dadgum doctors, heads up their butts
poking, prodding, pricking skin
neurologist a psychopath
gets pleasure as electric volts pass through my body
family doctor showed little concern
made me paranoid about irregular heartbeat
EKG failed to determine cause
left me more in doubt than at ease
dentist like a character from Dustin Hoffman’s “Marathon Man”
the more pain inflicted
the more he rejoiced
deep root cleaning caused severe infection
bloodwork done by Vampira clones
labs filled with tubes and needles
results not shared with me
yet I footed the bill
optometrist an Oriental who moved so fast
didn’t care if the prescribed glasses worked
boo on you, dang aristocrats
waving your credentials
nurses so slow to respond
MRI promised on CD, but couldn’t be obtained
just like the blood tests, needed a “report”
doctors driving me insane
each should share my mental hospital bills
*Based on ongoing health tests and written for PD’s contest. Assignment Free Verse, 25 lines, category slam, sad and educational, title: Mental Hospital Bills
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009
I do not know?
Fear is what they clothe them in.
Fear of losing their life because of one mistake.
Fear of losing their life because an officer is having
a bad day.
Some say it's not racism;
"It's police brutality."
Whatever you call it, I can't
help but ask "where is humanity?"
Mothers weeping because they're losing their sons.
Teaching them to fight back with silence
but that is no weapon compared to a gun.
Six feet under, leaving families to fight for justice
over their lives.
Societies getting tired of it all-
starting riots and constructing strikes.
How many more time will history repeat itself?
Or are we still writing [his]tory , using coverups
All lives matter despite of their race.
All lives matter despite their mistakes.
In times such as these justice will demand to be served.
No matter how chaotic, crazy, or obscured.
Life is a gift, one that we should all treasure.
Because all lives matter and we need to protect them;
no matter the measure.
Copyright © Amber Binford | Year Posted 2014
"The boy's got a broken brain!
- Fix him for me now,
I can't do a thing with him."
- So I hear you say,
Though he seems intelligent enough.
After all, he's smart enough
To know the whys and wherefores
Of every deal that goes down on his street -
Every $ passing hands in the dark,
Summed and totalled in his head.
But Math - Forget it.
And you'll never see him crack a book for study's sake.
Perhap's that's because you broke his heart,
Long ago, though his face will never show it.
Because he bleeds inside,
Though to hear him talk you'd never know it.
You tore his shadoworld apart
Just by never being there -
You broke his proud red eggshell heart
Because he knows you never cared.
Perhaps this is why Rage is his religion,
And he only values Gain,
Why Payback is his Creed,
His only currency Pain.
This then is why he wears the shirt
That reads, "Never Forget, Never Forgive";
This why he's unafraid to kill or die,
Yet terrified to live.
So go get an education -
Start with a hard look at yourself -
You that schooled a nation
In the politics of Greed,
Builders of the conflagration
Of burning, unmet Need
Now threatening to consume us
As it climbs into the skies,
As it whispers warnings to us
From his vacant, coldstare eyes.
You broke his heart,
A wound more deep
Than I alone can mend,
I, just one beleaguered horseman.
Cannot set it right again.
You must help put things back together,
If you want our nightmares to end.
Copyright © William Masonis | Year Posted 2008
Resounding echoes awaken the child
demons in the attic beckon unto him
stark fear grips his Vick's laden chest
shivers vibrate rusty springs of down
footsteps creak closer upon loose floorboards
while steamed filled pipes play taps
a somber teddybear snarls
causing the world to be still
foolish nuns, God doesn't want to "get me"
the sting of a ruler splinters a left hand
blood spurts upon faces of laughter
evil little boy too wicked for a mother
affliction runs in the family
Florence became flop because she always fell
polio never whipped her ass
just abused her now and then
she healed with a smile
Even humility has its price
Jimmy Dean wore sunglasses
maybe his eyes were bloodshot
or maybe he was a child of an alcoholic
and they became part of his attire
degenerate eye disease, masturbation
spattering or battering
does it really matter when you can't see
or understand the difference between ADD and ADHD
Psych 101: Crack can be Prozac
Iron gates surround a new residence
protecting the innocent who peer from outside
rehabilitation means refining bad habits
like those on the outside who have mastered them
twelve years of bars and games people play
provide an education unto itself
seclusion can be the deciding factor
between murder or suicide
self righteous judges choose life
recidivism is a revolving door
of vicious cycles with no engines
only propellers called co-dependants
or co-defendants, take your pick
life repeats itself over and over
only the circumstances change
yet the merry-go-round stops
when the flowers are arranged
Why are most tombstones gray
scared, afraid to die
are you saved?
from what, ourselves
you can't hurt me
Bob Shank-Nov. 30th, 2006
Copyright © Bob shank | Year Posted 2006
A strange sight upon a lonely road.
A dream ripped in half.
Looking closer, I wonder what was the travail.
An old price tag attached, making me wonder at what price it was sold.
Along the edges, tattered and torn, it gave forth an evil laugh.
As if some sly devil concocted a way to turn someone pale.
Onward I traveled, with pack upon my back.
To the left and right of the road were littered with more broken dreams.
So many that one could not keep track.
Some having been blown into the parallel stream.
So, I checked the pack upon my back.
And, yep all my dreams were there in a stack.
Cold winds howl, trying to rip my back pack to shreds.
Freezing were the winds, but forward I march.
Never losing sight of my dreams in spite of many dreads.
They all hold up strong even though many times I'm in a lurch.
Suddenly I see people returning to the road.
Going back and picking up their dreams.
Dusting them off and restoring them to their pack.
Each and every one said to me, you are quite bold.
To go forth and not let the cold winds of fate not destroy your knack.
To face life as it comes and not give up even if offered gold.
Good, bad fortune, are likewise of no importance.
Put a failed dream back in your pack and maybe a new day will appear.
Where you can unpack that dream and give it another go.
But, for today, march forward, today's failure might tomorrow's dance.
You gave it your best, and win or lose, that game has ended with a spear.
Win or lose, that game is done so pack it's knowledge away in your pack and grow.
Suddenly down the road a new vista appears and a brand new game.
Left high and dry or victorious are the two possible ends of any venture.
But in truth, knowledge is all you will have, win or lose.
For tomorrows game is just around the bend, all the same.
Win or lose, the game of life only ends for the moment within sight of the new adventure.
So, to quit and call it the end, only makes you look like a goose.
Copyright © James Ray Morris | Year Posted 2010
“WHAT IS A SAD DAY IN AMERICA?”
It is a “Sad Day” in America when you wake up every day worrying about being
black, educated and female.
It is a “Sad Day” in America when you wake up every day and there is a new battle.
It is a “Sad Day” in America when you wake up living on the outside of the
American Dream, but you live within America and you have nightmares about
walking in the shoes of another race in your view.
It is a “Sad Day” in America when Civil Rights begin to regress over 40 years.
It is a “Sad Day” in America when you have to worry about what religion or
denomination you belong too.
It is a “Sad Day” in American when the words “I can” in the word American does
not represent “I can because I am free.”
Instead it becomes an obstacle because others continue to suppress me---
because of my race, religion, sex, ability or disability?
It is a “Sad Day” in America when we accept mediocracy.
It is a “Sad Day” in America when we cannot accept our fellow man or fellow
It is a “Sad Day” in America when others cannot hear or see.
It is a “Sad Day” when we can no longer show empathy.
It is a “Sad Day” when all we do is “nothing”.
The “Glorious Day” will come when we learn the history of others, walk with
others by empathizing with others and consider ourselves brothers and sisters
in “One America”, one fight, one battle, one love-- until that time “it is” and “will
be” a “Sad Day” in America.
copyright@2006 by Carrie M. Love-Atkins
Copyright © Carrie Love-atkins | Year Posted 2006
I do not know?
1 Billion Rising.
For Men Everywhere.
Stop! Listen! Think! Act!
Stop the abuse!
Listen to the voices!
Think of how you treat,
Act now to change yourself!
Stop! Listen! Think! Act!
stops when you stop,
Stop! Listen! Think! Act!
is perpetrated by,
Stop! Listen! Think! Act!
stops when us men stop,
Stop! Listen! Think! Act!
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013
America, why did you stray from the old way.
A constitution put forth, the foundation of our land,
barely recognizable what was originally Jefferson's hand.
Tarnished and smudged by misinterpretation,
overindulgence and greed, to satisfy political,
judicial, and journalistic need.
Once majority rule, now bordering on ridicule,
the law of the land, ever changing, meeting demands,
of whoever takes a stand.
America, why did you stray, parents unable to discipline,
fear children undisciplined now rule, school in chaos,
students unruly, guaranteed to pass, unprepared for their future,
parents unsure, wish for the past, hope the next generation,
won't be like the last.
America, why did you stray, streets used to be a place to play,
neighbors knew one another, socialized every day,
doors left unlocked, nothing to fear, families stayed close,
helped one another, took care of mother.
Now drugs rule the day, hate and crime more common than play,
multiple locks symbolic of today, rarely talk to a stranger,
living in fear; life no longer precious, taken away,
day after day, the bloody count rises, a country in crisis,
victims pay, guilty appeal, courts give them the best deal.
Nobody protests for victims rights, put a murderer to death,
they scream all night.
America, why did you stray, hatred and bigotry alive
and well today, nationalities split, long for the old way,
when an American, was just an American, now hyphenation,
the accepted way.
America, why did you stray, once an industrial giant
you gave it away, too high a standard for industry to pay,
moved out of country, the new American way, unemployment,
poverty, homelessness rapidly increasing, ruined lives,
while billions are spent on so called allies.
America, why did you stray, what's written today,
barely address the wrongs building every day,
religion is accepted, God is not,
country divided, politically split,
presidential bashing provides journalistic wit,
hatred and bigotry, live for it.
America why did you stray, new chapters every day,
really a damn shame.
Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010
Just as we live and just as we die
We laugh, kill and crucify
We are no more our brothers than we are ourselves
We are the players
With the tools and talent of the efficient demise
Of war, famine and greed
We do rise
Of the ever constant ricochet of freedom in our ears
As we wrap our fallen dead in a shroud of rights, laws and bills
And continue to improve the technology, the precision
The assurance of absolute destruction
Buying death is easy
Dealing is easier
The career choice of many
A thriving business with prestige and power
Taking, wanting, hungry for the rush
So young, so fragile
Blood is running in the streets
A seemingly endless fountain of misguided youth
Falling, one after the other
So far from the truth
What good has ever come from a gun ?
Why kill ?
Why are we arming our children ?
Our future ?
Are you blind to the fact ?
Do you not hear the sound ?
Do you not see ?
Do you not care ?
We are killing ourselves
Stealing each others dreams
Each others families
Why pro-create ?
To produce, raise, and nurture more disposable targets ?
Is there another use for guns ?
1 + 1 = 0
One bullet + one individual = one less reason to care
We are waging war upon our brothers for money, love and survival
All to easy....................
Living In Fear Everywhere
Eric (and sometimes not)
Copyright © Eric Nolan | Year Posted 2009
I do not know?
People say that they know,
Then she asks them is that so?
Do you know how I feel?
Do you measure every meal?
What it's like to take a shot,
At 7 o'clock on the dot?
You don't know a single thing,
Of the girl with a broken wing.
She's limited on her food,
Which puts her in a real foul mood.
When her blood sugar suddenly drops,
She all of a sudden flips and flops.
She can't even stand up strait,
She thinks that she might actually faint.
You people think you understand,
The most you can do is lend a hand.
Diabetes is no joke,
She can't even have a single coke.
She and her mom worry every day,
They wonder if she'll be okay.
Her bloodsugar can drop really low,
She can instantly become a real big foe.
It can even go really high,
She swears that it can reach the sky.
So for the people that say they know,
I ask them now, is that so?
Copyright © Racquel Grim | Year Posted 2010
like the raven
who taps taps upon
your chamber door
do not fret my Virginia
for it's my shadow
moving across the floor
this is what I'm telling you my darlin
and nothing more
I still call your name
come to me virginia
come hear the tap tap
upon your chamber door
for only you my love
I surrender and never more
wind howls in blanket snows
here I stand so all alone
broken hearted and misconstrued
my Virginia who lies under stars and moon
just a tap tap upon your chambers door
tis I and nothing more
tales of hidas truth
blackbird sings harps cords
just like the tap tap upon your chambers door
my sweet Virgina whom I adore
for there'll be love waiting and nothing more
as I lay right next to you in this tomb
I counted only seven who have even knew
the times of this raven who
tapped tapped upon your chambers door
twas only I and will be never more
Tribute To Edgar Allen Poe
And His Young Bride Virginia
Also To His Poem The Raven
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2009
Drugs, Drugs! that's all that I need.
At least thats all I used to believe.
Drugs, Drugs! that's all that I did.
I didn't even think of my kids.
Drugs, Drugs! that's all that I want.
I didn't even care that I was wrong.
Drugs, Drugs! they're in my home.
Now both of my kids are gone.
Drugs, Drugs! straight to my head.
I lay here now, because I'm dead.
Drugs, Drugs! is this what you want?
If so, this will be your on sad poem.
Copyright © PATRICK ALLMAN | Year Posted 2006
I'm over it
I'm giving up
I don't have to do it
Yet you force me to like I'm a chump
I avoid it like an illness
You let it go
But today is the day
You took it no more
You didn't yell
Yet you exchanged insults
You hurt my feelings
That was the result
You called me a girl
You called me a clown
And if this keeps up
You're going down
Can't you see
I don't like PE
I'm not being rebel
But you scare me into anxitey
Just leave me alone
You treat me like a drone
You're not getting forgiveness
But you can get off my blacklist
If you cease and desist
Copyright © Tyrone Johnston | Year Posted 2010
Do you believe in the things that you've always known,
Can you understand the things you've been shown.
Is it the visions you see that make you believe,
Or is the feelings you get when you've been deceived.
The pain you feel a never ending ache ,
Tearing your heart and soul from you every day.
Time ticks slowly pounding away at you,
Throbbing heart breaking and there's nothing you can do,
Must I settle for these lost and broken dreams,
Because it has all the signs that what it seems.
How much should a man endure to find his way,
It cant possibly be like this hard for me every day.
There is nothing so frustrating as being so confused,
Especially when you've discovered that you've been used.
I will get through this lonely phase I have no doubts,
But I'm sure there will come a day I'll figure it all out.
Cautiously I walk the path that's been laid before me,
In faith I will continue for I know he will let me see.
Life will be thrown at you in so many different ways,
I will be prepared for these things for the rest of my days.
Broken dreams will be the learning tree for me to grow ,
Living my life with Joy Happiness is what I'll always Know.
Copyright © TIMOTHY CARTER | Year Posted 2013
Land of the free
Home of the slaves
The blood, sweat and tears of my ancestors resonate
Amongst the soil where they were slain
I’m hearing their struggle
I’m feeling their pain
I can’t imagine being forced to part from my family
All for massa’s gain
So I pay homage to those who promoted change
People like every slave who tried to escape
Nat Turner, Ms Carlotta, Harriet Tubman
And the safe houses who were in accord
And peg leg Joe with his song
Follow the drinking gourd.
People like, the disregarded - those thrown overboard
And who was dismissed and defamed
The ones who were stripped of their soul, their pride, their names
The list could go on
The full will never be told
So I pay homage to others who were bold
Like John Brown, The Freedom Riders, Sojourner Truth
Ida B Wells, Phyllis Wheatley, Maya Angelou,
Langston Hughes and Charles Drew
George Washington Carver, Ruby Bridges
Booker T Washington and Mary McCleod Bethune
Charles Houston, Ralph Bunche, Fredrick Douglass
WEB Dubois, Paul Robeson, Ralph Abernathy
Benjamin Banneker, Marcus Garvey and Crispus Attucks
Who’s death by the way
Symbolized the American lie
You cant declare the rights of all men
While the people of African decent rights get denied
But still we rise
Thanks to Dr Martin Luther King, Malcolm X,
The Black Panthers, the Buffalo Soldiers and Tuskegee Airmen
None who were showed any love
Yeah it’s an uphill battle,
But obviously greatness can be done.
We can rise above this stigma
That blacks are lazy and daunting
That our worth is null and void
And in essence minus nothing
And of all the names mentioned
And the greatness of their successes
No one has been able to erase the evil transgressions of a racist mind
And once you have experienced just a taste of it
It changes your perception of time
The oppression beats like the drum on the chariot
Of when it was finally time to escape to freedom
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2011
Beauty of nature
Why condense it down to God?
Isn’t life enough?
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
An old man looking out his door,
gaze fixed on a distant shore,
reminiscing to a time, not of happiness,
or, the prospect of a bright future,
to when he was sick to his very core,
to when as a youth, he went to war
A time before infallibility had meaning,
patriotism and bravado the craze,
the future was still unknown,
vigor for life at its all time high,
a time for romance, partying, buying,
no thought of pain, deformity, dying
Too young to understand or question,
ship to foreign shore, medals abound,
will impress the girls next time in town,
sacrifice not temporary,
a legacy etched into a wall, few will remember,
flesh shredded, burned, torn,
A time, when he willingly went to war,
will happen no more,
all lost in youth, now unrelenting,
no blind obedience,
long life, his number one ambition
As he turns back from the door,
he thinks of the youth,
here now, soon no more,
lessons never learned,
the call to war,
to common the roar,
complacency the mood,
another generation removed
The old man agonizes
over what was originally not known,
war is preventable,
life too precious to waste,
the solution simple,
his vision, maybe too late
Send old men to the front to fight,
arthritis, heart disease, poor eyesight,
let the youth enjoy their life,
his near over, its only right
Send old men, to the front, to fight
ask them to give up their life,
patriotism and bravado, still alive,
will and desire would not last the night,
old men do not rush to death in their twilight,
failure inevitable, the old man smiles,
knows he's right
Wars not possible,
if old men, are sent to fight
Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010
Green bark a prism creates,
Feel the pull of earth, you must.
Rotates, a slime of endless hates,
Can hold me not, this world’s crust.
Friendship’s ties, isolation Deflates,
Succumbs, my spaceship, to bitter rust.
Mist, my soul forever permeates,
Lift-off, booms the rocket’s thrust.
My spirit when light returns, elates,
Swamps swell, swallowed hope’s swirling dust.
Trapped, I am, until student from fate
Arrives to learn; Cloud City or bust.
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
It's Christmas! Christmas!
That time of year
When people are filled...
With holiday cheer?
Yeah right. . .
I really do wish it were true
But people are people
Through and through
It's not about happiness anymore
Or in respect to what matters.
In reality it concerns what you get
And the food that is piled on the platters.
What has happened to the world of today?
Where is the 'loving and giving...'?
Now it is all just me, me, me.
Is this a nightmare? Or are we actually living.
Yep we might have a lot of things
Hang on! Let's add some more
It isn't the family that I'm expecting
But the postman knocking at the door.
When the topic turns to Christmas cheer
Lets go stuff our faces...
Break out all that lovely beer!
Chuck away those graces!
But... Suddenly the month is over
There go all the gifts you gave
Your debt payments crawl closer and closer
And you become a material slave.
Copyright © Annie De Lys | Year Posted 2012
Unforgettable sweet horizon like the sleeping woman's hips...
Tortuous destiny whose yellow sadness tips
With centuries of sacred silence ;
After I pass the sacred glass beads through
Since the pink dawn and the sweet dew;
After I live "Philokalia", blessing the Lord's name
With one thousand sad prayers,
With faith that can move the mountains,
With complete devotion and obedience,
Silent like a statue of long endurance,
Could I remember her again?
From eternity, for ever had been
Above the waters without border,
The light of that very beginning in no world
And no time, but this cloud and the first Word
Who changed the trembling no time's order,
So that the paradise still mirrors in her eyes green…
Beard like our bishop, you'll wear:
Lost you'll be for this world, my friend…
But your secret mad hope still moves like a lizard
In front of the rocks with human face.
With "Philokalia", your dreams will ascend...
Maybe, from heaven will drop a tear:
With bitter taste of grass and leaves of any honey September;
And the dawn with scent of woman will rest in no time's amber.
Copyright © Ovidiu Bocsa | Year Posted 2007
The devil walks
and while the devil sits
the devil picks up a tired fruit
rotting, and with jagged nails he peals
slowly, the tender fruit bruising
and he tastes it, smacking his dried lips
and the devil eats
decayed fruit and sour wine nothing lush and sating
then the devil rests
and resumes his walk,
and later the devil sits again
rubs his feat
and goes to bed
and in the morning
he breaks his fast on curses and lies nothing so filling as figs and nuts
and begin the devil’s walk again,
on the road our thoughts paved
where all that grows is bad and unwell
to the cross our words built
where flames dance and all is unwell
and he is condemned
upon the hearing of his name
and the wobbling of his first steps
to walk a road less traveled,
to be the leader
of our very own crusade
armed with words
to see him burn,
our crusade of one
on roads first paved upon his birth
to bring the devil down.
The devil walks
The devil eats
and pelted by our stones
He does but sleep
For what we sow
The devil reaps
and there is justice in punishment
there is reward in reckoning
there is bitterness in my mouth
as I say these words
Copyright © Samir Georges | Year Posted 2012
asylum housing - insane constrain
longing for rescue - domain remain
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2011
So many thoughts come to mind
If only I could really go back in time
Change or undo my life’s violent and sexual crimes
Tell those around me to open their eyes
Pay Attention to the signs
If only one wish could really rewind
Those pedophilic hands of my life-time…
Then I stopped and started to think
Who would I be if this didn’t happen to me?
What of the woman I’d come to be
The wisdom I’d come to see
And my children who’s lives are abuse free
As a result of my past… my history…
Now, with eyes wide and mind free
Heart pounding, air, LOVE and life in me
Blessed with children to change my legacy,
Equipped with words and strength to share my story… my poetry
I’d wish only to open the eyes of the blind
The mouths of the abused and the hearts of our society…
I’d make them see… I’d make them see
So no other child has to end up like me…
** For the "If I Had One Wish Contest"
Copyright © Walayee Poet Lay Whitlock-Ishway | Year Posted 2011
My ancestors walking in the night
using oil lights and moonlight for guides
while being instructed to Wade in the Water
to camouflage their scents like disguise
The Sweet Chariot awaited
so they could ride away
Harriet was a soldier
and it wasn't an option to be caught during the day
That's the same mentality Nat Turner had when he sang
They would follow the drinking gourd
so all were in accord to go north
The Gospel Train was coming
and at the end of the journey
was a fine reward
Freedom was coming
and it was a long time coming and
they walked until they heard freedom bells ringing
and I still hear their tired footsteps running
Thinking of My Darling Nelly Gray
Stolen from my arms a random September day
and eliminated our chances to run away together
No family ties, no love, no strength says the oppressor
Then I hear the drums beat in the darkness
giving me the hope of finally being free
Maybe I'll follow them this time on faith
on bended knee
There must be a place for me among the light
of this darkness
Among oppression, thieves, evil-doers
no thought on their conscience
Thank goodness for the safe houses that
supported our traveled distances
and for the conductors who bore witnesses
and may God have mercy on the souls who
were against this
and on those who chose to forget this sh@!
I still hear crying in quilts of safety
because I know that the burden was heavy
to be at the mercy of nature and patrol men
catching run-away slaves for money
Some did it bare feet with freedom ahead of this
loved induced journey and they made it
So all that bull about how your life is hard
just stuff it in an envelope and save it
Copyright © humble b | Year Posted 2012
Betrayed by my own body
My sex inside
not who you see outside
Not gay, not straight
just different, many say weird
Aching for every day privileges
enjoyed by most people
My soul crying
for what feels lost
for what I don't have
My label is transgender.
Copyright © Deborah Zambo | Year Posted 2008
Knocking on success’ door, irrespective of its intensity
is worthy of a response and an attention.
When life smiles and nature is happy, the one who passes their estate
is embraced by favour to take luck home.
Showcased by a tale
of two counterparts of same platform but different worlds.
He’s serious, but she’s playful,
a test defining their progress into another phase is the huddle.
From book to book, knowledge he accumulates
even sweat’s discomfort is no match
for such a determination which scares both life and death.
His living is subjected into a miserable triangle;
lectures, canteen and home is all he knows
even his dreams have been converted to a library for research
and a single spoken word from his lips
pours out a barrage of wisdom.
His understanding then gives an entire jungle
the salvation of great civilization.
Her time for merry is never taken for a joke,
her schedules are tabulated by the inventors of fun,
leisure and study share the spoil of her engagements,
pleasure tops the yardstick for all her toiling
and her indifference to progress in life
makes the demons of failure lust after her course.
Nineteen weeks of play and a week of work is her formula
on the eleventh hour, before the day of reckoning
she reads in compartments,
choosing her focus through random selection.
He commands the justification to succeed
while she queues in the long line of fate.
Passing through this is a decorated corridor to his success
raising her hands in pathetic surrender is her bullet-less gun.
He’s sure, she’s not; he’s ready, she’s frightened,
he walks confidently; she does it in a gait-like manner,
the heat of such examination he absorbs, but she gets burnt.
What next, is the short incubation period of truth
when several hearts await a straight forward judgement
and comfortable minds anticipate a glorious confirmation
with all efforts well deserving of the medal
and a prosperous finding, a worthy result of true seekers……
She passed!..................... He did not!
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016
Why this boat?
Could it be boat of destitution?
Conveying Epidemics, Hunger, Rags,
Malnutrition and Illiteracy.
Descend from me!
Banish from my world!
You cursed word!
You that called education a"Privilege"!
Patrimony of ghetto!
W.H.O called you "Lion of Africa",
U N called you "Agenda ".
Predicament to black,
Livelihood to white.
Harking to conviction,
Capsize and raise no more.
For "Black Rose" to smile again
On the land of plenty.
Copyright © Kolawole Owoigbe | Year Posted 2010
I do not know?
The sexual abuse of children is all to common these days. The effects are everlasting. These crimes effect more than
just the victim. I am a member of a poetry site (Poet's Workshop) and we were challenged to write a poem about such
abuse. It is our way of spreading the word, helping to fight crime against our children, and help support the victims.
They need to know they are not alone, it is not their fault and to help them to heal! This was my submission. Not for
the easily disturbed, this is real people, it happens all the time!
Holding back the tears,
An innocent Angel suffers in silence.
Trembling hands and aching heart;
Anticipating the eminent violence.
Lord, please let the day last
and keep the sun from falling
Protect her from the night
When evil comes calling
Her prayer is unanswered,
Under the covers she weeps.
A twist of the door knob;
Into her room he creeps.
She sees the beastly silhouette
From beneath her cotton sheet,
Tiny fists clinch, writhing in pain
Her agony; his desire is replete
His words were gentle; not threatening
She believed his love was true
When he said my little princess,
This is what all DaddyÍs do.
MommyÍs are jealous of this little game
That only DaddyÍs get to play
You can never tell a living soul
They wonÍt believe you anyway
And so she kept this little secret.
And kept her bruises well concealed.
She knew that Mommy would be hurt
If the truth were ever revealed
The late night games became more frequent
Often more than once a night
Love should not cause such pain
There is no way this could be right
She called her Mother to her room
Mommy, I think you need to know
DaddyÍs done some awful things
He touched me down below
He told me never to tell you
That youÍd just be angry with me
Oh I am so very sorry
Mommy can you forgive me
That very instant, an arrow pierced her heart
Her knees buckled, she dropped to the ground
Speechless, immersed with guilt
Rage, Anger, Contriction all compound
The light inside her died that day
Unable to protect her own creation
Two spirits broken, one by the hands of another
And one sentenced by her own damnation
Copyright © Dawn Drickman | Year Posted 2005
< Driving along in my automobile
Seen homeless man holding sign will work for his meals
Should I stop or should I just Go !
Should I give Or Should I just say hell No !
But what if that was me
Crying out with such pitty
Not knowing where to get next meal
Three kids crying at worn out heels
Cardboard boxes to call our home
Dumpster diving for pieces of foam
Think I'll give him a piece of my pot
Opened wallet and gave him alot
A nice twenty came on out
Wiped out was his sadden pout
Drove by an hour later
Homeless camp wiped off roadmarks slatter
Wonder where dirty Dan had now roamed
Just hope he finds a better suitable home
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2011
There, a note lays on the table
And I would read it, if I were able
I move the candle a little nearer
In hopes to make its message clearer
My heart is racing, my hands now sweating
But, my mind tells me there's no use fretting
Will she stay or is she going
Time must tell, for there's no knowing
Lines on paper I could heed
If only I had learn to read
Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2015