Best Civil Poems
This evening I listen to a Rock 'n' Roll band
Their track is Civil War, as our world now expands
To us it's the same size but to others they despise
For the want of greed exists in their killer hungry eyes
Where do I start, to say of their evil spread
A different starvation leaving the world in evil dread
It's not our today's but our yesterdays years
That our history tells us, of our everlasting torn tears
Cambodia, the Lebannon, and Sri Lanka's Indian sun
Rebels who demand better at the end of a gun
Guaetamala and Peru with their Shining Path
Villagers in terror decrying it's ever last
Democracy is our power in it's controllable exist
Like the Shining above, how long will our future paths persist
Recent news in the Arabic World, has taken tyrants by surprise
For decades they have stolen with their torturing infidel lies
I could go deeper and deeper to describe these evils acts
In wanton blood spillage, to increase civil war torn facts
For this is the world we live in, it appears we determine to live
Maybe in our lifetime it will be on our doorstep, we open, our lives will sieve
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-8.php
When civil war's
knocking at your door
Isn't it up to you
Lincoln never imagined
today’s white victim zeitgeist,
pouting persecuted supremacists,
their clenched jaws and fists.
Civil war rages in limbic memory.
Encoded somewhere,
the panic attacks and mirages.
Nobody is qualified because everybody is responsible.
So many whites have graduated from the struggle,
showcasing their diploma from the mill.
Lincoln never imagined
modern virtual vitriol,
merciless memes lashing out at specters,
infusing, inciting depravity among the sleep deprived.
These words are battleships aimed at the reviled.
The unshielded summon civility.
They beckon familiar principles.
But rabid cougars wait in hiding, eager to pounce.
All the feeble markets for platitudes have failed,
as subliminal cavities endure each generation.
Mental lynch mobs, rebel flags, supremacy’s utopia.
Lincoln never imagined
a 21st century cartoon president,
a white nationalist clicking social network epithets,
a whining overgrown tormenter
with a cult of Stalinist believers.
Where are the intelligible?
How is all this animated fury converted?
What is the lesson plan?
Who will bury the code?
How long this agonizing journey into normality?
Lincoln never imagined.
Published Tuck Magazine 04/ 2019
When civil war
is knocking at your door
Isn't it up to you
to stop it
or allow it
to grow inside your heart
and grow inside your life
and tease your evil side
until you also die
like all of those you let die
Critically injured
How deep the cut
Surely time would heal
A river of blood
From the wounds
Her sons lay dead in the fields
Extremities mangled
Conscience tormented
From sores that festered and burst
Bloated bodies
Stench of death
As bigoted hate was rehearsed
Reluctant surrender
Her fever broke
The physical damage immense
The worst had past
Was the belief
Final outcome remained in suspense
Her body blemished
By the scars
A never ending reminder
Emotional wounds
Linger and loom
Sadly she can't put behind her
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
(Civil) War
With incision, create division.
Bury the red, white, and blue.
Play them all, they will fall.
A masterminded coup.
O say can you see, they all disagree.
Just watch the division grow.
Hating each other, brother on brother.
Milk and honey no longer flow.
Blood in the street, vision complete
War won, by words on the net.
So easy to do, nothing is true
Fake news a sharp bayonet.
We're in the foothills of a second civil war
the divide between left and right
burning and widening
Peace undermined by the rich behemoth... indifference
the uneven eye of the media leviathan
universities raping our children's minds
impregnating with stalinleninputinxi disease.
Slapping lady liberty in the mouth
with metal dongs of intolerance.
Cutting out tongues of freedom of speech-of religion-of differing opinion
and the socialist/commies and pacifist wonder why
we the people are stockpiling high caliber rights.
It's because mad clowns are running the government
entitled mad dogs are crapping in the streets
the elite and naive emptying jails and asylums
onto our streets.
While they sleep soundly behind gated communities
while their storm troopers are slicing the stars from old glory
never satisfied with anything.
Always burning and cutting and running-reaping
never sitting-talking -discussing-seeding...
burning tongues and bloody stars.
Amassing in the foothills of the second civil war.
From the grounds of the south during the sweltering summer
of Negros in America*, came white violence and murder. The
suppression and degradation of decades. Americans treated
as less then a dog because they were not of a certain color.
For a country founded on “All Men are Created Equal” it is not
The truth or reality for many. When a voice came from angels
Dancing above, of a man with purpose and of dignity, standing
Strong in the body of Martin Luther King Jr. He walked degraded
ghetto streets with others of his purpose. From the steps of Abraham
rang out his voice in glory. His Dream, Our Dream. His Courage
became our Courage. From Rosa Parks to black student protests
to sit ins, marches and songs. John F. Kennedy, little black girls
and Lynden Johnson. A peaceful fight for civil rights was taken
to the White House ~ they won. Then the angels wept when
Martin was gunned down in the middle of our dream. His
Dream is not lost. He sings angels’ home, a warrior’s
call to Rise again in peaceful dissent. The white robes
of little minds are on the rise against civility. Angels
danced when he was born but we cannot dance yet….
gentle minister
freedom, peace, equality
born to show a dream
written 8-21-2019
for PS Contest:
Write a new haibun on the theme:
"Angels danced the day you were born
and they wept when they welcomed you home"
They're knocking at me door
In the middle of the night
They're knocking at me door
Giving me an awful fright.
They taking me
To a camp where
Ashes fall like black snow.
I'll not be overjoyed
By goose-stepping boys
With boots to their knees, oh hey,
And brown shirts and billy clubs
Cheese grater belly rubs
Coming to take me away.
although weightless beyond skyline’s phases
visibly mirroring iridescent dew--
there is something soft about the blue-yellow
of twilight, like a meditation of fragile
chorale from swallows wafting along thin
outlines, minutes between dusk and sunrise…
low fire. warm joy. cozy beds.
and so, as moonglow wanes vanishes
bequeathing its crown to early dawn ,
we nourish the pulp of eve's honey
that twirls on a filmy carousel of regret
or perhaps, answered promises.,
for when eve’s dreams are gone, undone
we reach them within twilight’s embrace.
Dated 3/03/2018
For Pick a Title--Free Verse of Edward Ibeh
Oh! those gods of ancient times who looked kindly upon this land-
and its people- it was from their hearts we toiled while they dwelt silently among us- they who witnessed the blood we shed.
Oh! how we cried out their names for liberation as they guided us to command an army - to fight for that which was ours.
See how they witnessed as the earth turned red.
Oh! how we prayed to our Mother when our bellies were empty- our backs broken, and the dead lay on the ground,
Did we not see as the Eagle soared above us while a hot sun burnt our skin.
Oh! see now how they sleep, easy and comforted by our sacrifices- our toil and
our suffering - does not the Mother herself smile upon us with affection?
Our sons gather about her safe in eternal peace.
MULTILAYERED: THE CAUSE IS CIVIL RIGHTS!
How time has changed.
I am a colored woman by DNA living in a country of diversity.
I can remember my first day of school when my teacher asked me to self-identify.
“I am Native American”, I said.
In truth, my great-grandmother was Native American and I felt it was alright to
claim her as my racial identity.
Nevertheless, an N was written on my cumulative record.
Later I found this meant *****.
The third Monday of each January Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. birthday is
celebrated.
This poem is in commemoration of his cause.
***
I have the right to express myself in the United States of America.
I have the right to self-identify the best way for me.
I am mixed-blood from all borders of this part of the universe.
I have the right to be heard and to seek a meaningful life that is vested in a liberated
mind.
The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) is there
to eradicate.
This has not been done as to this day.
I have the right to Civil Rights.
Therefore, I shall not be moved when the movement did not breakthrough.
***
The tribulations came from slavery time.
History of the white man crimes
Equality, equity, and identity deprived.
Crusaders depicted the cause.
Assembled for their voice to be heard.
Unity was formed.
Sources with civilian purposes
Equality is only the foundation that has been scaffold.
Cause I am endowed with inalienable rights
In a nation of diversity and pride,
Vigorously I dramatize
Issues of my civil rights
Legally being denied.
Right to a fair trial
I represent self,
Government and justice are on my side.
Human rights are in all minds’ eye.
To this country, I bring forth my freedoms... Preamble.
Statue of law exemplifies in that I have "the right to life, liberty, and pursuit of
happiness because all humankind are created equally".
Issues today are in a manifold
Sequestered by the lack of applicable law.
_________________________________________________|
Penned January 18, 2015!
Revised July 1, 2015!
He could fight and win battles, could this General Ulysses Grant!
Other of Lincoln's generals were continually sayin', "I can't!"
Though 'twas well-known that General Grant relished his schnapps,
Even soused he could concoct solid battle plans by studyin' his maps.
Becomin' frustrated with his other generals and their lack of action,
Abe suggested to an aide that if it would help them get some traction,
He'd like to know what Ulysses drank and where he got the stuff,
So he could send a barrel to every general to get him off his duff!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
They stood in the bright Andalucian sunlight
The noble sunflowers with stance upright
Massed yellow ranks portray solidarity
Faces and heights display uniformity
Unquestioning loyalty to the hot sun
First the seeds are sown and their hearts are won
Swaying in the breeze their gaze never falters
As their master’s arc continually alters
Brown, yellow or purple faces can be
And a bright yellow halo surrounds all three
Broad coarse-toothed leaves on spiral stems lie
These giant plants stand fifteen feet high
Beneath their beauty lies valuable treasure
Leaves, seeds and oil to be used at our pleasure
Dried seeds are eaten or ground to make bread
Oilcake to stock and poultry are fed
As blazing sun sets on hot, summer days
Sunflowers bow their heads through lack of sun rays
But with summer over they wither and die
Ready for use as food supply
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Published in Ensalada Mixta: Observations and Inspirations
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Little can compare with the dazzling yellow of fields of sunflowers in the Spanish sunshine. However, it is a short-lived spectacle and soon decay takes hold. It is a story about nature’s way. It is also a story which can happen to the people of a country – hope, oppression and destruction. The difference is that there is no choice in nature but there is a choice for people."
2nd place in Have You Published. Sponsored by Line Gauthier November 2020
I cant breathe
Because you do not hear
My voice pleading.
My heart bleeding
A brother, a sister grieving
For the loss of life
That you have taken
Not in mistake
But in wanton evil
I can't breathe
When you should understand
my plight. my suffering, my blight
At your hands, your fists, your knees
Choking, thumping then deceased
In a swift act, another life is stolen
And then the mourning
I can't breathe
When I am anchored to the bottom rung
No hope of stepping forward
Only way is down
My future finished, before it began
My destiny drifting in a cloud,
In uncertainties
In soliloquies of redemption songs.
I can't breathe
Of the heartache caused
Newsflash!! another live lost.
To the hatred and indiscretions
Of an evil, dated in the past
Of post colonial dominance
Hoping, slavery will last
I cant breathe
That from the cradle to the grave
You denied me
Opportunities and growth, that defines me
Brutality and pain you prescribed me
An in the stench of my suffering you plied me
With pain and hurt that riled me
Not thinking of the consequences
You start
to
squeeze
holding my breath,
my uttering,
With my last breath, I plead.
Mommy, hear my prayer
He is killing with his knees
Sinking to oblivion, with my last breath
I yield,
Let me breathe,
Let me breathe.