As the trials of life come and go
Accept there blessings into your soul
Let them become without a doubt
A model of what you're all about
Don't let them get you all depressed
All things in life need be addressed
Let your spirit be like the wind
Your unseen dearest friend
As I see the lines in my face
Each a reminder of certain place
Do I wish they would go away?
Or that my hair wasn't turning grey
I have no desire to regain youth
For I have learned to speak my truth
When I was young I was so lost
I let my soul pay the cost
Running hard against the grain
Using drugs to kill the pain
Now I feel each and every day
Use the Lord to take the pain away
Do what I can accepting what I get
Treasure blessings that come of it
Thank the Lord through the poems I pray
Use what I need give the rest away
I seem to be driven by a single goal
Can you feel my heart and soul?
I slice them open in hopes they will bleed
Something that someone might need
The single fear I know so well
The fear that my words will fail
So once again I face my fear
As I write I shed my tears
Because these words are spoken true
My heart belongs to all of you
And through it's love I hope to show
We all share a single soul
A soul that is bound by love
Given us by the Lord above
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2007
Way before the sunrise is when I start my day
I offer thankfulness in the prayer that I pray
I do love the morning with its beautiful sunrise
Especially when reflecting off clouds in the sky
My life is a journey with my soul as the guide
What makes it beautiful is my wife at my side
My children are my strength; encouraging me
I make sure that everyday is truly all it can be
My friends are many though old-friends are few
For I no longer agree with the things that they do
I still hold them all in my prayers and my heart
Nothing in this life could ever pry them apart
So what is the story the meaning of this rhyme?
The blessing is there if we just follow the sign
To accept the blessings the place we must start
Just be as a child and look through your heart
Be as a child; cherish every one of your dreams
If you wish to feed the river than become a stream
Everything will happen in its own time and place
You will truly find peace once you’ve found grace
Since love is the place where we all need to start
Remember, be kind and gentle to your own heart
One day, “Old Saint Peter,” will open up the gate
There is nothing to fear for heaven will be great
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2010
No tears shall fall in this new year
nor memories call to ponder fears.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
Peer pressure of the worst no matter who they are
They can be a boy or girl that they believe to become martyr's
Strapped to these young souls, is something they just don't understand
Yet the cowards who persuade them to miss, becoming a woman or a man
What, where, why or when, does this quest justify it's means
For it arises in the warped depraved, in twisted confused dreams
For in this book that they all crave about, this they cannot do
It's against their religion to request the suicide of you
For all their Cleric's whom they are, they sit and witness so
Not one has ever spoken out, to stop this exploding blow
Why is this I ask myself, for they fear the bullet of a gun
Because it's easier to suppress their young, terrorism has again begun
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011
F is for a very strong emotion we call Fear.
The way it feels and why you get it I’ll describe right here.
First of all, let’s talk about the way fear makes you feel.
Imagine that your heart beats fast or even does a cartwheel!
It’s not a sickness like the flu to keep you sick in bed.
It flutters in your tummy like a butterfly instead.
Sometimes it just makes you nervous. That’s why folks like me
might bite their nails in scary movies! Then there’s anxiety. . .
Anxiety is fear that comes from too much nervousness.
Too much worrying is bad; we need to have less stress!
To have less stress, be calm and happy. Get a good night’s rest.
And trust in what your parents tell you, for they know what’s best.
Remember - fear is just the body’s way of telling you
when there is something dangerous, be careful what you do!
Let’s say you’re standing on a cliff. To fall off, you will die.
Fear tells you to be careful since you don’t have wings to fly!
And if we feared no punishment from things that we do wrong,
this world would be a less nice place for us to get along!
For if we had no fear of being punished for a sin,
think of all the trouble everybody would be in!
Fear’s a needful thing. You’ll learn to fight your fear with grit.
So do not be afraid of it, not one little bit!
For the E is for Emotion Poetry Contest of Casarah Nance
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015
I stare in the mirror, my tears fall in vain
Can’t see my reflection through the veil of this pain.
Who is this person I struggle to see?
I don’t want to judge her but it’s surely not me.
This stranger I cast looks so tired and weak,
I wish I could help her but I’m frightened to speak.
Cause it’s dark and lonely in this shell where I’m bound
Where once there was laughter, is now void of sound.
and the beauty I knew in just yesterday’s time,
seems gone in an an instant with life’s rythym and rhyme…..
Then GOD he spoke child…What do you mean?
You’re more beautiful than anything that I’ve ever seen!
The reflection you cast it don’t matter to me,
What matters is that you can see what I see.
That your spirit is filled with a breath that is true.
And a beauty so deep that this world can’t undo.
I know that your journey seems to heavy to bear.
But I’ve given you family that love and who care.
So hold on tight through the dips and the turns,
For the ones who believe are the precious who learns.
And wether your journey is to stay here or go,
Please know I love you so much more than you know.
I wish I could tell you the beauty that awaits…
But you will know only, when you see heavens gates.
Copyright © Bernard Colasurdo | Year Posted 2012
I ran by this thing with haste, that malevolent beast as to school I went
Centered In a beautiful field i never played, because we all knew of the shallow graves.
We never saw them, no one dared to find them, and no one ever even looked
For the other children that were buried there, trust for a child is given by word of mouth.
The rumors grew, as the tulips did in the field that held That Old Red Barn.
A child’s fancy, the minds plaything sometimes given over to the rule of what it thinks must
Because Jennifer said it, it must be so; I don’t dare to find out the actual truth. I’m not that
So I leave it alone, this beautiful thing, because the cover does not always tell the story
If I had given it a second glance and not been so scared that I didn’t notice,
That just beyond the reaches of the trees at its circumference laid a house of golden hue
And in those walls, a grander story than even of that of “That Old Red Barn”
A family of two … now ancient to me spent their time growing corn and raising grain
That would one day come to the table I sat, nourishing me and giving me strength.
Letting me have the energy I need, to quickly run by “That Old Red Barn”
So that I could fly past this place that they built and in their hearts would always treasure
I don’t think that they knew of the fear it instilled all because of one child’s rants
But now that I know and am older now, I look out my front door and see what they mean
This Beautiful Field and “That Old Red Barn” once seemed a curious creature
Full of fear and malevolence, they were too old to invest the time to restore it to splendor
So I purchased from them all this vastness of pleasure, That Beautiful Field, and yes “That
Old Red Barn”
Written By: Ryland Joshua Matthews
Copyright © Ryland Matthews | Year Posted 2010
I dreamt my mother mourned a broken doll,
porcelain, sad brown eyes, and five feet tall.
Entombed it in the finest place she could,
a cottage encircled by sunlit wood.
She danced a silent waltz with it, keening,
encouraging life in the wretched thing.
And it mended as she was worn away.
She did not hear when warned of her decay.
I was left a pristine porcelain doll,
and a broken mother in its enthrall.
Copyright © Brittany Reynolds | Year Posted 2012
Looking all around me and becoming more aware,
Of the people and surroundings at which many children stare.
I come to terms and realize the acts of hate I see,
And now I fear that this same scene will soon envelope me.
Walking on a lonesome road, though crowded it may seem,
I pass through silent hordes of people hushing silent screams.
Beside me standing hand-in-hand, an older man and wife,
I wonder if they thought like me, what happened to their life.
I reminisce now further back before these broken days,
A time of wasting food and drink and dressing different ways.
But now we all look just alike in tattered grays and browns,
Drifting through these damaged streets and sporting matching frowns.
I thought we'd left the two world wars and poverty behind,
To linger in our broken books and fill an older time.
A time where death would cloud the world with sorrow and disease,
And fear would plant itself within the innocent with ease.
This made me think and look around for Noah and his arc,
And for the first time since the night I heard a flustered lark.
I quickly turned around to spot within a child's hands,
An injured bird whose time had brought it here from other lands.
The child stole a piece of thread from a redbreast robin's nest,
And wrapped around the ailing bird a splint so it could rest.
An hour past the lark took flight and answered to the wild;
The only resting place of hope is in the bright eyes of a child.
Copyright © Elaine Ho | Year Posted 2007
There is a room in my mind where panic raids
And there I wander into my own bleak shades,
Where floors of phobia creak come midnight and dawn
As first breathing sounds of uncertainty are born,
Here, a wicker of fear wrestles more than it seems
More a fading face lost in the dark from screams,
Trying to wax this anxious, riddled heart again
As the mind races on visions of traffic scenes and rain.
Yet, there is an inner candle that never snuffs out
It lights brainwaves, and banishes deep doubt,
A halo gleaming from so near, never too lame
Though it knows not my name, yet it knows who I am,
For years, it has slid like waves in shimmering glade
Guiding fingers of hope with lit instincts I have made,
Until peace glows in the soul, telling me I am home
Knowing trust is the giver of life to end of my roam.
Debbie Guzzi’s Contest: Fear/ and
Brian Strand's Any 2012 Poem
By nette onclaud
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2012
I once was here, then in the blue ocean,
I once was dry, then thrown into commotion.
I had no clue, for I was in the complete dark,
but I was becoming a GREAT WHITE SHARK!
Just a wee baby was I at five feet in length,
I have a dozen siblings all in great strength.
I’m just a pup who swam away from his mother,
trying to hide from prey with my little brother.
Now I’ve grown fifteen feet long as I’m older,
I’ve become more vicious and completely bolder.
I can swim fifteen miles per hour with my dorsal fin,
I’m top of the food chain as my speed always wins.
I’ve become a predator expected to hunt food,
but during the winter days I’m not in the mood.
I really fear humans who fear me even more,
for it is actually sea lions and small whales that I adore.
I can’t believe the adrenaline rush that I need,
as I rip apart marine animals for my feed.
My agitation today became stronger than ever,
as I went on my greatest and best endeavor.
My torpedo shaped body and my stable tail,
help me escape from a pack of killer whales.
They tried to tip me over and become catatonic,
it makes me fall asleep in a state of hypnotic.
My life has never been better on this journey I embark,
for I have become a predatory GREAT WHITE SHARK!
I chose: Becoming a Great White Shark
April 9, 2017
Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2017
who am I?
why ask why?
we're all matter on the scale
some will pass others will fail
we'll pray and go to church
fearful of Satan's torch
some say fairy tale
Jonah met the whale
God is here
don't have fear
Copyright © Robert Heemstra | Year Posted 2016
The nervous system originates in the brain.
Nerves send and receive signals to feel pleasure, fear or pain.
A baby’s diaper rash causes crying, pain and suffering,
Her torment needs attention , care and buffering,
She is so sensitive to pain, as were you and I ,
The slightest discomfort caused us to cry.
But because this is pain we can not now recall,
It does not mean we didn’t experience it all,
The nervous system is developed in Mom’s womb long before birth,
Of course, most people know this fact, for what it’s worth,
Why else does the babe instinctively move away,
When the medical probe is maneuvered her way?
She does not know the terms “women’s rights“, “choice” and “abortion”,
As she is killed, screaming in a fear and pain filled contortion,
But that baby’s pain simply doesn’t matter in this world of darkened lights,
She missed the boat when the flag unfurled for choice and women’s rights.
Dear child, you are just not old enough to be without pain and fear,
You see, we have too many excuses times one million a year.
May God buffer your pain my little friends when your shortened time is through,
And forgive your Moms and Dads for we may or may not know what we do.
And ask God to have mercy on us self blinded pretend Christians too,
As we vote for politicians who promote killing your siblings and you.
God bless you Chantel.
This is a repost of the poem written 5/01/2010 in answer to a charge that babies don't feel pain anyway so it's okay to abort them.
The news today 4/17/2012 (AP news) reports that the fetal pain abortion law which recently came about in three states because of the scientific proof that unborn babies do feel pain is now under attack because people want to kill the little ones anyway in spite of their proven torture.
Perhaps some day our society will become civilized and history will reveal these acts for the barbarianism that it indeed is. Until then let's keep praying for our youngest most vulnerable minority friends.
-Robert A. Dufresne
Copyright © Robert A. Dufresne | Year Posted 2010
What’s going up and what’s coming down?
How does the dollar compare to the pound?
These were my worries many years past.
I’m finally idle as the years go by fast
Now my worries have flown to the rear
Violence and terror giving me fear
Bombs bursting and people in the air
Causes and purposes never being clear
Is it terror, or just a random crime?
So many young men still doing time
So many women still being abused
So many outsiders still being refused.
I think I should shut off the TV news
Turn on the radio and listen to the blues.
Copyright © Andrew Battaglino | Year Posted 2016
I lived a life of sorrow and pain
No rest for the weak, no hope of gain
A trapped soul and broken heart
A lack of love from the start
A spark of hope hastily smothered
A glimpse of light quickly covered
No choice in life but to cower in fear
Forced to sit and drown in my tears
"Don't make a sound and don't talk back
Do what you're told. Don't give us flack!"
I sink deeper in a pit of despair
I cry inside, "this isn't fair!"
Then water couldn't dowse, sand couldn't smother
A certain spark of truth in another
When the truth came out and the culprit was caught
We finally let go of the lies we were taught
I escaped a life of lies and deceit
Now it's up to me to stand on my feet
Now I start over... let go of the past
A new life is mine... the old, outcast
Now I smile as joy floods my soul
I know happiness now and my life feels whole
I've let go of my past. It's over and done
But my future is bright like the shinning sun
Copyright © Eleonore Husted | Year Posted 2012
This day was as peaceful as to me the day had been so long
As I listen to the birds chirping just for me in their last song
As Autumn descends upon us - but all the land is still green
As warm showers give the birds - their last chance to preen
It is only times like this - to which I am at my most content
Memories I that hold within the Kirkyard are to me only lent
As within the Kirkyard - I get to see deaths glory at its best
As I read all the gravestone epitaphs of all those now at rest
I can hear all the idling chatter of those so unearthly ghosts
Saying to me - "you are welcome" - today we are your hosts
A peacefulness prevails here - as only a Kirkyard could give
As I enter another time frame and to how folks used to live
Passed before my eyes images of long ago for me displayed
That then disappears into the walls of the Kirkyard in a haze
Ghostly figures even stop to stare at me - in their eerie way
What do they think of me as I am dress for the modern day
Silence descends - no words in fear these images would break
Every image captured like pictures within my mind - I do take
The sun sets with sad loneliness laden underneath its weight
Every gravestone whispering to me till I reach the iron gates
The Kirkyard is now all dampen - with the coming of the night
It will flourish once more come tomorrows early morning light
I, a soul tired and so weary as seen as etched across my face
As I pass beneath the gate lamp it showers me with its grace
For myself - fearing how much fear - that I have in death itself
But . . .
On my death I will enter this Kirkyard - and only feel its wealth
Indiana Shaw . . . (*-*)
Copyright © Indiana Shaw | Year Posted 2016
I feel it jump
my heart goes thump;
see stars whirl 'round
'neath sky, the ground.
This dizzy spell
feels just like hell!
must keep mouth shut!
Now come the tears
from worry, fears
I will pass out
without a doubt!
Is this the end?
Will I ascend
into white light
beyond my sight?
Oh God, please come
and lift me from
this scary state...
I cannot wait!
My heart beats fast,
my breath won't last!
My forehead throbs...
I shake with sobs!
And then it stopped!!!
At once I hopped
from coaster ride
to race inside!
Without haste, zoom
to the bathroom!
Hug toilet bowl...
my pride console.
Sandra M. Haight
Premiere Contest: And Then It Stopped
Sponsor: John Lawless
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2017
The sea summons in unrelenting whispers
haunting the night as waves spin their spliced harrowing tales
Hallowed echoes an unending scourge over tenderness
weeping secrets wait held in bondage’s everlasting kiss
Terrified to speak as translation becomes disloyalty
aching is betrayal and compassion is flammable fragility
One misstep and balance becomes twisted alienated from truth
as fear takes hold from these toxic dissonant words
Scathing reproach becomes buried beneath tidal swells
carrying out its inevitable pilgrimage towards unrighteousness
Cold suspicion scatters on the shores in broken shells
trapped by suffering and tormented by long ago betrayals
Decaying memories never lived once imagined still dwell unanswered
this is not love quietly whispers on the wind of denial's farewell....
Copyright © Donna Loughman | Year Posted 2017
My nightmare is so tangible...so vividly I dream,
The dream, it feels so true to me...reality it seems.
Exhaust and smoke are all I breathe...the air is full of smog...
The job I do is thankless toil, but I work it like a dog.
There's mercury in the fish I eat...there're toxins in my food...
And drugs, they are a constant scourge...myriads for every mood.
Bipolar is my government...a house divided 'tis...
And corporations drive both sides...in the pockets of "Big Biz".
The icecaps, they are melting...the sea is rising, too.
Pandas, condors, polar bears -- empty cages at the zoo.
My money ne'er seems quite enough...I'm always out of cash...
My freedom fled when I wed my bride...(live I under the lash).
"Entertainment"? Reality TV...maybe some vampire shows...
Or idjits becoming household names for being beachfront "ho's".
People clamor "climate change" from the seats of S.U.V.'s,
And bitter news on the honey front...what's killing all the bees?
Politicians spending more...we go deeper in the red.
Opinions dressed as "news" abound...is journalism dead?
Cell phones are ubiquitous...conversation's endangered now...
And "Kardashians" are famous girls..but who knows why or how?
How strange my twisted psyche is t'make real what must be fake...
Now'f only I could find some way to get myself to wake.
Written on November 27th, 2012
By Daniel Beus (Rebel Sun)
Copyright © Daniel Beus | Year Posted 2012
Oh granny gran...I'm here, I'm here
I held you so close, even through my fear
You're so cold...please open your eyes
Just once again..see sunny blue skies
Paper white skin, against my rough calloused hand
Each breath slips away, like hourglass sand
Sirens screem, but you can't speak
You tremble...my knees are weak
God granted us these precious days
To laugh again..and be amazed..
And say I love you, although you know
Through my fear, my love will show
*hello everyone.sorry I've not been able to read all your wonderful poems and comment lately...
I found my Mother In Law in a diabetic coma a few days ago..unresponsive...almost lost her....
Been caring for her a lot...she is almost 91....hope to be back among the fun real soon..:-) :-)
Copyright © Donna Jones | Year Posted 2014
Imagine being suspended in time,
where life lives and is itself.
Conception is not a reality because
all aspects of living are present.
The heights presented is a way beyond your grasp.
Awry are your eyes looking for help.
You shout out in torment.
However, more darkness you felt.
To dispose, you firmly shook your head.
In spite of this, the calamity did not disengage.
Your [mis]fortune wanted to be fulfilled.
The depths of despair were now very real.
Almost at the end of hope, you found one last token.
You, as a true believer, asked the Lord to take over.
You release the tormented world to The Almighty Jehovah.
Life itself was not forsaken.
Have your days of torment concluded?
It is you that desire splendor.
Empowerment of all people you perceive.
Mighty is the sword and awesomely strong is the soul who conquers iniquity.
Written February 25, 2016!
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2016
Sudden fever, limbs trembling, the clog in breathing
why now when I wish to sing of the golden coming our way?
Packages piled beneath tree, lilies opening their heart
and I can't think, no story, no news, no hellos.
So I have only my new toy phone and these crazy fish
mating and multiplying and swimming past golden bells.
Who am I kidding, how could I not be productive every minute
when rest is denied me for a cough, swelling at throat.
No excuse, one could say, fish will always be fish, darting
from threat, meeting their feed needs, following children.
So why am I no fish, no human with this glazed brain
when the carols unroll with the bowing of violins, trumpet
of joy. Isn't that enough, sheer piping pleasure blared
to night, to dare fears entrance, to light up world
Isn't that the true message, you and I here, meeting
for an hour, a gift of sharing, the unrolling of fatigue,
the quieting of sorrow with the birth of a new world.
How new? Minutes new, this is enough for joy
to cherish the golden fish swimming into you life
disappearing like tomorrow's sun forever but alive.
Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2013
Walking alone in the middle of the night
Holding hands with the cold in the pale moon light
I hear more than my footsteps; look over my back
The shadows from the trees were on the attack
I walked a bit faster, my heart began to race
The mist from my breath teased the skin on my face
Should I make a right? But I look to the left
In between my imagination and reason sat a cleft
I began to panic, but what the heck for?
Because fear was of the essence and nothing more
Sounds ricocheted off of who knows where
Like a scene displaced from your worst nightmare
Something was watching or following me
I was just waiting for something to jump out of a tree
Or grab my shoulder or touch my back
Causing me to urinate before I have a heart attack
I took a deep breath and leaned against the next street light
It must be my mind playing tricks on me tonight
Copyright © Kristina Reid-Hansen | Year Posted 2011
Who's That Knocking On My Door?
On Christmas Eve, fast asleep,
Since I counted all my sheep,
Snug and warm in bed I lay
Till I wake on Christmas Day.
Who's that knocking at my door?
God, it's only half-past four!
Half asleep and half awake,
Suddenly, I start to shake.
Is it bad news, is it good?
Now alarmed, think if I should
Walk the hall down to that door,
Lift the curtain to explore?
Will I see some monster eyes,
Or a burglar in disguise?
Not thinking straight, this is true;
But I must, this I knew.
Knocking, knocking, still I hear
That late night sound that I fear.
Half-past four on Christmas Eve;
This I still could not believe.
Slowing walking with great heed
To confront this scary deed;
Pulled the curtain back to see...
Then I laughed so happily!
A tall box, right there in sight
'Gainst the door, this windy night,
Knocking on the glass, you see,
Christmas late delivery!
Sandra M. Haight
Contest: Who's That Knocking At My Door?
Sponsor: Tammy Reams
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015
Your agouti mix with your silver sleek shine,
Your genus “canis lupus” known throughout time.
You hunt in packs deep in the woods,
So stealthy and confident just like you should.
Carnivore mammal, tough as steel,
You ripped me apart for your last meal.
Untamed and wild beneath the the moon,
You've startled me in my pathetic cacoon.
Unraveled, strings pulled out of needles,
So high strung, and a beast who wheedles.
A savage predator from North America,
With ancestors spread through Northern Canada.
You came and left in the blink of my eye,
I heard you found a home somewhere near by.
First time I saw you I ended up on my knees,
Searched for shelter crying out for indemnity.
Last time I saw you my heart was in ruins,
It's only because of your tedious undoing.
Later than sooner when we meet again,
I'll pray for comfort and hope to suspend.
Your call of the wild screeches in my ears,
As you pass on your legacy throughout the years.
Your agouti mix with your silver sleek shine,
Next time you're near I'll be disinclined.
Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2015
I feel as though time is slipping away,
And more is gone each passing day…
Copyright © Tirzah Conway | Year Posted 2012
In same brotherhood of fanship, all sit together as the representative
every field command to their favour gives the great feeling of an executive.
Stamping a noisy presence even when down is so brave
going further below despite this act is getting closer to the grave.
Hitting hard a hated enemy in a famous rivalry- nothing this glorious
waving flags, raising banners and loud chants throws any intimidation towards us.
Labels of victory and the waves of Mexico, we always create
standing at the opposite side of the arena, the wailers can hate.
Fully packed attendance, what’s at stake insignificant to the showcasing pride
equilibrium shifts as it brings out sweat from the losing side.
Already one up, the wave movement on this side gives a fresher air
deviating from its initial circulation to ensure it is fair.
An intriguing contest is proven from a scoreboard so unstable
swinging between alerted minds and broken hearts at each turn of the table.
That moment all have been waiting for when the icon is introduced
already known flicks and tricks fully anticipated- he’ll reproduce.
After the game’s conclusion, the final whistle makes faces glow
giving the other side the need for their bowed heads to grow
As happy fans enjoy the blessings of a glorious institution
while their counterparts demand from their heroes an immediate restitution.
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016
I see you over there with a smile on your face,
that makes you glow and stand out to me in this place.
I watch you to see if you notice my look,
You make my heart ache like a fish on a hook.
It's hard to approach such beauty I know,
I bide my time to let my confidence grow.
I try to think of something unique and special to say,
but I know there's nothing that others haven't tried to play.
Looking at your hair and longing to know you more,
What could I possibly say that you wouldn't ignore?
Your smile makes me melt in my imagination of you,
One mistake could easily push you away and it's through.
How could I approach you with such a beautiful attraction,
I feel we could have such love all I need is a good reaction.
If I can't think of something to say you can't refuse,
I fear that you'll be gone forever and I would lose.
Why has it got to be so hard, it can't always be,
Give you my love, but my love you'll never see.
Copyright © Donald Williams | Year Posted 2014
Dirty rotten scum
to take the life of an innocent one
torn away from my childhood
but not yet thrown into adulthood
you've given me a life of pain
certain to only knowing, that never
again, will the days be the same
but I have found my new freedom
here, within these mighty walls
known as Gods kingdom
Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
This is a journey, a trip call it what you will
It follows the footsteps of my ancestors, and allows my thoughts too spill
Firstly let me take you back, to tell you so little of my past
Indigenous I am, from the "Stolen Generations" I did not last
This is why I must make this journey, to allow me to find the real me
To retrace the few steps I made, to rediscover what my young eyes seen
How ironic that the person I'll ride with, is the son of the then official
Whose deliberation to round up us children, the scene, locale
It's now the morn of our travel, where I look I find hard to see
The peripheral of the distant horizon, is all that really captures me
The town where I grew up so young, barely to the age of five
Perth, now bustles like a termites nest, zig zagging in busily strive
Into the bush we go, to a place where us youngsters so enjoyed
Moore River Native Settlement, which soon became children void
As I walk my arid lands, patterned in the heat of this day
I recall with every step, where us Indigenous children played
We could survive on the smallest of fruit, water we could easily find
Even the son of the then official, said that we are a superior kind
He marvelled when I spotted tracks, traces of where animals crossed
Remembering back to when I was five years old, our lands always talked
We opened up as we led our horses, introduced all those centuries ago
They opened up my lands, rivers we walked, now the white man flows
This is a journey I had to make, it's called, it's in my will
No more "Stolen Generations" no more will my culture spill
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2012