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Best Freedom Poems

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New Freedom Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Freedom poems are below this new poems list.

The Path To Freedom by duggan, peter
All About Freedom by duggan, peter
MAN AND FREEDOM by Trifiatis, Demetrios
Freedom Fighters by Rowe, Jahfari
Freedom is farfetch'd by Perez, Daniel
Freedom Fighters by Avalon, Ria April
You Can't Take Away My Freedom of Speech-NOT FOR CONTEST by Sutherland, Marti
The Cost Of Freedom by nnoli, richard
Bad Freedom by Pan, Xuefeng
peacefully will come freedom by rainwater, ashley

View all new Freedom Poems

The Best Freedom Poems

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Indian Ink

Listen to poem:
“Indian Accent”

Hear the whispers inside

Chanting from long ago
Echoes come and go
Losing time in a soft eternal glow

A beautiful and delicate autumn mountain scene
Dry blue eyes enchanting melodies!
Voices fall from the sky;    -Rising hymns release 
-ancient demons that   CLING to the soul

Darkness dwells under - gentle moonlight
Ancestors of the Spirit World!
Weaving Native smoke into the barren air
Indian spirits haunt the muddy Earth---
Moccasin makers rise from underneath;    While
  guardians of dream catchers - print the Universe
Smooth thread from the outer world; 
Arrowheads,   Ivory gems,   feathers, and illusions
I stumble upon a florid kiss.......   My veins;
Run Cold, like ice through a desert night.

Winds of enchanted drums - cry out for rain
Hollow chimes mesmerize,  my ties,  my eyes
An ancient rage begins to flare --- MADNESS! 
- takes place among the sanity of  who   I am
The spear of the perfumed buffalo scrapes my skin
I remove the veil that covers my eyes
The hands that cover my ears
Drying the scalp that bleeds on my face

KINDRED IN EVERY WAY!

Raven silk braids and feathers on my hair
Dancing in a horrid hallucination of Peyote,
*
Waking up from the “American Dream.”
Holding out my arms, I am free, I can fly.

I AM A BIRD!

By; PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

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Big Girls do Cry

They expected her to be the jolly fun one.
The one   w e a r i n g   a smile on her face.
So she became.....who they wanted her to be
She was quick with her wit, telling her practiced fat jokes.
It was a pre-emptive strike of sorts
her attempt to remove the target
from what some thought was her "considerable ass".
Never again wanting to be the "butt" of people's jokes!

She remembers the year she was "Chubby Checker"
the year her parents gave her that checkered jacket
she also remembers how hard she cried.
They laughed and one boy sang 
"Big Girls Don't Cry----- they don't cry!"
She vowed to herself on that very day
"I will never ever cry again!"

There were the many diets
the yo yo effect..."Yo big girl, lookin good"
 Friends asking her  "have you lost weight?"
Those "good for you"s!!!!
The attention felt good in a way
but the weight she'd lose seemed to come back the next day.
Somehow the cursed food felt like her only true friend
the only one on whom she could depend.
The food never judged her
instead it filled the empty sad part
the part that weighed nothing
yet felt like it weighed a thousand pounds!
The part that felt lighter when she was full
it somehow felt like a hug from the inside.

She stopped eating in public
not wanting to hear comments like
"she could do without that ice cream."
There were also the buffet comments
"She's going to get her money's worth!"
Still what hurt even worse
were the nice people
the trying to be kind people
the ones who felt sorry for her people
Saying "all you need to do is lose a few pounds." 
or "you have such a pretty face." 
Some people would tell her "You're just big boned."
Then there was comment she hated the most
"You have such a great personality!" 
For she knew it was all part of the "Fat Girl Show"
the persona she had gifted to them.

Then came the day
that epic day she stopped joking.
When she smiled when she wanted to smile
when she dressed in the ways she wanted to dress.
She embraced the form she was given
she celebrated all of her curves.
She decided to eat when she was hungry
nourishing and loving her body
she allowed colourful foods to occupy her plate.
Strangely, she started losing some weight
but it wasn't her goal
for inside she was becoming whole.
Skinny was not who she needed to be!
When tears came she allowed them to flow free
she was no longer her own enemy
The more she cried
the less she felt her empty.

She learned, everyone
y e s.... everyone,
has some kind of insecurity!
No one is completely who they wish to be
some have hidden bits
others are more obvious,
even  if   some are somewhat oblivious.
She now has learned to be a compassionate witness
one who is much kinder to herself
she doesn't  keep her thoughts on a shelf
So when others make jokes
or give painful pokes...
She tells them "That's hurtful and it's not okay",
"I'm who I am and I'm perfect this way!"
Maybe next time they will consider what they say.
For today and tomorrow and every other day forward
she is more than some number on a scale that she weighs
or some joke in an insensitive phrase.
She now can be and see her true self in extrodinary ways








March 27th 2016
Any Poem 36








Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016

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Pretty Shoes and Cracked Feet

Once I'm gone 
I'll only be remembered a small while
I'm a tiny tick on a large dial
The words I breathe will stretch about a mile
Even those who are in history books
the Kings writers and famous cooks
The gorgeous people with talent and looks
They too in the end fade away
Don't get me wrong it's all okay
We might try to hold on but none of us can stay
All have a bit part 
on this watery ball of granite and clay

Some are calm others make waves
One smooth skinned another shaves
She loves him while he's attracted to Dave 
They both pretend because they have to behave
Each in their own prison living like a slave
The preacher too plays his part 
trying to find people to save

Some couples love from the start till death
She breathes in he exhales her breath
Their children thrive Bobby and Beth
While some mothers go it alone
Daddies leave and are never known
Children left to learn life from a smart phone

Some chase riches when other just want to eat
Walking on pretty shoes while poor men have cracked feet
The music plays so clearly yet we fail to hear the beat
So I wonder what's it all for
This wanting more and more
Is that really God knocking at our door
Yes it is I believe it at my core
So why do we leave it closed
Maybe because we fear our sins will be exposed
a life manicured and posed 
could be unfroze
Freedom from each prison chose
Instead why not drink from the garden hose
Wear our humanity 
discard these labeled clothes
Count down the future with fingers and toes
Within a momentary breath each spirit goes
As minds open each heart then grows
What happens next only God knows!







Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016

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Crying River

Crying River (The Untold Ballad) 

Undercover waters of rain dash
Cold children, no smiling splash
Tragic sobs, epic force of the mountain rain
Beautiful as it may seem -shallow basin 
---Dream---

She cries a tune, 
Mocking the Maple lands, a beautiful tune
Crooked Cornwall, she steams with the moon
Oceanic dreams, monsoon season, she swoon's
Frozen, dead, ice skating rink
Her wind, Pretty Chains O Lake 
Wet and Wild, the Elk drinks from her garden
Water falls from the lids of Jordan
Beautiful as it may seem with open curtain

When the ocean succeeds away from the sea
She's wide awake during winter's rain and breeze
Lost in the mud's of Bellaire's heartache,
River Blues, ice cold snap, bayou stirring up
Racing rivers crying by the western gutter
Silent, bells chime in the Black Mallard waters
Streams, blowing and drying dew droplets
Little rapid tears, everything spotless
Sugar, Swan waves down by Devils Creek
Listen to the thunder bay rolling deep
Beautiful as it may seem, she weeps

A northern world with streaks of falling rain
Pretty running white hair pane
A weather vane, snow dangles above her domain 
Beautiful crying winds
In the Eyes of Michigan

~3/5/14~


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2014

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Love Is Free


      a puppet dances

   to its own merry tune

    no strings attached

----------------------------
[Inspired by Jan Allison’s 
      poem “Love is Bind”]



Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015

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Buttercups and laughter

She sings in soft tones,
her magic exists beyond the obvious.
Listen closely to her wanting,
She is wrapped in a trancendent light.

A dreamer,
chasing white rabbits.
Grasping for the infinite,
with delicate hands.

A moth, 
Dances within her luminosity.
Flying on yesterday's wings,
carrying smiles that are meant for tommorow.
Witness her as she waits to exhale.

A daisy chain,
tied around her wrist.
A future promise to be kept.
For within her spirit,
exists a burning passion! 
She waits for one who is worthy,
of her consuming flame

Although she is unaware,
hers is a temporary sadness.
Happiness flirts at the edge of her dreaming,
waiting for an open window.
His shadow hidden behind frosted glass.

Shades of green,
turn brilliant yellow!
Buttercups dance around her feet.
Her laughter floats across the meadow,
as happiness runs to her open arms.

Together they skip, towards her apple tree.
For hers is a faith that trancends the temple.
Her spirit sought and found salvation.
He had been with her all along,
I can see it in her smile.
The rain has passed and sunshine now resides in her eyes!



Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014

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Poetry was Her Best Lover- Adult Content

Poetry was her best lover
Like no other
He loved her
Without restraint
She could be herself
And explore
And discover
Secret pleasures and fantasies
Naked above the covers
He let her lie
Exposed
As he slowly caressed her imagination
Making her flow
With the sweet essence of her soul
In waves of delirium
Flying free
He let her be
Unfettered
Unashamed
Unworried of how to please
Or how to tease
Just simply to be
A woman in a prelude
To ecstacy

Poetry was her best lover
Her escape from reality
In clandestine intimacy
He ravished her mind
Again and again
For all he wanted
Was for her to come
To experience
To taste
Every pleasure
He had to offer
Her insatiable appetite
He fed
With firm truths
That burst forth with wisdom
He fed her desire
To reach supremacy
He never betrayed
Or delayed
In pleasing her
In giving her just what she wanted
In different ways and forms
His creativity endless

Poetry was her best lover
The only time in her day
When she had her way
And could be free
To be the woman she was mean to be
Sensual and sultry, sexy and savory 
Not having to hide
Behind the guise
The veil of culture
Or religion
Or misconstrued sexism
Or alibis
Being demure
And “sterile”
When she was fertile
Laden with passion


Poetry was her best lover
He adored her
For whom she was
And he gave and gave 
At times
Leading her in submission to his will
Taming her
Training her
To live in the confines
Of his rules
For perfection to be reached
She had to follow his lead
To the pinnacle of pleasure
Where all was in rhythmic union and rhyme
The sublime
Tasted and lived and then to descend
To warm after glow
Basking in the satisfaction
Of a fruitful union
For beauty has been conceived 
Waiting for delivery

Yes, Poetry was her best lover
And she
Came looking for him
Begging him 
To take her 
Again and again and again
To transport her to heaven from hell
Tasting eternity

Poetry was her best lover
And she
Had no need of another
To help her discover
Her own entity….
None other
But her best lover
Poetry....


Eileen Manassian Ghali


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014

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Soar Like A Butterfly

These thoughts of mine do not behold
Let them soar high like wings befold

Observe  them  come         then watch them go

I ain't nobody 's but my own

These arms of mine not to be bought
These lips of mine  not to be sold
Nor is my mind to be possessed 
or is this spirit to be  undressed

Let me be me         Just let me be

I ain't nobody's but my own

Do not preclude  raindrops  from falling
Through cascade paths  I need to walk

I need to rest where children  sing
Where gale winds shift against  demands
Against each mountain    and every  glass jar
which traps these butterflies within my heart .





P.S: This is a fiction poem 

' Soar Like A Butterfly 
without being captured
in the jar of this world 's demands.'


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2016

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Freedom

In solitude I dream tonight
And watch a moth in fevered flight.

It’s drawn toward my quaint porch light
And flies consumed with all its might.

Through open window I can see
Its desperation shared with me;

How freedom in this world is light—
And we as souls are drawn to fight.

Though freedom’s light may cause our death,
It’s worth the risk with every breath.

I understand the moth’s sad plight
When drawn to the glorious light.

Though it knows not of human trust,
It buzzes on because it must!

© Connie Marcum Wong



Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2014

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FLYING HIGH - VISUAL 5

Soaring Free as a bird No wings to restrain us Blown gently on salmon pink clouds Heaven! 01~11~15 Contest: An American Beauty – Andrea Dietrich Visual 5: Balloons Checked Using How many Syllables 2,4,6,8,2 ~awarded 4th place~


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

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Broken Wings

As the sun arose in the eastern skies 
a fairy princess sits rubbing her eyes.
Yawning she glimpses her magical isle 
and her tiny lips, curl into a smile.

Standing she stretches in her treetop bed,
anxious anticipates what lies ahead.
She flutters her wings to get them ready,
raising one knee, she jumps slow and steady.

Hovering like, a hummingbird she glides
then races off with both arms at her sides.
With lots to see her day has just begun,
she never stops until the setting sun.

Racing through the forest over fields of wheat
smelling the flowers, is her daily treat.
Talks to the butterflies this sunny morn,
tests the fresh honey and tastes some sweet corn.

Spotting a pond sparkling like a mirror 
zooms back and forth each time getting nearer,
watching her reflection, no time to think
crashed in a deer who had just stopped to drink.

Later discovers she’s broken her wings,
Lies in bed knowing what carelessness brings.
Six months of bed rest was taking their toll,
this fairy princess was losing her soul.

Finally the day came to test her wings
her will is determined her heart now sings,
shouts out with joy as she reaches the sky,
nothing feels greater, than when you can fly.

Iambic Pentameter 
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
01.14.2015
Contest: Sketch a Fictitious Character II


Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2015

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Je suis Charlie

Translation below (in progress)


Celui qui n'a pas de cœur
Ne doit jamais reposer en paix

He who has no heart
Will never rest in peace


J’étais Charlie

De ma tombe
Mon âme pleure encore rouge
L’encre coule encore
Arrosage des fleurs ci-dessus
Les fleurs, fortes et belles
Elles doivent étouffer vos manières diaboliques
J'étais Charlie, je suis Charlie, Charlie toujours
Dans ma tombe
je ris
vous perdez

I was Charlie

In my tomb
my soul still cries red
the ink still flows
Above the flowers grow
the flowers strong and beautiful
they shall choke your evil ways
I was Charlie, I am Charlie, Charlie forever
In my grave
I laugh
You lose





Copyright © Etienne Lariviere | Year Posted 2015

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DANCING ON AIR

Freedom! Sensuously she spreads her wings, Floating in glorious glens Now at one with nature 16th February 2015 Jan Allison Syllables checked with how many syllables Contest In Praise of Kimo – Nette Onclaud ~awarded 6th place~ Visual 1


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

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The Ladybug's Whisper

And the ladybug placed a caressing whisper into dragonfly’s ear,
“I want to fly again. I crave to flap my tiny wings towards sunset’s crux. 
I want to breathe again. I want to be held like winds within canyon’s dialect.”

“But, first, I just need to scream.”

…

Let me be your breeze.

In
One
Fell
Swoop

…

The power to swim!
The power to grin!
The desire to never, ever fall again!

Let us embrace conundrum’s waterfall to be its resolution!
Let us allow joy to be our bedtime lullabies!
Let us let love IN without full moon’s dependency!

Ride on this impeccable jet stream towards animosity’s downfall!

Look in the face of your beautiful enemies
Daring it to stand above pedestal’s fallacy
Let your radiance be their final intimacy!

Take incipient steps,
Upon mended asphalt wishes

Let them tremble at the sight of your beautifully embattled smile
Knowing they will never reciprocate

Where desert winds kneel in our reflections
For we are an oasis
Forged of blood diamonds; sacrificial memories

Breezes become gusts
Gusts become worshipped exhales

All that I am!
All that you are!
All that they hope to be!

Our Yin & Yang
Will release proverbial boomerangs
Breaking vicious circles upon this genesis

We sway above greener pastures.

Gusts become breezes.

One
Fell
Swoop

Breaking enigmatic mirrors to see your true colors
With a scream to paint your new canvas

…

The time is now,
Let your two feet become one.

Rise, my ladybug!
Rise

Say goodbye
To detrimental trials

And caress newfound trust
Within a gentle

S				E
       M		 L
                 I

©Drake J. Eszes


Copyright © Drake Eszes | Year Posted 2013

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Captive Bird - 12 Bars 12 Dreams

12 BARS Twelve brazen bars, one frozen lock! Confined, sublime, an ancient Roc endures inside a barren cage, her catacomb in sundown sage. Of former days there is no trace except displays of fallen grace – Twelve dreams, abiding in her place, are free, inhabit yawning space: 12 DREAMS ... of wings unfurled, and seething eyes that dredge the depths of dawning skies, devining clouds that cling below, once ice, dissolved in morning’s glow; ... of clutching winds that carry free above an anguished leaden sea, dispersing dust of distant stars midst chunks of chain in slave bazaars; ... of swooping to a silent shore to perch beside the ocean’s roar, at last to feel the sobbing breeze message the leaves of rooted trees; ... of stalking strays and twilight tramps within the fog of lighthouse lamps that blink forlorn through caldron nights in search of shades of errant Kites; ... of darkling vast deserted lands, with shadowed stones on windswept sands, where ghosts of Moorish maidens lost disgorge faint groans in mourning frost; ... of blotting out the bloated moon while feathers beat a banshee tune and glimmers dance and prance aglow upon a pearly pale plateau; ... of tasting cool torrential rains, beyond the realm of binding reins, and sipping freedom they exude in quiet drops of solitude; ... of vanquishing a galley crew aboard a ship of midnight dew, beneath the pierce of seagulls' screams that mock the strands of scarlet streams; ... of sating once an aching craw with tearing beak, with ripping claw, and echoed by an eldritch screech while feasting on abandoned beach; ... of restive thoughts and weary wings that drift on haze in smoky rings, obscured within the opal shroud of her resemblance in the crowd; ... of croaking caws in broken rhyme in winter woe, in summer clime, while building nests of sundown sage beyond outside a barren cage.


Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2012

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Liberty of the Press


Broken pencils-

                 but not broken spirits





Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015

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Rising Within Your Pages

I take for granted all that I can do
Thinking that what I have has all been earned
Instead I should be so thankful to You

A spirit of pride is one that is learned
I start to believe the things that are said
Thinking that what I have has all been earned

Within my heart I begin to be led
Rising within the pages of Your Word
I start to believe the things that are said

I learn to fly on the wings of a bird
Here is where I learn the ways of Freedom
Rising within the pages of Your Word

I no longer doubt your Kingdom will come
Without your Love I will never know Peace
Here is where I learn the ways of Freedom

Within the Heavens praises never cease
Without Your Love I will never know Peace
I take for granted all that I can do
Instead I should be so thankful to you


Any poem #4 Contest.

Sponsored by Nathan A.

Written March 7th 2014


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014

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Where Freedom Finds the Fire

You'll find it in the crimson eyes
of a throwaway photo somehow frozen in time.
When the past painted us like demons
with secret fury.
And you'll find it in the smell of a burning memory
like melting microfilm becoming enraged

(gifted with the freedom to deny
first appearances)

You'll find it in the cedar smoke
of Tyndale's earthen cage
roasting in a bale of hay for crimes unknown.
Where the fire of his message burned mighty
through a thousand hungry hearts that day

(where ancient ink once again
took a detour into youthful veins)

You'll find it in the velvet ash
of a (just one more) cigarette
being flippantly flicked into December sky
for reasons unknown.
Where yellowed fingernails bear witness
of freedom to live and freedom to die,

leaving not an inch of space to analyze;
for the fickle flames - much like life -
waits for no one.

You'll find it in the platinum tendrils
of a Colt 45, that so quickly took a life,
in the burning heat of an eternal second.
Where curled fingers and steady stare
makes it painfully aware
freedom is a pitiful beauty, ugly as sin,
and as right as rain

(ask the victims of Hiroshima --- they'll tell the same)

You'll find it in the vermilion sky
blazing brighter than passion pure;
stopping the world gears, of rat-race routine,
and turning a thousand rusty necks Heavenward

Where minds silently unhinge      (for a moment)
And fear itself begins to cringe      (for a moment)

When faced with childlike wonder
blind eyes will see.
A rejuvenating spark
this freedom can be.

And you'll find it the explosion of ecstasy
like a rose blooming in tenacious time-lapse.
You'll find it in the Cherokee midnight dance,
being warmed by the tongues of freedom personified.

Where Common Sense no longer applies,
for when freedom found his heart's desire,
you know it was a compromise.

Losing his mind, and losing his life,
in the process of a martyrdom
for all things beautiful and all things temporary,
in its earthly essence

... where freedom finds the fire,
you can't tell the difference.



Written March 23rd, 2016
For the Where The Freedom Finds the Fire Contest Hosted by Justin Bordner


Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016

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I Have Fallen

I clasp your hand the moment I realise I will fall alone
You grit your teeth in anger holding me as I dangle there
Your jawline is rock hard, the veins on your head popping out,
You are breathing in and out in desperate fear of losing me
But your lightening, determined eyes shoot through me and say,
"Damn it all!
I love you
I will never let you go"

The mountain's edge falls around me and below us
But I will not look down
Gravity is pissed
With all of my strength I hurl my shoulder upwards so that my other hand clasps your arm
You pull me up to safety and draw me into your fiery embrace

Nothing will take us but each other...
I know this and sob in your arms
I have never fallen so in love with you
In that moment when death was so close
From here, we will rise
Kiss me relentlessly through all destruction,
You have taught me that
Every mountain will fall before us


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2016

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Paris the 13th

Paris the 13th

Tears, my tears fall to wine
As I can not comprehend this horrendous crime
Men filled with such spiteful hate
Islamic teachings seal their fate
Kill and slaughter love and smiles
How I pray tell does this bring about
Any compassion of heart, have they no guile?

I have walked along those Parisian streets
Filled with history and diversity, such a feat
Hand in hand, people from so many lands
Dressed in darkness, blacks and grays
The massacre dancing in premonitions sway
Crusaders never win, for love will take its stand

Hundreds taken from Jesus hands
For nothing more than celebrating their great lands
Food and drink and lovers smiles
Stolen this night by hateful bile
We shall rise again, defend and stand

Our blood may flow in the river seine
However in the end its you, who is insane
We shall defend our liberty
Even if we hang evil from the tree

Père Lachaise has brought me tears
Such history over all the years
Yet here I am faced to visit once again

Paying respect to those dying in vain
My heart is fraught, with you till eternity

Liberté, égalité, fraternité


Notes: Pere Lachaise is a famous cemetery in Paris
Liberté, égalité, fraternité is the motto of France




Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

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Pledge of love and loyalty

This pledge that l,Ntando, make today serves
as my guideline that I shall follow
happily, ungrudgingly and tirelessly
for the sake of our love life.
Indeed l am well aware of the fact that
the beauty of this pledge does not only lie
in word alone but in action as well.

For that reason in every season
I shall show steadfast commitment
to the implementation of this pledge
with a great deal of astuteness.
I therefore commit myself to be your
devoted and delivering husband for
all the years l shall live with you
on this earth.

I shall treat you with the love and care
you deserve as my wife.
Indeed l shall treat you with
the distinction and dignity
that is befitting of the queen of my heart.
That body, that bone, that breath
shall be my mine to treasure,
for sure;
a dearness to promote and protect
for dear life…and love!
I shall stand by and with you in all the
situations of our life.
If the situation demands that we sail,
sail we shall together.
If the situation demands that we
climb,
climb we shall together.

I know very well what l am getting into:
I am getting into a marriage that is
overflowing with blessings.
This marriage- with our mutual
commitment-
will stand the test of time.
I know very well what I am getting into:
I am getting into a relationship that
brims over with a transforming power
of love.

This marriage-with our
mutual commitment –
will transform naivety into maturity
troubles into challenges
pretence into practice
pride into progress
bachelorship into companionship.
I pledge to be your steward and partner
for all times.

I shall value the consultations
and decisions that we make as
husband and wife.
As head of the family I shall do nothing

 

to derail our love train for anything else
least of all for personal and selfish reasons.
Now and forever

I am your lawful and loving husband…
This pledge that l, Nothando, make today serves
as my guideline that I shall follow
happily, ungrudgingly and tirelessly
for the sake of our love life.
Indeed I am well aware of the fact that
the beauty of this pledge does not only
lie in pronouncements but in practice
as well.

For this reason every season
I shall demonstrate untiring love
and loyalty to you;
a love and a loyalty that is a living
embodiment of our marriage vows.
I therefore commit myself to be your
honouring, supportive and loving wife
for all the years l shall live with you.
I shall treat you with the love and care
that you deserve as my husband.
Indeed I shall treat you with
the dignity and nobility that is befitting
of the king of my heart.
On my mind it is always fresh
that I am the flesh of your flesh.
Green or grown

I am the bone of your bone.
I know very well what I am getting into:
I am getting into a relationship that
elevates me into a kingdom of wifehood.
I shall endevour to put my family first
with all the rights, obligations
and privileges that come with wifehood.
I shall endevour to wipe off and ward off
loneliness and lostness from our relationship,
seeking nothing but your companionship;
banking on your stewardship,
sinking together any hardship.
Since you are mine
I shall not do anything else to undermine
our relationship for personal
or egotistical
reasons.
Now and forever
I am your lawful and loving wife…


Copyright © Ndaba Sibanda | Year Posted 2012

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Poppies Red

November 11th is Remembrance Day in Canada 
(Veterans Day)
When I was in grade 7 or 8 (I don't exactly remember) we had 
 to write poetry for a Remembrance Day contest. I won and had to read this in front of our whole grammar school. I must of been 12 or 13. This was my first real poem!
I dedicate this here today to all the soldiers who fight or have fought for our rights and freedom.


In Flanders Field with poppies red,
there lies the secret of the dead.
Those blood coloured poppies
so red and so gay,
bring the whispering sound
of Remembrance Day.

Those true earnest men
who fought for their land,
now lay beneath the musky cool sand.

Alert and ready at dangers call,
prepared to fight they would not stall,
but march right on,
now some there lay,
In Flanders Field,
with poppies gay.


Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
1970


Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

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Black Diamond

On the border of the obscure wastelands, In the depths of shadows and torments, Far beyond the land of Never Was, Never Will Is a place where I hold you, strong and silent… As the shards of your sensitive sadness prevail, Sifting the awaiting coals below, I shall reflect slivers of your light upon the darkest woe! I fight with the broken alliance within the dimmest coves, I mean to pull you into Death’s demise Where the pained poets prevail and the suns of justice arise So that e’en the coldest of coals reach warmth! Generating power so strong, that the gods step aside As these diamonds-to-be burst into the light of day Revealing your words of Always Was… and Always Will The Black Diamond, once captive…finally free…though coal black still!
For Shadow Hamilton's Contest: Fighting Depression(poems for PD) 12/7/14


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2014

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How much do I love thee

How much do I love thee
Let me tabulate all the ways

I bought you a new Mercedes
	With gold plated tire rims
I bought you a humongous diamond ring
	The size fit for all Royals and King
I bought you a store of the finest lingerie
	Secrets still held at the door by decree
I bought you a garden of roses so red
	My love was surely in bloom, or so they all said
I bought you a ticket to heavens pearly gates
	So that in paradise you’d have not to even wait
I bought you your very own private Lear jet
	To see the world through champagne eyes
My love was a vault and you emptied it dry
	My heart has now learned to never cry

How much do you love me?
Your lawyer seems to know

You claimed mental duress
	Suffering under such stress
The Mercedes was the wrong color so I am told	
	I should have known, pink, not gold
The diamond ring was too heavy to wear
	Your back injuries caused you painful despair
The lingerie didn’t cover you just right
	So medical ailments kept you up many a nights
The roses in bloom where not the right flower
	Your allergies they caused, thus making you sour
The ticket to heaven you plain out refused
	Said it was one way, and that just wouldn’t do!
You had no issues riding my Lear jet 
	You rode the pilot as well, a mile high kinda bet
My love you tossed into the bin out in back
	The divorce lawyer smiles at me, saying she sure is great in the sack 

The moral of the Story is this!
If you are sitting at the table, and
You see a few beetles scurrying about
Maybe even whistling a tune or two
Listen carefully to what they say


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

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Goodbye, My Child

Where cradled canyons sing
Of ebony wood in the forest
There lies a gurgling spring
Where cockcrows sing their chorus
To the melody of singsong birds
There I’ve concealed my sensuous words
Filled with befitted signs
The saccharine whiff of my designs

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Where the fogs of night are fountains
Spills of glistened moon ignite
By distant silhouette mountains
We dance with passion of fight
Entwining ancient stance 
Mingling hand in hand we dance
Till the mountains smile on high
Near and far we spring
To pursue the realest of dreams
While the world cries at its seams
Anxious in trouble to cling

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

To where the ridges merry make 
From the beaks of wooden bright
In sparkly pools the ghouls awake
That scarce to stir our night
We watch for seekers down under
Muttering secrets in their soul
We bid them lucks of shivers
Dipping gently in
From reeds that hide a tear of a foal
Under the gentle rivers

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

Far away she shall ever churn
The taciturn eyed
She’ll listen no more to turn
To the working mills beside
Or the scrubbing of the barn
May peace weave in her song
She shall wave in the yarn
To a haven known as Belong  

Come to me my mortal youth
To the wild realm of your truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only your tears be found

For she comes, the mortal youth
To the wild realm of her truth
Where nymphs and gnomes abound
For the earth is filled with weeping
And only her tears be found



Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013