Best Barricades Poems
I wiped a tear from my eye
Didn't know I still could cry
Thought I was too jaded
My heart, near barricaded...
Today I saw an Arab hug a Jew
Enemies back in '72
Forgotten now, what caused their hate
~ We humans are all soul mates
We join the public social functions
To fill our time with emptiness,
And list our names with organizations
To barricade ourselves from loneliness.
We surround ourselves with similar faces,
Acquaintances forgotten when out of view;
They neither know our names nor places--
The friends we have are all too few.
We build our concrete dams of silence,
As if the passing time we could slow.
Barricades both defend and imprison,
Leaving us with our thoughts, alone.
Tear down your dams, and breach my barricades.
In the daily scheme of days
Where fit and bold survive
Solitude is one’s chief intent
In our plan to stay alive
People often find themselves
Apart and separated
Aloof and almost all alone
Their link with life negated
They are in a neutral place
But when there’s storm or strife
They get behind a barricade
And live an empty life
Keeping their lonely heart intact
Their fingers pure and clean
Never getting self-involved
With subjects crass or mean
For life to have more meaning
Kindness is the mission
Reach beyond yourself and heed
Someone’s sad petition
Friendship blocks the solitude
With all its hues and shades
Mix your life with others
Remove those barricades.
Why do flowers have such color and charm,
The sky is blue: the woolly clouds march past
Au revoir to the day. To memories of unconquered
Problems and market struggles that avail us naught.
We retire to rest and the stars shine and a moon
Comes on more often to share our sleepless nights.
The race is won, the best horse in majestic form?
The deer fly past, the woods rejoice their grace?
The green trees grudge not the shade they grant
To one and all and ask them not who they are.
We witness the throb of life, the Universe hums
With a rhythm and energy that encircle the earth.
In the lion’s mane, the zebra stripes and the dance
Of the majestic peacock! Flamboyant with life:
A vision, a fusion, of red, black and peacock blue!
Why and how from the wet earth comes out grain.
We haul out sea food in tons from deep oceans?
And when the birds fly so high, who guides them
To sources of food and leads them back to nests:
No flight plan nor compass for help but the One
Who holds them dear and saves them from hawks
And predators thirsting for their flesh and blood.
We need to think and think and wonder and find
The answers to our questions all by ourselves.
We have the world all to ourselves, free of cost
We own everything on and above the earth,
Abundant food and the water and milk to drink,
And gold nuggets sprout from deep earth for us
And the richest of diamonds and precious ores.
They are there for you and me. So worry not.
But sit back and inhale the cool breeze, the air
The One has cleansed of toxic fumes and smoke
And the bees bring you honey from flowers
And heavenly perfumes and colors of Paradise.
Man claims he makes all these and struts earth
As though he bought them on his own bourse
Or elsewhere from his hard earned cash or loot.
He is paranoid: some day he might lose all these
He has to defend against enemies unseen, unheard
And he ends barricading against himself in despair.
I tell you it’s been stolen and I have the evidence.
Don’t you even argue, you can trust my great defense.
How do I know you ask again? Because I told you so.
Raise the banner, chant the chant, it’s finally time to go.
Yes we lost in every court, but pay that fact no mind.
Keep repeating after me and confidence you’ll find.
It’s all a vast conspiracy, just trust me for I know.
Whatever questions you may ask, I answered long ago.
If I tell you long enough, I know you will believe.
I alone am truthful and my message you receive.
You cling to every word I speak, my vision you have fed.
Let’s March upon the Capital. Oh, you go on ahead.
Maybe among so many barricades I could hold,
I was born to be read once and never to be read again.
To be glanced at but never to turn heads.
To be a writer and never to be the one written about.
To immortalize the beauty I find in them,
but only to fall under the shadows of my mortality.
Perhaps the simplicity of my existence is what brings the main character comfort.
To become a poet and never an undying poetry.
Capturing words at a glance, as they pass by me,
capturing the hooks under the bright sunlight.
Maybe among so many barricades I could hold,
I was born only to be read once and never to be read again.
Rivers of thoughts flow through my mind, an uninterrupted stream of consciousness,
Metaphors break like waves on the shore, bringing with them echoes of deep melancholy.
In every barricade I raise, I find a new limit of my soul,
A barrier between me and the light that shines so far, so inaccessible.
The pages of my life turn on their own, words fade into silence,
And in each letter, I feel my own ephemerality, my own passage through time.
When the stars fade one by one, when the shadows lengthen,
I remain, a simple observer, a writer without a story, a poet without poetry.
Maybe in all this passage, in this journey through the barricades of life,
There is a hidden beauty, a silent comfort for those who look beyond the surface.
And maybe there, in that simplicity, I find the answer myself,
For maybe, among so many barricades I could hold,
I was born to be read once and never to be read again.
Perhaps among all the barricades I could have held,
I was born to be read once and never to be opened again.
To be glanced at in passing, but never the one who turns heads.
To be a writer and never the one written about.
To immortalize the beauty I find in others,
But only to fall under the shadows of my own mortality.
Perhaps the simplicity of my existence is what brings comfort to the main character.
To become a poet and never an imperishable poem.
Capturing words from a glance as they pass by me,
To catch the hooks under the bright sunlight.
Perhaps among all the barricades I could have held,
I was born only to be read once and never to be opened again.
And somewhere in the chaos,
I learned to live with grace.
In a world of shadows and lights, where stars fade and are reborn,
I stand at the edge of time, a poet draped in melancholy.
The barricades of my life, invisible walls, have held me in place,
I was born to be read once, a book lost in dust and silence.
Glanced at in passing, but never noticed, a shadow among lights,
In a world of turned heads, I remain unseen, a writer of silence.
There are no writings about me, for my words are for others,
The beauty I find, I immortalize in them, but I remain ephemeral.
The simplicity of my existence, a refuge for the heroes of my stories,
I am the poet, but never the immortal poem,
Words pass by me, I catch them, enclosing them in verses,
Sunlight envelops them, but I remain in the shadows.
Perhaps among all the barricades I could have held,
I was born to be read once and never to be opened again.
And somewhere in the chaos of life,
I learned to live with grace, a melancholic poet draped in metaphors.
In a world full of noise, I listen to the silences,
Finding my peace in the chaos, beauty in the ephemeral.
And perhaps, among all the barricades,
I am just a poet, read once and forgotten forever.
Barricades Or Bridges?
By Miracle Man
6/13/2024
All believers we’re appointed,
to be God’s witness.
By our words and actions,
we will prove our fitness.
To our friends, family,
and to a lost and hurting nation.
Our witness light should shine,
toward all of God’s creation.