Grave Freedom Poems

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Details | Rhyme |
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




Details | Terza Rima |
The wings beat against the cage 
in an urgent frenzy tormented never defeated 
within this half twilight zone of slow crawling time held victim 

The allure of consequences nevertheless feeding the flames 
where conscious thought and lucid emotions die 
slowly singed away remains at the bottom rung 


The wisest transaction is the covenant never made and openly denied
decadence should never be answered once a pulls so strong
becomes injured with pride in alacrity's foretaste for knowledge

Where even the wind no longer breathes urgent 
madness with passions trait as the grand tempest storms 
steamily blows a cloud of smoke 

A haunting being hunts darkness pushing boundaries
towards cold unadorned blue abandoned 
holding the oceans spheres in restless silence 

Restrained darkness meets light but never crosses over 
the divide scratching at a spirit so forlorn
restraint comes naturally to the craggy and torn

Under the echoes of a lion's roar
A thousand tears can never mourn
the destruction and sad beauty that you have borne

Inside this isolation un-embellished 
Under an austere atmosphere
holds the wings of time imprisoned factors 

Destinies commander oh so damaged in this stunted wasteland of emotion's
conception becoming the unconsecrated norm in an un-heeding barrier 
where realisations stammer unknowingly into the humiliating wit of despair 

Which darkens the very soul blindfolded
The overture of the dove dances on as vigilant oracle of peace
the internal struggles of temperament challenges

Memorable moments within the spirit quest
fear and love wrapped up in a sorrowful wanting
yearning which hurts without choice

The pinnacles of reconciliation
and the fragile stirring of wings
wanting to fly is the verdict yet to come

a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid

Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |
An amulet of peace hung ‘round my neck,
An AR16 rifle in my hands….
Seemed like such a paradox,
In the paddies and jungles of Vietnam.

An amulet of peace hung ‘round my neck,
A man’s life was in my hands….
That life was not only mine,
While trying to survive in Vietnam.

An amulet of peace hung ‘round my neck,
Hoping for guidance by God’s hand….
Ignore our sin, keep us alive and safe,
While fighting in Vietnam.

An amulet of peace hung ‘round my neck,
My duffel bag in my hand….
After 13 months, I was going home,
No more to fight in Vietnam.

An amulet of peace hung ‘round my neck,
An Honorable Discharge in my hand….
Only to be spat upon, called ‘baby killer’,
By ‘peaceniks’ against the war in Vietnam.

An amulet of peace no longer hung ‘round my neck,
The challenge of a new life was at hand….
Found love, happiness and some success,
And tried not to think of Vietnam.

Again, that same amulet of peace hangs ‘round my neck;
And I hope my friends all understand….
I want our courageous young men and women
Out of Iraq and Afghanistan.

Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014




Details | Rhyme |
Beloved, lovely roses: gift of God and lover’s flower,
Spread your colored petals and cradle tender showers.
While admiring the blossoms with their beauty to behold,
Ought we not to know the Tender of such lovely garden groves?

For He lovingly and thoughtfully wields His pruning shears
To cut away the stems of old for fuller future years.
He cultivates and feeds them. He attends them as a Father
Looking daily to their needs; so faithfully He waters.

From the dawn of morning dew until the setting sun arrays
Caring always for His own until that great appointed day…
When the Gardener comes to claim each one the earth held as its own.
He gently picks it at its peak and for His pleasure takes it home.

As God did one glorious morning, when the Perfect Rose had bloomed.
He rolled away the stone and met with Mary at the tomb.
There the sweetest Rose of Sharon rose that we die not alone.
But be gathered for a garden grove, surrounding heavens throne.

Copyright © Tom Valles | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
Gazing out upon dusky barren moor,
Where gray grass grasps the air
Finding no purchase but sad allure
Straight stalks elapse their endless despair.

Teased by tales of golden reach
Tricked by gales, whose song they preach.

Redtail’s velvet wings breach the sky,
Maroon lips who kiss the grass
Stirring the song, its desperate sigh
Catching the words, her beak of crystal glass

Behind her, midnight shadow draws
Fells her beauty with unseen charcoal paws

Scarlet tears dampen the earth below
Nurture the roots held by dusty truth
Finally, the wind, gray grass’ will bestow
The hawk once, now the fountain of youth.

Litany of silence reigns in dusky glare,
Each blade bowed in mournful prayer.

Copyright © Avery Swarthout | Year Posted 2015

Details | ABC |
 some days I'm neither decisive nor constant still in mid step advancing parallel combining 
 due stress pre-tense in depth, feign fair, fair is not love nor hate,objecting 
 lines turning war torn due reputations proceeding by stride and sweat pourn ,
 but the clocks  harder at  self gaining advantage and foolish lost to 
 insincerity,  caused by quotes barley  examples of thought misunderstood .

Copyright © Jason Schropp | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
Temperature dip
urban leaves turned
Autumn, sniffing around
for a place to settle
no Farmer's Market
in San Francisco today.

Copyright © Jen Franks | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
The innocence is transfusing
and overturning 
the goat skin drums
children of the mills,
children of the junkyard,
alone, 
and savaging
and we keep filling them with
mercury, nitrate, espestice, baby bombs
blasted out of their shaved heads
scared,
and foraging

Copyright © Blake Holland | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
Alas there is no more confusion,
finally found my last conclusion.
Expect me as if Jesus will return,
from a ghost to a realm of concern.

Your dreams are portals like doors,
welcoming spirits into hasten wars.
Leaving the thoughts without trust,
keeping your fears in much disgust.

And though you sought no consequence,
deeds that confirm a wicked malevolence.
Awaiting in your nightmare of screams,
enjoy what is left amongst your dreams.

Copyright © Eternal Victor | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
Read the Bible and the words that are said. Times of trouble and tribulation are ahead! All one has to do is read the book of revelation. To read about this world and this nation! Days of wickedness and evil that abounds.. Shall very soon. Come “crashing to the ground!” For our sin, there’s a price that has been paid! Many have become sin’s servant and slave! Many will not escape God’s judgment and wrath! They’ve chosen the wrong direction and path! Right now... There’s a path and a way to “escape!” Please do it right now! Before it’s too late! The right path to take, is through Christ alone! He must be the lord of your heart and home! Jesus alone, can bring hope to your soul! He’ll never leave you! Is what he wants you to know! Times of trouble and uncertainty are well on their way! Christ can help you to overcome! He can do it TODAY! By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Tarot reading I desired.
She flipped each card and the world was before my eyes.
I thought that the spread would not have insight.
However, the cards did not lie.

I don't know this personally.
I am not one to believe a darn thing you tell me.
You are after something that does not belong to you.
I do not need leadership from a damned fool.

I would meet the fool in the world.
His tales would be told via our love.
Oscar was full of s***.
He knew the exit.

The gateway to technology expressed his ideas.
He seemed to believe he open doors for me.
I have learned him well.
The Tarot Reader showed me the High Priestess.

I would meet the fool in the world.
Therein, skill, logic, and intelligence would transform.
A new generation has come transgressing the old one.

Not to cheat myself, I will be succinct.
The Tarot 3 card spread Justice, The Lovers, and Death.
Suppression is an element that disallows a liberated mind.
Never to be fooled by love, the critical times will appear.
Righteous, herein, is within the Lord's omnipotency.
__________________________________________|
PENNED ON SEPTEMBER 14, 2014!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |
France gave America the Statue of Liberty,
In 1865, from Edouard de Laboulaya, his act;
It begot Joan of Arc who insisted that,
Nationality bet religion as a matter of fact.

The Free French were renown in WW II, 
For an innate determination which alit,
The will of those sinking around them,
For the democratic heart that was split.

It produced Thomas Piketty with his book Capital,
Which called for a global tax of all richer states,
To redistribute income for egalitarianism,
For freedom and for the poverty liberation straits.
 
The death of Jihadi John set it all off,
As he was the symbol of the Islamic State,
Most definitely and without reservations,
He was the one with the credal slate. 

But France today has an interventionist policy,
In Syria, and is the most vocal nation of all,
Insisting that President Assad needs to go,
To enable free democracy to stand tall.

In 2010 Qatar, an Arab state with oil and gas,
Won the bid to host the 2022 FIFA World Cup;
When a UK government employee questioned this,
In November 2014, he caused a very real hiccup.

France was said to have validated Qatar,
To chief Sepp Blatter who was eventually removed;
I can’t dismiss that Qatar would have reciprocated,
With gifts of money for the French to be proved.

With some of Qatar’s money, flowing and free,
France would’ve strengthened its foreign policy,
Doubled its presence in Syria, or even tripled it,
With the USA and others following likewise - oui.

So the French people’s ability to fight ISIS,
Is important to Syrian Islamists who are fully aware,
That the size of an army determines its success,
Thus Qatar’s allegiances are ISILs concern to beware.

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
I have conjured you into existence and now, you are a raging tempest in my mind’s eye. I shudder at the mere thought of you and your embrace... Will you lay waste to my whimsical heart’s content?

Though I wonder in and out of states of dazed confusion… I still keep reaching through the violent winds of change that knocks me to and fro. My soul is the left shaken by your swift flooding of my being… How can I overcome that which is not seen with my rose tinted vision? For my stricken eyes are not as they once were, instead I envision and feel your figure close to mine and it is blinding and binding.

What say you, beautiful melancholic creature of my own making? I wish to have no respite from you… I will be free… I want to be set free from these furious shackles around which I am bound

Copyright © Bongisa Grey | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
You think you’ve gone just far enough,

I could smile knowing you’ve gone far enough that you can’t go back again

You think you were careful but,

I’ve caught a glimpse of your true, wretched form

You think you can find a way into my good graces

I’ve seen what you are, monsters with a friendly costume

You can’t deceive me anymore and, I don’t consort with serpents

You think I’m a game to be played but, trust me, you could never win

Don’t underestimate me

You think I’m a joke but, trust me you won’t be laughing

You think I’m just talking myself up but, trust me, you’re the ones going down

My eyes took too long to adjust

Better late than never

It may take a monster to know one but, I promise my teeth are sharper than yours

My first reaction to the hideous revelation that was your form was to weep

Fall to my knees, maybe even wretch my heart from my chest and onto the carpet

Then I thought about the mess it would make

I decided the only blood that will spill, will be your own

I was not weak, but I had a weakness

A heart of soft gold stitched to my sleeve with care

No longer

Now my heart is a stone so heavy

I could kill at least two birds at once 

Being the nice guy is a thing of the past 

Thanks for freeing me of that softness

You thought I was all sunshine and delicate things

When really I had just been swallowing razor blades

Now that sun is setting and I hope you see it was you who were wrong

Can you feel my darkness coming, because it’s eager to hold you

If you thought I was the one who would just stand still or turn to run

Your gonna be the one with tired feet

I’m not sad anymore

Just sick with the plague of your lies

Contagious, and I’m looking for someone to kiss

Even angels can make themselves wicked

When we do, we take no prisoners

Still think I’m a game

This one is just beginning

Copyright © Alexander Schwartz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative |
Tried to trace this man, 
studied the case and had my plan, 
a soul is whispering from somewhere
asking for help, I said, back off !!!

But a call is a call
it searches my soul and being, 
then found myself doing it
i must say, back off to this man! 

Met him and succeeded 
invited me to his place, we proceeded, 
as I enter his great place
full of goons, must I back off from it? 

No...! 

He offered a drink as he mixed, 
he went for a while to change his shirt, 
so when he came back and drink his piece, 
Alas! 10minutes, he went off asleep! 

Traced the walls for possible passage, 
and I have found where she was a savage
I hurriedly searched for the lock and there I found
hanging at the back of her life size portrait in grief profound! 

I ease to unlock by the key I got
and quickly lift her up, help her to get up
we walked pass by the sleeping monster
tried cautiously to escape away from there.

Damn, he is awake! 

He advanced to kick
threw it hard so quick
too glad I managed
to kick back in a glimpse! 

I reached my gun, hidden on my waistline, 
Aimened vigorously, with authority
Stay where you are! 
Back off !!!

He tied her up, 
used her for his cover-up, 
urging needs of flesh he had...
Damn man, back off !!!

Two years she wept for pain
asked mercy from this man but in vain, 
she almost lost her mind and gave up her soul...
Spare her, back off !!!

Caught between the crossfire
of ravaging flame of bonfire heat, 
Burnt her skin like hell...
Back off !!! 

He tried to get up, moved forward, 
I have to trigger the gun, 
I said, "Come on, and you'll be gone!" 
Back off !!!

And bullet is heard, ripping his left leg, 
fell down to the floor, he cried and beg
"Daughter, I love you so much, don't let her do this! 
help me, tell her back off please!"

Bull****! 

I almost killed the man! 
Yes, why not? I can do it! 
But I controlled, called backups
I will never back off to this fight! 

I saw her weep loudly, her life was a mess
Damn to this vulture who eats his own flesh! 
He deserve a bullet on his head, don't you think? 
Ruining his daughter's life, he must be thrown in hell! 

Flesh to flesh, blood to blood
Is it easy to back off and just let this pass? 
No way! How dare anyone would say: 
Back off, Carole, stop and never look back! 

No, no, no, no, no! 

He must pay his crime, I swear he must die! 
But I am not a killer, 
nor a hunter but I would lie, 
If I don't admit I wanted him to burn in hell and die! 

Then I turned my back, let them get him
Turned him over, trembling with anger
He must be thrown into steel bars
let him pay what he has done, for years...

Steel bars, keep this man! 

Inner Whispers

(dedicated to the victims of sex slavery and incest)

Copyright © Inner Whispers | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
Devouring, destroying, decaying. For your eyes only.
Inside, interiors, innermost. Then reflects on the outside.
Eaten, eager, eroding. Tap it, let it pour.
Disdain, disease, departure. 'Twas been driving you.

...reconciliation, with what is left.

...acceptance, what it offers.

...accord, to what you have become.

Peace, in the soft embrace of oblivion brought through demise.

Copyright © The First Born The First Forgotten | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |
Snakes came upon the garden bhour
waiting for the family for an hour 
a long journey was faced
a curse shall be placed
upon the house in the desolate side of town
its getting closer to sun down 
darkness was all around
blood started pouring from the snakes' eyes
until one dies 
the house became a torcher chamber 
there was demons and ghosts surrounding the house
as if someone was a mouse
it was odd that it was the Sabbath
the demons murdered all the family in the house
a note from hell was placed upon the door 
written in the blood of a whore 
the letter unleashed goblins and ghouls 
and other horrors that no mortal has ever seen before
they started killing each other and drinking their blood
darkness crowds the old shed 
an evil witch formed in the shed cursing the ghost out
then a tornado came and sucked the evil out
and now the town is in peace again

Or is it...

Songs from hell started playing from the sky
a thunderstorm began to emerge
but why?
was this the end 
or something far worse
could it be that the devil himself was taking over our planet
the sea started to rise 
serial killers roam free, terrorist bomb the U.S., and pollution 
death oh glorious death is all over our little earth
aliens come from above 
killing people and ripping their hearts out
and for what?
So that the government can make money?

Copyright © Blake Holland | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
It was a dry, dusty day when I saw the wheelbarrow, with long handles made of dark wood. 
The wheel is struggling as it carries its burden, but it manages the job that it should. The man pushing appears to be crying, his eyes all puffy and red. It’s time to move on, but I wait,  I wait for him to reach me instead. The wheelbarrow has a dark green cover, such a sickly, metallic sweet smell underneath,  such a heavy lump in my throat,  “don’t lift the cover!” but regardless, I pull back it back to see.
The first thing to strike me, such a tiny hand, tiny fingers all bent into a fist, and an inch below there in my big gloved hand, the smallest most delicate wrist. Her face is held together by bright orange thread, her eyes are searching the stars. Her crown should still be there, on that beautiful head, where she lays, crumpled up inside her Dads cart. I put back the cover, swallow hard and just stand there, my head, Jesus Christ I can’t think,  my pounding heart tearing itself apart inside my trained body, at this beautiful little angel in pink. 
Her father, his eyes screaming toward me sobs gently, silent rage and yet deafening shock. Why can’t I bring myself to look into this man’s eyes, oh Lord, grant me some breath that I may talk. To say sorry, to ask why, to just speak in his tongue, to show him that I really care. I realise that I could never find words, I’ve no such tragedy to compare.
I walked away from the blue wheelbarrow, thinking that I could leave it behind. But every night as my daughter hugged me, that wheelbarrow crashed into my mind. Whenever she cried my stomach went tight, when she laughed those dark clouds disappeared, whenever she told me she loved me, I knew that I had nothing to fear, but yet so much. The wheelbarrow changed me forever, drank me to illness, and brought my whole life to the edge. I couldn’t switch off from that sweet smell, and I couldn’t explain that to friends. 
 I will never forget, such a small wrist in my hand, such beautiful soft lips kissing the sky. Such a pretty pink little dress, though stained red with blood, those clear and lifeless brown eyes. I wish that I had asked for her name, what to call that three year old victim of war, so small and so beautiful with those innocent eyes, my body aches that I can’t wish so any more.
If I could explain to people, about my demons, in one image to make them understand. I’d draw that blue wheelbarrow with the green cover on top, and that sweet delicate wrist in my hand. Two days after the wheelbarrow I became a Father and to my comfort, for the rest of my life I will know. No matter how often the wheelbarrow returns, I have my daughter, here for me to hold.

Copyright © James Clark | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Strolling down the streets of ancient Pompei,
I discovered the tomb of a freed noble man;
unearthed from the volcanic black ashes, 
now it blooms surrounded by fragrant lilies 
as it appeared in its imperial, glorious days! 

Looking closer, I noticed tools itched
on its sides, the trade of a freeman
once enslaved by his wealthy master,
and to prove that he was also of a noble
spirit, he wanted to be remembered 
for his achievements and his intellect!

Not all Romans were cruel as History attests,
but had a good heart helping the lower class;
had the Emperor made aware of such generosity,
they would have been killed or thrown to the beasts!

Our greedy society is similar, workers being underpaid;
its an invisible slavery and yet it gives us shivers
for their unhuman condition and horrible abuse:
Rome's mentality of slavery survives to our day!
The proud sons of immigrants will arise to avenge 
their fathers rage, they will sit with the prominent ones
sharing the same ideals and status that honor freedom!

Build my marble tomb by the shade of cypresses,
plant jasmines and lilacs around it and let them bloom;
the late image of me on the top with a pen on the right
and a notebook on the left...what a lovely display
of my vocational trade! Will someone discover my grave? 
The brief epithet itched in italic letters should read:
" Born a free man and died a free man in a foreign land."

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
He laid there, warm and happy. Defeated as one, but successful as two.
A bullet hole straight through his chest. Another dark green uniform stained,
By the dark red liquid seeping through the torn fabric.
One hundred and one desperate young soldiers, laid to rest by the tip of his pistol.
A rifle jammed and abandoned just a mile away.
The last puff of smoked tobacco, freely evaporates into the broken spans of oxygen.
Fought for his family, his country, his land and our land.
Breached toward liberty, and founded it. At the tip of another’s Beretta M9…
This is America, America is you. America is he, she, and me. 
I am “The America”.
Open and free, to you, including me. I’ve held my guard, stood stiff and tall.
Fought hard, till this day, to wave “hello”, to the one race “individuals” every single day.
Wave back, or don’t wave at all, I’ll respect you as an American and not a flaw.
United or divided; we are one nation, that stands under religion, we are one nation.
Black, white, tall, or small, whatever it is, WE respect all.
Our flag does and will, stand to protect us all.
WE ARE ONE NATION, FOREVER YOU AND I.

Copyright © Jerry Najera | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
She calls me out at night
To take my sins to the grave,
Under the melancholic moonlight
For now there is nothing left to save..
She's stuck inside my head
And I'm her possession,
To rise the cursed dead
And take part in their resurrection..
She's out there watching me
While I'm lying wide awake,
Lost in my futile fantasies
For now there's nothing left to take...
I see her morbid eyes
Lost in eternal agony,
While in the pitch-dark night she flies
Away into the darkness and sets me free...

Copyright © Jaz Kaur | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric |
It  was  for you and me,
That Jesus left His throne,
Bore the scourge and agony,
Shivered His flesh and bone,

It was for you and me,
He took the awry tour,
Towards the dreaded Calvary,
Summed His tortured  hours,

It was for you and me,
That Jesus bore the cross,
Paid the greatest penalty,
That death supposed be ours,

It was for you and me,
He wailed the gloomiest cry,
It was for you and me,
Jesus was nailed to die,

Oh, that you and I may see,
Our wickedness beyond measure,
Jesus to set us free,
In our stead bore the torture,

His love mysterious great,
Knocks  the door of all men's heart,
His mighty power recreates,
Renews our lives whole to restart,

It was for you and me,
When on the third-day death sufficed,
The savior left His grave,
Victorious he arised,

He rose back to His throne,
Sitting by His Father's side,
Prepare! He's coming soon,
Today is to decide,

Copyright © joselito asperin | Year Posted 2007

Details | Prose Poetry |
The wind was blowing when she left the city...

I believe it was twenty below...

Where she was going she already knew...

But... first she had things she had to do...

Get rid of the body that was clear....

There were no options, it had to disappear....

The heater was broken and blowing cold air...

She could feel the ice, building up in her hair..

She had cleaned up the blood as best she could...

As she had hit him hard with that log of wood...

All she had asked him, was to light a fire...

To take off the chill in the house....

Do it yourself if you are cold...he snapped

And while you’re at it get me a cold beer...from the fridge..




It was early morning when she finally arrived at the bridge..

This was his favourite fishing spot...

She pushed his body off the pier...along with his ice cold beer..

And suddenly began to shiver and sneeze.....

Oh well, she said...this too shall pass..

When I get to the Florida Keys..


PS..this is the first in a series..watch for part 2.."gator bait..the dream "









Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epic |
The stones slipped through the great fingertips of God
Each ligure staked its existence on the four corners of the universe
The quadrivial region began to spin and pull into a sphere
And pathways revealed their footholds 

The fourth ligure bravely landed in the midst of history
So that one day the future settlement of the second 
Would be moved by the last—by the past
Suffering much it stayed
Manifesting in incandescent words
Thrusting evanescence upon the weak
Selfless, it's sorrow would move the merriest
Would move the unmovable

The third lies in the profound valley of mystical guardians
Star-recruited, they are the very light above the canvas of gray
They embrace the stone—are inspired by the stone  
The very reflection of their creator was evident
Upon their unremitting glimmers
Unafraid to stare the others down
Motivated and construed by the glower of death
Eyes move fixedly beyond the simple vast

The second ligure rested upon the shoulders of invisible martyrs 
The hopeful power it planted on the sufferers was unbelievable
For spectators used their disbelief to cover their ever-placed envy
They never were part of the battle—they merely watched
Always seeing truth
But they never quite absorbed
Like a rock hitting the water
The inevitable fate was to fly and sink

The first of the ligures settled in the very reservoir of Satan himself
Even the very heart of the devil is marked
Though rebellion embarked  
The cold stone landed upon his naked bosom
He despaired not to the pericopal truth the gods had bestowed upon him
He merely despised it
But wished not to lose it
For such a stone to fall upon that dark corner—he felt pride for the gracious wound

In truth, there are twelve ligures of stone 
And four were dispersed, dropped into the universe
The last eight the great Eternal wears upon his breastplate 
And only He can re-move these ligures

-July 20, 2013-
-For Shadow Himilton's Any Subject Contest-
-Thanks for the inspiration-

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Carry me quietly to the river Strip me, touch me, and love me I am alone Let the freezing water cover me Let it eat me alive As my mind drifts through the waves And my spirit sees its own grave Set me free Free me from everything Free everything from me

Copyright © Bruce Coates | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |
Written  Upon A Visit To Shanksville After 9/11



                                               Citizenry Of The Soul

If I did not believe there was bad in us,
I would have told you so.

If I did not believe there was also good, there
I would have uttered the words.

The instant of man is suspended upon this. It
pivots upon it as if some jewel on a chain, as
if “the belonged.”

We travel down the gravel road together past
The cornfields, and there a peacock stands bewildered,
by a barn, with eyes like a human being.

Up further are three golden feathered roosters with
blood red combs and, a ram with majestic horns.
Still, further is a reindeer, who hides his oddness in
the shadows.

On the ridge above are the horsemen. The horses are
Pale and beautiful and the sky above is “laid
open” and wondrous.

We travel further and, we reach the field of ghosts,
one single flag in the middle of the green grass.

We sit and wonder at mankind, at the struggle that
ensued there above that field to preserve humanity.
We imagine the plummet of the metal hull to the soil.

The purer of soul come everyday and sit and look out
upon the single flag, look upon the single truth.
The mud clings to their feet.

There is no wind above here or below. But, the currents
of air have odd faces and hands, they make unfinished 
turns and curves. They ring bells on plaques.

And, caress chimes, flutter ribbons.
We see the brighter souls.
We know they are this wind we feel brushing our 
arms strong – even in their going.




Copyright © Romella Kitchens | Year Posted 2014

Details | Verse |
I look over the fields
At Arlington where they lay
Their pearly white crosses
Stand proudly each day

Wheather gleaming in sunlight
Or covered with snow
Each one stands for freedom
Each one in a row

We should hang a medal of honor
On these crosses that stand
These warriors gave everything
They've protected our land

We owe them a debt
We can never repay
Please join me and honor them
Each and every Veteran's Day

Copyright © Timothy Emmons | Year Posted 2015

Details | I do not know? |
"They don't need your thanks, your picnics or parades, Makes me sick to my stomach when I see such charades. A moment of silence with hand over heart or visit a grave site, That would be a good start. They died for our freedom the red, white and blue ..They gave up their lives with no payment due. So keep all of the hoopla in the sun or the rain. Say a prayer for all the Fallen, They did not die in vain." Ma. "God Bless Our Fallen."

Copyright © Doris McGill | Year Posted 2015

Details | Light Poetry |
What is the third world war?-
"I don't know about the third world war but the fourth,
To fight the fourth,there is no an Earth"
Replied,Albert Einstein,a leraned of worth

The world is ready and armed with bombs
Saying no to all the lives in wombs

"Like cures like"-
The Aborigines of the Australian
The Onkays of the Andaman
The Gond and Koitur of the Indian
The Veddha genes of the Sri Lankan- 
Oh,the tribes of ancient,
Come,for God's sake,in the name of God,come,come!


Copyright © Muhammad Safa Thajudeen | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |



















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Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2018