A lost guardian angel.
Sitting on the edge of the world.
I follow the cracks of the sidewalk, my trolley and I.
My home on the corner of every mission street.
My tin coffee cup starts off with caring heartbeats.
My only possession is the icon of war, with six buttons missing.
Navy, and white my grandfathers 70-year-old military tunic.
My Jacket from which I am inseparable.
My Jacket goes wherever I go.
This Jacket is my home.
"Your first poem was an
excellent poem....you are
skat on my first poem.
"Wonderful and deep
poem....you are welcome
to poetry soup..." That
was Poet Destroyer.
"Wow you have touched
my heart in a special way
with your poem.....your
new friend Leonora
Galinta" said Galinta.
"Well penned" said
kithinji and so many
Hearty words from these
unique poets spurred me
to write better poems.
Which they appreciate.
Poetry soup is safe haven
where feelings and
emotions are expressed
in tangible forms.
An educational enclave
where different forms of
exchanged like two
hands washing eachother.
Am most humbled to
meet these dazzling
gems radiating warmth
like the sun-a privilege it
is connect to parts of the
I believe we all will meet
someday,not in the after
Leonora Galinta is an
angel to meet,whom I
admire amongst others.
Love to set my eyes on
her delicate and graceful
nature. See her graceful
carriage, feel her gentle
hands and smiles as she
exudes sweetness. I pray
hand of time will
backwards when that
day appears as we walk
in the woods leading to
silent deep blue sea with
whispering...... A prolific
writer as well.
PD will I meet
amiable nature,full of
grace and charm. A
Skat is lovely with her
immeasurable words of
Kithinji will I love to
behold,to learn from him.
Have drink with Robin,
Alian, shake akinyemi,
stroll with Joe, hv a hike
Sibanda, dine with Ralph
Saying hi and hugs to
Meeting the soupers is
making a happy family.
Am gliding like the
eagle,soaring higher as
the day pass by.
you soupers are my
(Baron Of Ebullion)
A people persecuted beyond imagination;
To help them he felt, was his obligation.
He joined the army in World War II;
Not knowing his hell would be Eyes of Blue.
When he reached Normandy, the beaches were red.
Crawling over his brothers who lay already dead.
To give this tyrant, this devil his due;
Not knowing his own demons, would be Eyes of Blue.
He rounded a building securing a town;
A young German soldier was just coming round.
He plunged his bayonet, the quicker of the two;
Killing the young soldier, with Eyes of Blue.
He knelt down beside him with tears in his eyes;
How long this moment would last, he did not realize.
He closed the eyes as he thought he should do;
Thinking never again to see those Eyes of Blue.
The victor over many in Germany and Japan;
It was always difficult taking life from a man.
None would haunt him, this he now knew;
As long as the soldier, with Eyes of Blue.
He died an old man, to heaven he went;
For this honorable soldier, mercy was sent.
First time since the war, so sad but true;
A peaceful sleep, not seeing Eyes of Blue.
(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)
Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom:
Solomon Mahlangu was trained as an MK soldier with a view to later rejoining the struggle in the country.
He left South Africa after the Soweto Uprising of 1976 when he was 19 years old, and was later chosen to be part of an elite force to return to South Africa to carry out a mission commemorating the June 16th 1976 Soweto student uprising.
After entering South Africa through Swaziland and meeting his fellow comrades in Duduza, on the East Rand (east of Johannesburg), they were accosted by the police in Goch Street in Johannesburg.
In the ensuing gun battle two civilians were killed and two were injured, and Mahlangu and Motloung were captured while acting as decoys so that the other comrade could go and report to the MK leadership.
Motloung was brutally assaulted by the police to a point that he suffered brain damage and was unfit to stand trial, resulting in Mahlangu facing trial alone.
He was charged with two counts of murder and several charges under the Terrorism Act, to which he pleaded not guilty.
Though the judge accepted that Motloung was responsible for the killings, common purpose was argued and Mahlangu was found guilty on two counts of murder and other charges under the Terrorism Act.
On 15 June 1978 Solomon Mahlangu was refused leave to appeal his sentence by the Rand Supreme Court, and on 24 July 1978 he was refused again in the Bloemfontein Appeal Court.
Although various governments, the United Nations, International Organizations, groups and prominent individuals attempted to intercede on his behalf, Mahlangu awaited his execution in Pretoria Central Prison, and was hanged on 6 April 1979.
His hanging provoked international protest and condemnation of South Africa and Apartheid.
In fear of crowd reaction at the funeral the police decided to bury Mahlangu in Atteridgeville in Pretoria.
On 6 April 1993 he was re-interred at the Mamelodi Cemetery, where a plaque states his last words:
‘My blood will nourish the tree that will bear the fruits of freedom.
Tell my people that I love them.
They must continue the fight.’
Mahlangu died for a cause!
The Struggle Continues…
(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)
Hoot! Hoot! Came the call
In silence I listened,heard
Suddenly, hoot! Hoot!
Came the cry,tree
Seems the world was in
Went I to the window
and Looked into the
empty Darkness. As I lay
down,I Knew somewhere
I would Hear that sound
We salute every soldier who’s
served this great nation.
And offer a heart of thanks
We salute each member
of our armed forces.
And are thankful for their
efforts and resources!
We salute the many who
protect our borders too.
We’d be in trouble…
If not for people like YOU!
We salute every son and
daughter lost in a war.
YOU are what serving this
country is meant for!
We salute the officers who’ve
guided our women and men.
Our prayers are with you!
And our love from within!
We salute our veterans!
Wherever they may be!
Those who served on
land, air and sea!
Offering prayer to the
Lord is our belief…
That he will guide our
As we observe Memorial Day this year…
Let’s offer our soldiers
love, hope and cheer!
May God bless them in
all they endeavor
And his peace be with them
today and forever!!
By Jim Pemberton
the crowds are coming
Memorial Day again
when summer begins
The flag flies over this land of the brave and the free
as a symbol of the liberty enjoyed by you and me.
It flutters in the breeze of a quiet afternoon
reflecting sounds of battles in which men died too soon.
The flag flies overhead in cities and in towns
where people seek a haven from worlds turned upside-down.
It tries, gallantly, to honor, on quiet afternoons,
memories of warriors -- young men who died too soon.
The flag flies overhead -- unseen, by some, it seems,
who hurry on their separate ways in search of private dreams.
It waves farewell then, it appears, with the rise of the evening moon,
it gently reaches out to touch the men who died too soon.
This was written some years ago to honor our fallen warriors
May they rest in eternal peace.. Jake
Fake Words – Zamreen Zarook
God have given us mouth,
Not to speak to north and south,
Tongue is given under an oath,
So it’s our duty to protect them both.
Girls chat fake with boys,
Having a notion that the boys are toys,
They often make varied noise,
Thinking to keep a trap on handsome guys.
Boys are also human being,
So it’s not possible being clean,
Things varies in the way they are seen,
So positive thinking will make you keen.
Boys’ minds are pure,
As it is pure bio,
So don’t try to pour vino,
Which will take decades to get cure.
Dedicated to Lt. Gen. George S. Patton, Jr. (November 11, 1885 – December 21, 1945)
I'd fought a hundred battles
through the ages past and new
I'd been a lowly foot soldier
But at times commanded too.
I was a witness of Arab mothers
Fleeing cities under-siege ;
A new age liberator,
The commander of the third.
I had served with Ceasar's legion;
The Carthaginians; and the Greeks.
When Arthur was in his Kingship,
I was a captain of the knights
A horseman tough and skillful
Of medieval cavalier;
But ages had transformed me
to dash with iron wheels
The only time I meet MacArthur
Was in the salient of St. Mehiel
We both stood erect, calm, and unmindful
To the guns and bursting shell.
Oh well take a look at Monty
Too slow for his advance
He didn't expect me to take Palermo
or Mesina to my plan
I was reproved of my harshness,
They knew not that I was somber too
I cared not of my language
As long as my point would get through
I'd mixed my words with profanities
That my orders surely stick
My men would always remember every word
While they're in the battle field
Oh my, I hate those yellow bastards
They have no place on this earth
I sent them to the frontlines
That no more they would breed
Those swivel chair commanders
Discounted my two days time
But brave soldier deserved to be rescued
Before his dog tag stops to chime.
So my men made it to Dunkirk
To the delight of McAuliffe
"Surrender!" yelled the Nazis
but "nutz" was all he said.
I was cut off of supplies and fuel
For Market Garden's sake
But after pissing the flowing River
I held the Fuhrer's nest
So soon another war was ended
Mine enemies had lost
The iron carver claimed the glory
And relieved me from my post.