak
Wrought iron, your scent is old 
A familiar volume I keep close to me
The reflections in your pools
Still glass, not a leaf disturbs 
Irises cling to your walls 
The distance beyond you sways 
Spreading lazily into shade trees 
Sun-tinted pastures and weathered fences 
I walk with reverence, still, after so long
Your ground is my sanctuary
It houses my past 
I am a child forever in front of you


Details | Ode | |

SEND A LAND-CRAFT TO THE PLANET OF THE POOR

Atlantis, the last of the spacecrafts, left this exterior of world
For the scientific expeditions and to discover something new.
Such heroic spacecrafts search new planets, aliens and herald
New discoveries to us that delude our conscience like the dew.

Send no more spacecrafts to search Aliens (even if these exist)
But send some Land-crafts to the Planet of the Poor, this Earth.
The Poor wait, starved and neglected, with an empty open fist
Where to born as destitute is a Curse and cursed is every birth.

A single gram of meal for an Astronaut costs more, yes, more
Than the whole year cost of a poor man who lives to struggle.
Send a Land-craft, at least, to this unexplored planet of poor,
You will discover luminescence of God in their simple smile.


Details | Ode | |

Cacti

You scrape a living in a harsh barren land, 
never ceasing the hope, 
that rain will finally come.
Covered with spines, you brace, and wait out every storm, 
yet bearing fruit, just those few days of the year.
You bring color to the desert, ever reaching to the heavens.
Brushing off dismemberment, 
a new shoot where a severed limb once sprouted.
Seemingly the giant of the wasteland, 
but often, merely a small potted plant.
Knowing full well that the next day may very well be your last.
The scorch of the noonday sun blazes down,
drying, burning, razing to the ground,
what has clung desperately to life.
But still, the Cacti, endure...


Details | Free verse | |

Ode to Mastic

I walk down Mastic Road
And look into the open yards
Where grass grows
Taller than houses.
Flowers hang down
From branches of decrepit trees,
Singing off key praises
To the grimy streets
Where children pass
In sync
With heroin junkies.

Time can be devastating,
And ugly things have a way
Of getting uglier.

Boarded windows
Outnumber houses.
Down at the end
Of Cranberry Drive,
The low tide stinks
Of high manure
And the beady eyes
Of violent crack heads
Scare away the sane.

The annual town fair
Has given up on St. Jude's church.
There are no Indians
At the Indian Reservation.
Teenagers walk through old trails
And graveyards
With 40oz. beers.
They stumble and laugh
As if William Floyd's estate
Were nothing but weary shadows
Waiting to be violated.

What has happened to this town?
How long will it stand
Corruption,
Disorder,
And guilty association?

Where there are weaknesses,
There are vulnerabilities,
Open to suggestion,
Open to attack,
And we are failing.


Details | Ode | |

DARLING DEAR

...a darling dear of time is when the  tick-tock, of the clock stops, during a dancing wind chimes rendition of just how invisible things move me, to write, darling dear a rhyme, 

the peak of a mountain top experiencing, 

...alive,
the soul

O' darling dear

a love letter,
a rhythm,

a liberty,

just one of those things that
inspires,

of the everlasting.


Details | Ode | |

New Orleans, Louisiana: aka The Big Easy

What's go great about New Orleans, Louisiana, is that of its jazz music and its voodoo culture. The city has been known as "The Big Easy" since the 1800s. It seems that all of the tourists from across the United States have considered New Orleans their favorite vacation spot. There's always a Mardi Gras every day, we've got people throwing beads at each other, jazz musicians playing their instruments (the saxophones, trumpets, etc.), and people dress in costumes every single day. But what's so great about New Orleans, Louisiana, most of all is that when spring breakers come to the city for spring break, even when they're still going to college. Everybody knows that the Big Easy is also known for its Cajun cooking, especially when the chefs are known for making a lot of jambalaya, gumbo, and a lot of Cajun foods. And what's so great about New Orleans, Louisiana, is when MTV was there, especially when the MTV network executives had been recording episodes of "The Real World:" one back in 2000, the other was back in 2010. New Orleans, Louisiana, is the strongest city in America, even though it was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina back in August 2005. But the famous street best known by New Orleans, Louisiana, most of all is the French Quarter and and one of New Orleans' favorite landmarks is the St. Louis Cathedral. And the New Orleans Arena and the Louisiana Superdome are home to the New Orleans Hornets (NBA-National Basketball Association) and the New Orleans Saints (NFL-National football League). Even the late Louis Armstrong was from the city. Well, I hope to go to New Orleans, Louisiana, one day. And if the City of New Orleans were to stay on the map for a long time, it's going to be like a Mardi Gras on a Saturday night and Fat Tuesday in the afternoon.


Details | Ode | |

myrrh marred marinas

myrrh marred marinas and goose-stepped geese 
set sapphire to salacious rhythm under the absent sun… 
a fantastical flamenco curtailed caustic cues, 
nine-balled eighths shot straight to the soul, 
pool for the favelas, thought for the fools… 


Details | Free verse | |

Ode to Small Birds

A shiver of Appalachia
superfine sugar of maple
windblown through the spine
tingling in a burst of aortic air
Inhaled as though fresh but by
the mountains rendered spent
the slightest reminder of
organic perpetuation fiercely painful
and entirely disembodied, each moment
blanketed by eternity and the hereafter;
primordial yet ethereal, a shadowy glimmer
of final destiny.
(While) in the treetops, the heron and the wren
speak peacefully as they observe
the rising of the sun.

--
For Lydia Davis and Susan McKeown


Details | Ode | |

"THE GIRL WHO : JUST PUSHED PLAY"(ode to Aerosmith music)

Well, this giddy little girl was tired of the SAME OLD SONG AND DANCE; she said I gotta get 
rid of the MONKEY ON MY BACK, and find someone to TAKE ME TO THE OTHERSIDE...where 
KINGS AND QUEENS are LIVIN ON THE EDGE...So I can  taste the SWEET EMOTION,..learn 
how to DRAW THE LINE and LET THE MUSIC DO THE TALKING...
 
  So, as she started on her PERMANENT VACATION the idea was to KISS HER PAST 
GOODBYE....though it was NOBODY'S FAULT she knew she had to FLY AWAY FROM HERE...
 
  The LAST CHILD of a bunch counting five, she had to do WHAT IT TAKES to stay alive...So 
with just a LICK AND A PROMISE and her LIGHT INSIDE she WALKED ON DOWN with a 
THREE MILE SMILE.
 
 
  She came upon a BLIND MAN they call UNCLE SALTY who saw her CRYIN and said I'll show 
you the way to your MAMA KIN... as they traveled on she began to CHIP AWAY THE 
STONE...and put all her SEASONS OF WITHER  behind her.
 
  Finally arriving to find MOTHER POPCORN who blessed her with this sound advice: 
 
  Take the long path my JADED one, past the HANGMAN JURY and down to the FARM...WALK 
ON WATER and realize that there is NO SUPRISE... though there may be RATS IN THE 
CELLAR there is always CHEESE CAKE in your eyes.
 
  Now she rides the TRAIN THAT KEEPS ROLLIN with the LORD OF THE THIGHS hoping they 
can COME TOGETHER in the SUNSHINE of the MOVIE  and DREAM ON here inside their 
AVANT GARDEN !


Details | Ode | |

HIS WEALTH 2

our children dacing
dacing at the sight of lighted bulbs
like when the eclipse occured
but their hope dashed

but his wealth  is intact
for his greatest grand children
children that are more equal
more equal than the others

our mouths now salivates
on seeing mere nuts
like dogs for bones
bones of our lost sons

sons last seen on april
april of the pools
pools of ballots
ballots of inec

our stomach now speak
speak like the dogs
dogs that came beyond the sea
but they have learnt
learnt to look
look since their demands were not meet

our youths now play in moonlight
play games in the sand
games out of fustration
fustration  due to lack of job

our graduates now employed
employed in barrow pushing company plc
with first class honours
obtained from war front

our universities now battle fields
our wards soliders
only to come home
with paper to prove it

all their hopes in it
in the designed paper
paper that cannot feed
even the fetus in the woman

they made him believe them
them that are beyond the sea
that his wealths are safe
though they beautify their land with it

he knew not that the value of  
his wealth has been used
used to tare their roads
used to build schools
used to build hospitals
used to make things better
used to empower their people
used to make them what they claim
those beyond the sea

though his wealth are safe
it have generated hundred times
to say the least, its worth
he claims to be rich,

the cock that crew
the dogs that bark
the cricket that creaks
the youths that riots
the children that cries

all are saying in Unison
wake up and behave
like a black though are
for our blood flows in you

let them know that we have an origin
our origin so strong
our strenght so wisely use
our wisdom cannot be decieved

wake up and take from them
the wealth they took from us
wake up and suprise them
and make our homes the dream land

the dream land of our fathers
those that fought till sleep came
and those that still wait for sleep to emerge

wake up and let them know
that our wealth we can manage
to make our homes eden
the eden our fathers lived in

For our tribes are stong
as strong as the lion
the lion accros the equator
our home the heart of Africa


Details | ABC | |

Ode To Everything We Take For Granted

We all know what living is
We all had our lives given to us.
On a silver platter, a road for life mapped out for us,
but we aren't always serious
about the people near and dear to us,
because we're usually delirious about the life we take for granted.

When we have roofs over our heads
and sheets on our bed 
then how come on the streets people
are frozen with defeat and have to compete for some food.

How can we watch people's lives fall when they stand against a wall with a sign?
No use at all, praying to god as their pride crumbles.

We watch them stumble with their heads down low and nowhere to go and I think,
Where is the kindness planted?
Why do we take our lives for granted?

How could we stoop so low while we live in houses they have nowhere to go
- couldn't we lend them something...
Oh no, one person could make a difference if they spoke out loud
show their faces to the crowd.
A difference could be made
all of us could be of aid.

So dear reader I hope you see
the message that coming from me
and as I've gone on and almost ranted
Why do we take our lives for granted?!


Details | Rhyme | |

Ode of Rain and Veil

She’s the princess of the world of silence.
Existing outside our normal human touch,
She sees every good, bad, deed we do.
She passes no judgment, just perseverance.
Realizing this world has choice, as such.
Caring not what we decide, or even a clue.
Her soul was guided by plain experience.
Her mind unrivaled, and new very much,
Her name, Rain; with eyes of light blue,
Lips that glimmered, true, effervescence,
Her name was given from her first touch.
Upon the day she was born, it came anew.
Christening with name in natures balance,
Her destiny preordained in gentle touch.
Who would win her heart, capturing dew?
Dew, one of her two faithful acquaintances,
They chatted in a language, Double Dutch.
Mist, the second, now you know of the two.
Stallions, white twins, with no ambivalence,
Only she could speak, hear, revealing crutch.
No other could tell differences in her crew.
One to be her prince in adoring excellence,
Must win confidence of dew in his touch,
No mistake, no second chance for woo.
Many have tried to no avail in adolescence.
Only one pauper’s son left to offer such.
One chance to know, to choose right skew,
His mind, unconsciously knew adherence.
When he prepared his choice, a quick clutch,
His choices correct, all others they bid adieu.
Her companion was chosen, forever attendance.
He rode mist, she road dew, in blissful touch
His heart and soul was, sincere, more than true
Princess and pauper together, rode into silence.
Peace prevailed in their land, never violence.
Princess Rain, now Prince Veil road in balance.



Written for

Sponsor Constance La France ~ A Rambling Poet ~ 
Contest Name Rain, The Story 
Written by cecil Hickman


Details | Couplet | |

ODE TO THE MEMORY MAKERS

Do you want to hear a story, perhaps an anecdote or two . . .
There is a place to do it, when life caves in on you.

There is a group of people who share their lives today . . .
I found them only by happy circumstance, as I was traveling this way.

They get together once a month, to tell tales of their past . . .
Each one in their particular way have stories that will last.

Each one could talk for hours on end, and there would be no lulls . . .
For the times and places they have been, are etched upon their souls.

Their pleasure in remembering is a joy to all who hear . . .
We like to listen to the tales they tell, they give us all a cheer.

The lives they have led, the people they've known, the places they've been to . . .
Are celebrated with us each month, as if we'd been there too.

The moments in time that in our hasty lives, we often will forget . . .
Are cherished now as memories, especially the ones we seem to fret.

Memories, I know, are not for us alone and need to be shared . . .
Even the ones we don't want to think on, the ones that made us scared.

The stories they share with us are not just a reason for rhyme . . .
But I wanted each of them to know, how much I enjoy this time.

Because of them, I have remembered so many things of my own past . . .
Times that I'd forgotten, but have come back to me at last.

The darkest corners of memory are brightened by their chat . . .
I, for one, know I will always be grateful for that.

Our thought are put in new perspective - even the darkest ones we save . . .
But however dark and grim they are, as memories they behave.

To all the MEMORY MAKERS present and past who grace us all this way . . .
This rhyme is for you, "Thank You" for sharing your lives with us, past, present, and today.


Details | Ode | |

Politics And Politicians

The good is evil and the evil is good;
The omen is clear,yet,no one reads,
The signal is up, still no one heeds,
There is but one use of power,
It is to save people,
But all we hear of power is trouble,
Everyone wants to get and use it,
They want to gain popularity,
Winning elections a neccesity,
Campaigns all exaggerations,
Their evil deeds no explanation,
Well-wishers they are yet to woo,
Birds chatter where they woo,
Birds chatter where they coo,
The desire to be famous is an attempt,
Forgetting that familiarity breeds contempt;
Speeches are delivered in lying tongues,
Manifestoes in dying souls,
People are suffering,children are dying,
Still,they're obstinate and blind,
Passing frrom deception to deception,
And to final illusion,
Host in the wonder of their own greatness.



Details | Ode | |

L33tsp3@k

T3chn0-she-g33k
Quaruple click
f@st r3action
X-hairs
Pwn3d monst3r
ch@irspin 0f vict0ry
l33tsp3@k


Details | Ode | |

SHAKESPEARE'S LEGACY

Desire make me flee to England's shore,
to Stafford where Shakespeare wrote
sonnets by candlelight and moonbeams;
let me open the tall, wooden front door,
to see him in that corner weaving a thought,
swiftly turning them into theatrical schemes!


Ah, he weeps for a past tragedy he witnessed, 
making those tears flow on clean sheets
that leave him heartbroken and drenched in tears!
Oh, those sad moments seem to disappear
as he dreams of unforgotten faces he loved...
and many say he didn't feel joy but fear!


Shakespeare's spirit is not a common phantom whose voice can't
be heard everywhere it rumbles...listen attentively, don't fret!
Glance at his pensive face, read the inspirational words of any play
he's writing on paper for all to ponder in their own, persuasive way!


Details | Ode | |

One lonely Little Lady eating her ice cream

Everywhere people there
I stopped to look at an old lady fair
She was only alone
Licking her ice cream from a crunchy sweet cone
Sitting and enjoying her treat
While many a men around sweep their young ladies off their feet
Nobody came to claim her
Just enjoying what she was having
Not bothering to get up from her chair
My eyes wept for her because she had not a gentle man beside her
We all come and go while the rest of her generation starts to slow
Alas,my friend,they are soon forgotten and are cast out to the wild winds
Everytime that I would come to this shopping mall
My eyes would peer at an old mistress small
Not even a small collie or pup for a companion
Just a little lady enjoying her treasured ice cream


Details | Rhyme | |

Ode To The Mosh Pit!

Lights flashing, people clashing
Arms and legs flying everywhere
People laughing, having fun
Dancing without a care
Feeling exhausted, want to rest
Have to find a chair
Can’t see the band because I have to stand
It isn’t fair!
Wait a minute, a gap at the front just opened up
Got to move fast, got to hurry up
If I want to get in there
Now my eyes are hurting from the glare of the lights
But being this close to the band is such a thrilling delight
Seeing them jumping around, hyping up the crowd is such an awesome sight!
Let’s hope they keep the crowd rocking into the night
As they sing their last song
For the final encore
I feel sad
I’d waited so long to see them
But I’m so glad I went along
And in a couple of years, they’ll be back once more!


Details | Free verse | |

Ode to Mount Washington

Standing atop this massive mountain I feel at peace
I see every detail of the city
The city where my heart lies
The city where my heart beats
The rivers flow and come together in a sweet phenomenon 
The air is crisp here, as always
Everything
Everything
In view
No one else can grasp
The awe standing here
Here over the city
Seeing it all
In bustling beauty.


Details | Ode | |

SHAKESPEARE'S LEGACY

Desire make me flee to England's shore,
to Stafford where Shakespeare wrote
sonnets by candlelight and moonbeams...
Let me open the tall front door,
to see him in that corner weaving a thought,
swiftly turning them into theatrical schemes!
Ah, he weeps for a past tragedy he witnessed, 
making those tears flow on clean sheets
that leave him heartbroken and drenched in tears!
Oh, those sad moments seem to disappear
as he dreams of unforgotten faces he loved...
and many say he didn't feel joy but fear!
Shakespeare's spirit is not a phantom whose voice can't
be heard everywhere it roams...listen, don't fret!
Try to glance at his pensive face, read the words of that play
he's writing on paper for all to ponder in a persuasive way!


Details | Free verse | |

Ode To Marla Ruzicka

Died in Baghdad, April 17, 2005

Nothing can stop her!
Not a  rocket
or an improvised
explosive devise
in spite 
of her untimely
death.
Just 28
and amongst 
the Greats.
Unyeilding campaigner
with unwavering faith
in something greater
than all the grenades
in the U.S. arsenal.
The greatness of love
of truth
eloquently spoken
by this petite woman.
Yet, a Goliath
in humans.
Her work
the simple act
of counting victims.
and compansate.

Marla dared 
to ask
who were 
the 100,000 plus
innocent civilians
that have died
in Iraq.
The sisters, brothers
fathers, mothers
babies
caught in the crossfire.
They had names
faces and dreams.

We sing to you
dear Marla.
There is nothing higher
than the acknowledgment
of life
and the strife
the grieving
the loss
the pain. 
Marla sweet angel
your work
remains
the most dignified
the most humane
of endeavors
in this
seemingly
overwhelming
insane world.
And no one 
not the president
and his mongers
not the apologist of war
can ever
take that away.



Dean Walker

Marla was the young founder of the nonprofit organization Campaign for innocent Victims in Conflict. To learn more about Marla or show your support visit her website at www.civicworldwide.org


Details | Ode | |

A TOTAL STRANGER'S ADMIRATION

His legendary name will be immortalized
in America's books of history,
and his bravery and heroism 
always remembered by us:
the biggest heart driven
by an immense generosity!

When rushed into the thick smoke,
his searching eyes shone 
even brighter than the clear morning;
the danger ahead
could not keep him
from saving people trapped in strairways,
people who wailed and waited
in the tower's darkness!

He left behind an indelible legacy,
to let all see what he truly loved;
to inspire them with motivation
and he never was afraid to show affection,
or his unique side of humanity:
that's what he fervently believed!

John,even this total stranger
proudly calls you by name
for having been so brave;
a mother, a father, a son,a sister or friend
who didn't lose anyone, because of your deed,
remembers you in prayer:
and I, a total stranger,related by blood,
praise you in words that'll never grow old!

John,you may be invisible to all,
but your presence is still felt by us;
your handome sons and lovely wife grieve,
but their grief has turned
into something wonderful:
a duty that has been fulfilled
by your call and sacrifice;
a destiny willed by God!

If everyone judges an individual only
by what one has achieved in a lifetime:
you were one of the truest heroes of our time,
who has left his mark on this twentieth century;
and if anyone doubts you did all that,
your devotion can testify and reject that!



Details | Ode | |

HOW WONDERFUL ...

Ever since humans sought the supernatural,
confusion seemed bizarre and hysterical;
within hills and mountains they erected their temples,
sang their praises to appease
their gods, who were thought to be angry at times...
what they were trying to accomplish
was to feel the presence of a spirit which granted their wishes!

How wonderful is the faith of true believers,
and they don't build cathedrals
as far as the unreachable sky;
the God they're searching for..is as close
as the depth of their faithful heart!
How loud are their voices,at sunrise, that ascend 
like seagulls...to transform themselves
into a celestial chorus with a crescendo...
that draws them closer to a sky of indigo!   

In the streets of  this Babylonian craze,
religion is without atonement, 
but there's plenty of defiled grace
to be consumed as the exquisitive 
food of a privileged banquet...
where a doubter is rediculed by laughs and condemned;
human,human race where does God live?...
And does He approve of your false zest? 

How wonderful is the faith of true believers,
clinging to that sublime hope, rising from light,
to reach Heaven without having to go through Hell;
how humble is the aspiration of the true faithful...
not relying on astrology,avoiding all kinds of deceit!
Be watchful and shun pretentiousness...
worship Him truthfully and assert your claim;
nobody but you can decide what's right!