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Social Nostalgia Poems | Social Poems About Nostalgia

These Social Nostalgia poems are examples of Social poems about Nostalgia. These are the best examples of Social Nostalgia poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

Sometimes

Sometimes I am happy, sometimes I am sad.
Sometime I sing, sometimes I stammer

Sometimes I dance on the music of my soul, Sometimes I dance on the fingers of 
one single person
Sometimes I expect so much from others; sometime I myself can’t meet my own 
expectations.

Sometime I make fun of others and feel bad later, sometimes life makes fun of me 
and I smile
Sometime I win and sometimes I lose, sometimes I don’t even understand whether I 
won or lost.
 
Sometimes I laugh as if whole world is with me,
Sometimes I cry as if I am alone wandering in a strange land

Sometimes I give up so easily
Sometimes I work so hard that no one can stop me to achieve what I want

Sometimes I am dynamic person, who wants to change the world,
And sometimes I am a kid who expects anyone to embrace him tightly.

Sometimes I feel happy about the achievement of my enemy
Sometime I feel dejected with my own success.

Sometimes I help others and show them the right path
Sometimes I feel totally helpless and don’t know where to go

Sometimes I ask god to please give my past back
Sometimes I pray to show me the way forward


Life is composed of SOMETIMES and I just flow with that.
U admit or not but you are also sailing on the same boat.
So join me and enjoy it EVERYTIME as SOMETIMES life is very short!


Details | Rhyme | |

THEY DON'T BITE LIKE THEY USED TO

He sat there in his fav'rite chair, a blanket 'cross his lap 
And covering his snow white hair was his old fishing cap. 
I knew he could not talk to me since suffering the stroke, 
But still I sensed he could relate to ev'ry word I spoke. 
"I went and wet a line today ... down where you caught that cod. 
The biggest one you'd landed yet and though it was my rod 
I reckon he was yours all right ... but cod are far and few.  
They don't bite like they used to dad.  They don't bite like they used to." 
 
"The algae's building up again and stuffing up the creeks, 
Though at long last we had a fresh, the first in flam’in weeks. 
Pulled twenty stinking euros in, along with one old dew, 
But they had sores all over them, though still that's nothing new. 
The cotton farmers cry, "Absurd!  It can’t be from our spray." 
Perhaps the fish have just got aids from turning flam'in gay. 
Its getting pretty sad all right, but what can one bloke do.   
They don't bite like they used to dad.  They don't bite like they used to." 
 
"McDonalds seems to be the go and good old KFC 
And eating yellow-belly is a flam'in rarity.   
Your grandson won't go fishing as he says it's just for nerds 
And when I take the missus we just end up having words. 
I really miss our fishing trips, your company was swell 
And by the mist there in your eyes you miss them dad as well. 
I heard you sold your tinny mate, your outboard motor too.  
They don't bite like they used to dad.  They don't bite like they used to." 
 
They're introducing fingerlings and giving that a shot, 
But duckweed takes the oxygen which kills the flam'in lot. 
The droughts have had their toll as well and one thing that's for sure; 
I can't see in the future dad a remedy or cure. 
So mum's ducked down to Salty's mate and I would dare a punt 
She'll come back with a feed of fish before you say Rex Hunt. 
I guess we'll have to wash it down with some of your home brew. 
They don't bite like they used to dad.  They don't bite like they used to." 


Details | Quatrain | |

The Owl and the PusyCat Sail

Together the Owl and the PusyCat were married
Then again sailed out over the deep blue seas
Searching forever for the great Land of Nod,
To the place where they could find true peace.
True peace, true peace… Where they could find true peace.

The love that twined forever within their hearts
They sought throughout all the wonderous lands
Going to the place where they would live in peace,
A place where true peace, rules and lives in the hearts of the land.
The land, the land… Where true peace lives in the heart of the land.

Alas, the love of the heart, though truly not easy to find…
Is easier to find than the love of peace, found throughout the land.
So it’s said they will continue to sail, until that day comes true,
And when they land for the final time, will be up to me and you.
Me and you, me and you… That day will be up to me and you.



Details | I do not know? | |

Tishmandu

Tishmandu
 
My eyes can see
That the sand is like sea
And it stretches to the end of my mind
On a ship set to sail
with four legs and a tail
Tishmandu I set out to find
 
Now the wind is of sand
and can lend a hand
in tearing the flesh from your bone
So your head you keep wrapped
your snaps keep snapped
and you never travel alone
 
The heat at midday
is to kill and waylay
if the body and soul are not one
So you pray to the east
and prepare for slim feast
begging passage under full sun
 
Caravan of the seed
born on camels that breed
in an endless march between wells
Over lost count of dunes
under God and full moons
blessing passage with incense and bells
 
At the end of the day
when gold turns to grey
and the stars brighten the skies
A device is brought forth 
to determine true north
and the path where Tishmandu lies
 
On the fortieth morn
pressing lips to the horn
a signal beckons us wake
Leaving water behind
on a course now refined
the final leagues we must take
 
Tishmandu is a place
where a white mans face
has never been seen or allowed
But the people have need
and my service agreed
in a land under sky without cloud
 
Like feathers of blue
in the distance I view
the flags on top of the walls
Though my limbs are worn
my very fabric is torn
I move towards Tishmandu halls
 
At last in the shade
a walled shelter is bade
I meet with the maker of rules
A service I bring
but to rules I must cling
or a tortures price must be paid
 
Twenty days and seven
in the passes of heaven
I treated the sick and the lame
With rules on my mind
the medicines I grind
The devil of Tish for to tame

As I washed the sick
and avoided blunt stick
the God of the desert did smile
For the people made well
in this fortified hell
where spirit is subject to trial
 
In the end I am paid
for the journey I made
and the healing and medicine new
On my camel back
salted meats in my pack
I Bid farewell to Tishmandu
 
RAMA, Ink


Details | Verse | |

Apollo

I never meant that much to you,
   Though from Olympus' heights you came;
Yet I gave you my mortal love,
   While you played your immortal game.

Although my heart I freely gave,
   I never meant that much to you;
You wooed me with your golden harp
   On fragrant grass 'neath skies of blue --

And when you scaled the heights once more,
   Did you think I would slowly die?
I never meant that much to you --
   So why do you now shake and sigh?

Oh, how the golden god has changed!
   Your sun-kissed hair has lost its hue;
And I have wed a mortal man --
   I never meant that much to you.


Details | Light Poetry | |

FLIRTY DANCING

valse,valet a,highland fling
viola,fiddle,music string;
minuet,pavane rondeau
tripping lightly to & fro.

flirty dancing,fancy free
quick-step and ladies excuse-me;
fox trot and last waltz slow,
holding close,as passions grow.


Details | Personification | |

HipHop Is dead

Hip-Hop is dead
I can’t feel the throb, the devotion, the dedication
I wear all black
Black stilettos, black cut dress, aimed real low
Seductive but simple, I know my place
Beside the King, my sweet deceased Revolutionist 
Rap’s number one supporter, holding the casket with a broken
           S I G H
Someone plays, a radio, across the way
Slick beats drip past the ears to slime the brain
Wet and easy manipulated clay
Media displays wealth and misogyny
50 million dollar chains  
Females addicted to being slapped around
Like China Dolls in half-made    Cl    o   thes
Pose, Shawty and let this crunk beat fill your hips
Purse your lips, Mami, and I’ll let you
Be my accessory
Remember when the revolution was a evolution of the mind
Freestyles match drums in intensity
When freestyles were uncontrolled like the wild brown skin he was in
I felt, loved, Hip-hop in my veins
Let him be the catalyst  for the beating of my heart
I was so in love with his swagger, his love of himself and his people
Hat tipped real       low      to hide the pain

Beat real tight to stop the taint
Of failure and to rise like the dust after a stampede
I’d take Hip-Hop to bed every night
Let him rise and fall like the heaving of my chest
It was so hot I could barely breathe for the intensity overcoming me
The pounding of intellect in my throat
Stroked me from head to toe
And Rocked my ghetto loving soul
And he said things I’ve waited my whole life to hear
play sweetly in my ear
Dreaming of dreams too big
To let fade away
He grew shallow, loving women with hollow heads and thick thighs
Low rides and forgetting what he left at home
Long nights and overtime left me alone
Released hundreds of  artists
Torn between money and the spoken word
His best friends tried to revive what was inside, too late the damage took over
50 Cent arrived with Lil’s, and Young’s and a mess of southern heat
I was there when the light left his eyes
After Dr.Dre’s Chronic
Hip-Hop was Dead 


Details | I do not know? | |

RIP Virginity

Dear Sir, my innocence is gone now, no more fear 
Do you love to **** me again, I am always here. 
I wonder when you taught me how to use a pen, 
I was so into you but my ****** was in pain! 
I was crying; I was too immature to understand
I was turning only 13, I couldn't feel what happened. 
but I promise I never forget what you taught me at the end. 
I begged you to stop and looked into your eyes, 
there was a reflection of a cruel world, that’s  what I deserved!
Don't be afraid, mommy never knows what you did, 
Nobody knows that you made me bleed. 
Dear sir, my innocence is gone with all my tears,
as I had no safe place to hide myself from fears.
Nobody saw anything as your world was so blind! 
having hidden hatred inside, a virgin died. 
Dear sir, time cannot erase your memories, 
time doesn't heal all wounds, that you marked, 
yes, you took my innocence that will be always on my mind.
My innocent world was shattered by your touch
Hope no one ever has to experience such
For all the pain, all the cruelty, thank you very much!


Details | I do not know? | |

South African Freedom Day

freedom day 
(april the 27th 1994)


far too many brave compatriots died

and

flooding rivers of tears were cried

far too many families ripped apart

with

daggers cutting into their heart

the pain is felt still deep today
on this glorious sun-splashed South African Freedom Day

as we pause and remember those who do not remain with us anymore

as we appreciate the fruits that their sacrifice and struggle bore

far too many to count and to name

but we honour them all while we keep burning that eternal flame

...Oliver Reginald Tambo
...Chris Hani
...Solomon Mahlangu
...Prakash Napier
...Yusuf Akhalwaya
...Matthew Goniwe
...Neil Aggett
,,,Ahmed Timol
...Vuyisile Mini
...Hector Peterson
...Babla Saloojee
...Bram Fischer
...Dulcie September
...Sparrow Mkonto

just a few, but so many still nameless

who were brutally cut down
by a racist system that was merciless, and cruelly shameless

we honour you, today
but we remember you each and every day

when we breathe in the air of the freedom that you craved

as we walk the roads of a wounded but healing country that you saved

from itself, for the hate and racism and hushed prejudice of race and gender and religion and sexual persuasion and caste and creed

that you so valiantly fought against, is still with us, as it on fear and ignorance does feed

the odour of racism and hate
of white and black and jew and muslim and hindu and catholic and yellow and brown

is a living parasite that lives and thrives all across this beautiful world, from cities and villages and hamlets, to the smallest rural town

it may become a mark of shame upon us all 

so we have to, today, struggle against and boldly fight

for the sacrifices of the many can never be cheapened, by the polite dinner-table murmurs of hate, try as hard as they might

for if we as a nation, 
a country 
a world 
a people 

one people

are to truly step out of the lashing cold painful rain

we have to continue your struggle

so that your supreme sacrifices may not have been in vain...

and so we say 

'hamba kahle, comrades'

to you who laid your young lives down and slipped away

so that we who remain may in the sunlight and out of the rain live and breathe and stay

in a country, and in a world
where religion and gender and sexual-persuasion and all colourful hues

may mingle and love and laugh and cry together on the sun-filled avenues

so thank you, comrades, for showing us a better path that we must embark on as we shuffle onwards into a brighter tomorrow

away from the hurt of the past, and away from the tears and away from all the sorrow

for the true freedom that we seek now, is the freedom from our own racism, our own prejudices, our own sexism, our own petty hates and bottled-up anger

for therein, lies the fight ahead

for therein, lies the real and growing danger.
Aluta Continua!
Amandla Ngawethu!

The Struggle Continues...


Details | Verse | |

Ding Dong The Wicked Witch is Dead

Globally, miners jubilantly jump for joy
Smiles on the faces of every girl and boy
The grins of a newly opened Xmas toy
Thatcher’s dead.

Trade unionists bounce along the street
Music blaring and the tapping of feet
From nurses to Bobbies still on the beat
Thatcher’s dead.

Street parties announced in the nation
Satan who brought economic inflation
Is deceased, now’s the time for elation
Thatcher’s dead.

Its times like this I’m sad I’m an atheist
And can only shout and wave my fist
And then go to the pub and get pissed
Thatcher’s dead.


Details | Free verse | |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them


Details | Senryu | |

Playground

Kids go down
The slide…they head toward the swings
TIME TO SCREAM!

Free time ends
Their parents want to go home
Frowns exchange 


Details | Haiku | |

The Internet: Return

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!


Details | I do not know? | |

I'm Sorry For Being So Cold

My words may feel so cold,
Yet this feeling of falling and 
Then trying to be so loving
Eventually misleads me to 
Feeling like she or myself 
Is gradually shoving my feelings 
Through an invisible door.

It's all so not worth 
Letting this sorrow corner me in,
My mind is wondering if I'm truly fine with
Having no one special in my own current life.

My reasons for trying to 
Move onwards from there
Were nothing but idealized dreams
Turning into unpleasant realities. 

Who knew that a few days 
After those euphoric moments
I would be realizing that 
The strings of my heart were pulled
By desires so unnecessary for healing 
My own inner strife.

My words may have been so cold,
But it's only because this sorrow I go through
Will always continue beyond tomorrow.

You don't deserve being 
My eternal object of depression,
Yet you are also even taking it 
All too simply to be the object
Of my true love and affection.

My feelings from loving you 
Were absolutely true,
But I now see I was so wrong 
In believing in my own naïve thoughts.
So fleeting was the beautiful 
Rendering of my soul,
Except that no one knew then 
That it was only a game of pretend.

Wanting my first kiss returned, 
Yet again I guess first can mean the worst,
So I guess I'll find someone 
Who will become my second best.
After telling you I can't love you anymore, 
I now feel as if I can finally rest.

My words were only so cold,
Because something in the depths of my heart
Was calling out to be heard.

In the end though I have released myself
From the bittersweet feelings I gained from 
My voice and feelings that once were forsaken.
I'm sorry for being so cold.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Social Norm

Drink the drink, and take the pills, lay on the medication.
But your soul's forever lost to them without persistent dedication.
There's things we've learned, and things we will, to decide us right from wrong.
But your ears are only open, now, to a techno-logic song.
Social norms have bound you tight, then cut you awf'ly deep.
And still your soul beneath the surface begs of you, relief.
You waded in their welcome waters, thought it nice and cool
But now I'm sure you've figured out you're lost in sorrows pool
So take it from who knows you best
Someone who has passed this test:

Before you drift out in the sea And the shore's no longer in your view, I promise that I'll bring you back And if I can't, I'll follow you. Before your legs and arms grow weak And you've passed your final tier, I promise that I'll hold your hand; I promise you I'll still be here. Before your lungs are filled with water And our souls are parted once again, I promise you that you're forgiven; I promise you I'm still your friend. Before you close your sunken eyes Inviting night to kill the day Know your bright was never slight And soon you'll see your way.


Details | Sonnet | |

SUNDAY DINNER A hillbilly sonnet

        SUNDAY DINNER  (Hillbilly sonnet)
Ma's cookin now, so come and set a spell
and you can bet we'll have her Sunday best
before the settin sun, and who can tell
what's on her stove--but it will meet the test.

Can't you just smell that fryin chicken now?
And you must know the gravie's fresh and hot
for pourin on them taters--I allow
a little more than I should have--so what?!?

The butter it just melts on bread so light
to compliment the vegetables we grow,
now if you know a life that's half as right
as this, you'd better make it yours to know.

   And I will say the grace, to thank God for
   what He has give--so He will give us more.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet


Details | Pastoral | |

Truest Love






      ******

    It's truest form
Is to love others'
        - As -
Thee Love Thy-self
      ------
   This is both a blessing
To God and a Blessing
      Worthy to be
Bestowed upon Others'
      ------
   But first seek the
       Kingdom
  Of God
Fore His very word
    Will Absolve Thee


          Poet Author
          Gary Fields


Details | I do not know? | |

A Story My Mother Told Me

someone always told me this with tears in her eyes...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


a wife left South Africa in the 1960’s to join her husband 
who was in exile at the time...

in 1970 the husband was sent by the African National Congress to India to be its representative there...

the husband and wife spent two years in Bombay...

one afternoon the husband fell and broke his leg...

the wife knocked on their neighbour’s door, in an apartment complex in Bombay

the neighbour was an old Punjabi lady...

the wife asked the neighbour for a doctor to see to the injured husband...

a Parsi ‘Bone-Setter’ was promptly summoned...

the husband still recalls his anxiety of seeing ‘Bone-Setter’ written on the Parsi gentleman’s bag...

by the way, the ‘Bone-Setter’ worked his ancient craft and surprisingly for the husband, his broken leg healed quite soon...

but still on that day, while the ‘Bone-Setter’ was seeing to the husband...

the wife and the old Punjabi lady from next door got to talking about this and that and where these new Indian-looking wife and husband were from as their accents were clearly not local...

the wife told the elderly Punjabi lady that the husband worked for the African National Congress of South Africa and had left to serve the ANC from exile...

and that they had left their two children behind in South Africa and that they were now essentially political refugees...

the Punjabi lady broke down and wept uncontrollably...

she told the foreign woman that she too had had to leave her home in Lahore in 1947 and flee to India with only the clothes on her back when the partition of the subcontinent took place and Pakistan was formed and at a time when Hindus from Pakistan fled to India and vice versa...

the Punjabi lady then asked the foreign woman her name...

‘Zubeida’, but you can call me ‘Zubie’...

the Punjabi woman hugged Zubie some more, and the two women, seperated by age and geography, wept, sharing a shared pain...

the Punjabi woman told Zubie that she was her ‘sister’ from that day on, and that she felt that pain of exile and forced migration and what being a refugee felt like...

Zubie and her husband Mosie became the closest of friends with the Hindu Punjabi neighbours who were kicked out of Pakistan by Muslims...

then came the time for Mosie and Zubie to leave for Delhi where the African National Congress office was based...

the elderly Punjabi lady and Mosie and Zubie said their goodbyes...

a year or two later, the elderly Punjabi lady’s daughter Lata married Ravi Sethi and the couple moved to Delhi...

the elderly Punjabi lady called Zubie and told her that her daughter was coming to Delhi to live and that she had told Lata, her daughter that she had a ‘sister’ in Delhi...

Lata and Ravi Sethi then moved to Delhi...

This was in the mid-1970’s...

Lata and Zubie became the closest of friends and that bond stayed true, and stays true till today, though Zubie is no more, and the elderly Punjabi lady is no more...

the son and the husband still have a bond with Lata and Ravi Sethi...

a bond that was forged between Hindu and Muslim and between two continents across the barriers of creed and time...

a bond strong and resilient, forged by the pain and trauma of a shared experience...

and that is why, and I shall never stop believing this, that hope shines still, for with all the talk of this and of that, and of that and of this, there will always be a simple woman, somewhere, anywhere, who would take the ‘other’ in as a sister, a fellow human...

and that is why there will always be hope...
hope in the midst of this and of that and of that and of this...

hope...


(for Lata Sethi's late-mother, who was my mother’s ‘sister’ and who took us all into her heart, and for Lata and Ravi Sethi of Defence Colony, New Delhi)


Details | Free verse | |

Like a thief in the night -Thinking of September 11th

Another morning I got up and my thoughts returned here. Just wanted to put something of
the memory that lingers still today from scenes we saw of September 11th.  Scenes we would
like to but will never and should never forget.  I do not wish to cause further despair to
anyone but if anything bring some hope to those who are suffering safe in the knowledge
that they have the world behind them.  What has happened cannot be undone but with
strength and assistance from those who had the core torn from them as the horrors unfolded
and they watched on in disbelief we can be there for one another.  We can make sure the
memory of this tragic affair lives on, and in doing so help keep our own souls alive and
kicking... in hope all was not in vain, but that we shall learn from it and let the
promise of peace win through.  My heart and thoughts go out to all.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It doesn't matter today
if we build a building of immense height
like North and South towers of World Trade Centre
even if to use as defence system
just as we would have built a castle on a hill
in times gone by - times have changed
New buildings and memorials will now stand
in recognition of who/what was on said land
Their memories will always continue
as will the vision on t.v. all did view
Where minds stood still in disbelief
while strike after strike we all felt grief
Where tears were shed by billions of eyes
War was declared with no defence in skies

It doesn't matter today
we most probably wouldn't even see
as our enemies approached
Like a thief in the night they came
stealing from us that most precious
those whom we loved or cared about

What matters today
is that for all eternity history has been made
Times we cannot change
Broken genealogical lines gone forever
Marks made on the landscape - irreplaceable
Never can anything stand for what was again
Humanity and psychological effect remains
We may not all have lost those known to us
but we stand together shoulder to shoulder
Encircling those that remain
Knowing each one of us had our soul torn
Our eyes darkened by Hells darkest Angels
When none could believe that before their eyes
Planes came crashing through the skies

Out of ashes a phoenix, a nation arises
and with it the world reawakens
We will not sleep but remember
A tragic time when so high a cost was paid
with unknowing souls now recognised
What right to take such brave innocent lives


Details | Free verse | |

Flashbacks Of The 70's

It was Life During Wartime.
People finally became Superfly,
waking up from a Teenage Lobotomy,
having spent too many years Comfortably Numb.

We had to Try and Tear The Roof Off The Sucker,
Walk On The Wild Side,
send a strong message with a Whole Lotta Love,
proving how we still had a Lust For Life-
Let The Good Times Roll,
learning how to Fly Like An Eagle
through Dreams of Changes
before it was too late!

Yes, we were Rock Steady,
hooked on Radar Love,
driving past the Hotel California
in pimped-out Low Rider's.
Taking One Toke Over The Line
of some outdoor Sweet Leaf,
brains filled with Cocaine,
watching the Smoke On The Water
rise up in the pupils of our purple haze.

Imagine if you will,
Riders On The Storm pumping fists in the air,
moving along, never standing still.
My Papa Was A Rolling Stone,
pulled an Ace Of Spades from the deck
held in the quivering paws of a Black Dog-
a Gypsy stumbling through a Bohemian Rhapsody,
always Watching The Detectives
make Trouble for the Pusher Man.

Poor Jimi died in London
before there was Anarchy In The U.K.!
But we kept him alive by trippin' on daisies,
Takin' Care Of Business,
by calming the Bridge Over Troubled Water.
It wasn't about Us & Them anymore....

....no, we were all in this together,
fighting to Stir It Up,
Stayin' Alive
against The Robots and Evil Ways 
of too many War Pigs.

Flashbacks will show how nothing has changed!
Live by the sword, die by the sword-
when will we give peace a chance?



*Used 40 song titles of the 70's (only some of my favs!) to create this :D~


Details | I do not know? | |

WE ARE INDEPENDENCE!

We are Tausug Nation
Defending independence
Free from the enemies
Stood not to get oppressed

Our Nation ruled
Of the country’s independence
Never conquered from then
We shall develop our land

Our country, nation is known
Home of courageous person
Bound only in one faith
Never care of the death

Tumantangis, Dahu peaks of our land
To Bagsak, Sinumaan
And to all the mountains here
Only one God is aimed

Zamboanga, Basilan, North Borneo, Palawan
Centre is in Sulu land
Ruled by the Sultan
From the early point of time

Our nation is united
In the name of faith is complete
Only God is firm
Determined not to get conquered

Land of the pearl garden
Sulu Sea in the world is famous
From the South and North
And East and West

Blood of Martyrs flowed in the vein of the Sug Nation
Fought to defend
Flag rose like Vinta strip
Eternal pledge appeared


Details | Lyric | |

I Don't Want to Leave the Party

The long, long night
Is winding down
From distant rooms
I hear the sound
Of fine old friends
Taking leave
The evening ends
And I believe
The time to follow suit draws near
My heart is tired, but my mind is clear.

The shining lights
Are fading out,
The dawn lies weak
On the walls without
The voices drift
And steal away
As we search for deeper
Things to say
The sands keep flowing through the glass
As present lives become the past.

     - And we all grow old
     - As the Earth spins around
     - As we hold to the love
     - By which we all are bound.

          I don't want to leave the party
          It's always been such fun
          Through all the years and tears and fears
          Feels like it's only just begun.
          I don't want to leave the party
          But I'll follow all my friends.
          Who knows what waits outside the door
          When the magic of our living ends?

The hand that holds
Your glass of wine
Is cracked and aged
As much as mine
The shadows of
Our memories
Are lengthening
Into the seas
Of onward flowing history,
The days once shared by you and me.

The love that lit
Ten thousand nights
Is still alive
And burning bright.
The time we spent
On sharing dreams
Is further now,
Or so it seems.
The lives we built we can't forget,
And no one wants to leave just yet.

     - And we all grow old
     - As the Earth spins around
     - As we hold to the love
     - To which we all are bound.

          I don't want to leave the party,
          We're all having too much fun.
          Yet while smiling we'll still disappear
          Now that the play is closed and done.
          I don't want to leave the party,
          But I'll go, with all my friends
          Who knows what's waiting just outside
          When the spell of living softly ends?


Details | Free verse | |

fearful, fearless


i’m scared.
scared of odd little things:
glass doors,
windows,
leading to the outside world.
paranoia of unexpected guests,
curled under cupboards, and strangers stabbing on sidewalks.
i’m alone in my dark fantasies.

and yet, i’m unafraid.
i crave the reckless life, cheating, binging on drugs and sex and life.
the life where i’m the unknown girl that everyone knows.


Details | Lyric | |

Zoo - Just to Amuse You

One fine day, I planned a visit to zoo
Alone landed amidst the fauna left so few
Treaded merrily on greenery, singing my heart out
Whilst a lion’s scary roar made me shout

‘Ah! Another visitor’, said the lion annoyingly
‘Why should we entertain you?’ said he fumingly
‘What’s the point in wasting your energy and mine?
Making us do the funny acts, do they seem so divine?’

Hearing those words I dared
Reduced the distance, still scared
Said I, ‘Stop fuming King of Jungle, watch out for your age,
Hadn’t I come to visit you, wouldn’t you be bored in your cage?’

‘The answer dwells in your question, silly girl
You humans have no heart of pearls,
The so-called king of jungle imprisoned in cage
Heartthrob of millions I was, at my early age’

‘To meet my family, hope it doesn’t get too late
I need to eagerly meet ‘em all, my cubs, my mate
I still feel them, they are waiting for me
Oh girl! Be kind enough to set me free.’


I couldn’t have done that with all my might
Turned my way, delighted by a peacock’s sight
The multihued beauty was sheltered in a metallic cage
Awe! Gloomy this beauty looked, in distress and rage

‘What is wrong? Do you want to fly?’
It turned around and looked straight at the sky
‘Show me those vibrant feathers, the fan-like crest
Guests would adore seeing you dance at your best’

‘I dance just for my love, my love for rain,
Cool breeze no more likes crossing my lane
Why do I open my feathers without my mate’s presence?
Just to amuse you, I shall do; confined in this fence’

Dumbstruck, I decided to turn my way
Walked ahead in quest of animals happy and gay
There it was! A crazy monkey, flirting and making its choice
Mimicking others and playing around, hear its evil noise

Bouncing, bouncing and dancing, dancing
It ruled as if dungeon’s dominant king
Wow! You look so happy; what’s the reason?
‘Girl! No more fun for you, ‘coz free I’ll be from this prison’.

Two giant men came forward and opened the door
Good Lord! It’ll be free, unkind humans is just animal’s lore!
Monkey screeched, ‘Meet me soon in the nearby forest
Where I meet my pals, play, eat, have fun and rest’

 Happy to see the monkey’s joy, I walked ahead
Across the bushes, saw a van, a huge van in red
Giant men carried animals and dumped in the van
Shocked I was to see the sight and reckoned their plan

Why was my monkey friend inside, for what purpose?
It was clear as I read the van’s name, ‘The Great Royal Circus!’


Details | I do not know? | |

The Nameless - for South Africans of all colours who fought for freedom


The Nameless


Slipping through the sieve of history,

the nameless rest.

Not for the nameless are roads renamed, nor monuments built.

Not for the nameless are songs sung, nor ink spilled.

The nameless rest.

Their silent sacrifice,

quiet ordeal,

muted trauma,

remain interred,

amongst their remains.

The nameless rest.

Not for the nameless are doctorates conferred, nor eulogies recited.

Not for the nameless are honours bestowed, nor homages directed.

The nameless rest.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

in every step that we tread.

They rest within us,

they walk with us,

for their spirit is not dead.


“Your name is unknown, your deed is immortal”
- inscription at The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier WWII in Moscow


Special thanks to my dearest elder sister Tasneem Nobandla Moolla, whose conversations with me about life as a non-white person growing up in pre and post-Apartheid South Africa prompted me to write this dedication to the countless, nameless South Africans of every colour, whose sacrifices and dedication in the struggle against Apartheid tyranny must never be forgotten.


My sister’s middle name ‘Nobandla’ which is an isiXhosa name and means “she who is of the people” was given by her godfather, Nelson Mandela, my father’s ‘best-man who could not be, as Nelson Mandela was unable to-make it to my parent’s wedding as he was in jail at the time in the old Johannesburg Fort. This was the 31st December 1961.


Details | Rhyme | |

Geek Mountain

It started quite some time ago
His name was Pitfall Harry
I learned of bits and algorithms
On a 2600 Atari

And then there came Nintendo
It began my end I think
For I had to rescue Princess Zelda
As a courageous lad named Link

I peered at that screen for hours
Each puzzle, each riddle, each stage
And Gannon was no match for me
My frenzied button rage

The torch then passed to Genesis
And with it Altered Beast
Addicted to those graphics
My life outside had ceased

Compulsion soon would fade
I slowly began to bore
Then Sony created the gamers dream
To brilliant to ignore

Dazzled bye amazing play
lost for a year or two
Acting as an exercise scarecrow
And girl repellant too

So now I have no gaming system
But it seems that my PC
Is the summit of Geek Mountain
And that's where you'll find me.
-------------------------------------------
That last line written years ago
Such games are no longer fun
For Im filled with glee and happy to be
Reaquainted with the sun


Details | Verse | |

Philosophical Poetry Week: Transient Tuesday

I am a misprint,
Ink blot on love,
I remain a maybe
Longing for fact,
No speck of lint,
A hand in glove.
Thunder; a baby
Will only react

When you etch
Parallel clouds,
Whistling on cue
To a dead town.
Dream a sketch
Of silent crowds
Becoming you,
This boiling crown

Chews thought
Into flagellation.
Holes in the walls
To spy through,
Seeking a sort
Of bricked-up sun.
A heaven of halls,
All leaving you.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Face of Foul

July 30th 2010

Face of Foul

Clever thy is or thy once was?
On a clear day, I did indeed pray.
So then, the clouds flew over me.
After many adjustments came doves.
Then feathers tumbled as they fray.
Thus, a backstroke of a quill is a key.

Far far away in a land farthest from thou:
I cover fields of flesh mind body and soul.
And not one sole an error in face of foul.
I have sown them all together as a whole.

Let you be known: I have put my foot down upon your Mighty Head!
Let ye also be known that I do sleep in a Queen, not King sized bed.

®Registered: Ann Rich 2010


Details | Verse | |

Solar Love

Every star is someone eles's son (shield your eyes) shrug off hate from everyone familiar place been here before thousands of nights the ocean shore coasts are changing minds align hate and fear must now resign connect the dots move my child tame the shy wake the wild shred advice relayed from the miser castrate cancer obstructing the wiser transcendental the hydrogen burns furnishing life each time earth turns


Details | Free verse | |

This Union Means Jack

Twitching limply atop an Ulster lamppost
Like a hung man, legs kicking in spasm at the last seconds of life
Its bigoted purpose now spent and now abandoned to the elements
No longer recognisable as the flag of union, a rag, a disgrace

Its fate summarises the fall of a culture that once honoured it
A proud nation of proud men, of starched collars and stiff upper lip
Colonially pink maps on schoolroom walls bore testament to empire
An empire won and lost when the map turned from pink to red
 
Up and at ’em lads! For King and country! Hold the banner high!  
Ypres and the Somme, regiments of the brave under one colour
The twitching curtains of multi-culture now fearful of the emblem
The emblem of abhorrence uncased by those not qualified to fly it

Patriotism, a narrow path parting pride from prejudice
Defined by a flag, one duplicitous fluttering cloth, a split personality
Now the badge of hooligan, xenophobe and pop diva
Courage now gone, bleached by sun, washed by rain…atop an Ulster lamp post