Best Embassy Poems
Our dinner, boiled to death root vegetables, we swallow in silence as night closes-in on the school. The co-opted Buddhist monastery housing us empties its porcelain thrones into the walled garden’s weedy rear yard. Village women wash: the floors, the pots, the laundry from first light to deep dark. The water runs downhill. War does not stop the drudgery. Where the women sleep is unknown to us. The owners’ are small men; they rule the house with a heavy hand. They teach the techniques of shamanic healing and Thai Massage.
the Green Tara
hangs upon the room's wall:
geraniums on the ledge
The drowse of Friday evening evaporates in a burst of gunfire. Behind the high walls surrounding the school, the sounds of violence escalate. Through open, screen-less, windows sirens sound, the sky lights up and red, yellow, blue, and white prayer flags hang lifelessly from the eaves to the locked gate. Sleep hides, as I do, beneath the covers.
coiled
insecticide smolders:
temple bells sound
The monks, long gone, leave remnants of themselves on the incense coated plaster. Peace sought here was not found. Poverty necessitated the building’s sale. Here on a side street in walking distance from the American embassy, a school for westerner’s storm cellars. The desire to learn Eastern Healing techniques and a common language, English, binds us together: American, French, Spanish, and South African captures of the internet, pilgrims. We come, healers all, undaunted by the Civil War, to Kathmandu, Nepal.
Monday, the riots end on cue. Tourists, again, meander the dust clouded streets, skirting the alley’s begging children. Tea is served in the burgeoning shops. Butchers swat flies from hanging haunches of meat, rare bird vendors walk the street with baskets of exotic birds. And, brazen Westerners stride bare armed, sari-less exposed, and rude, at least until next Friday night—they own the world.
First Published by Mulberry Fork 2016
Categories:
embassy, anxiety, fear, war, ,
Form:
Haibun
Not Forgotten
Psalm 137:5 "If I forget you, O Jerusalem,
let my right hand forget its skill!"
Psalm 137:6 "Let my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth,
if I do not remember you,
if I do not set Jerusalem
above my highest joy!" (ESV)
On May 14, 1948,
The United Nations
Approved the proclamation
Declaring
The “Independent State of Israel.”
Seventy years later,
On Monday, May 14, 2018,
Jerusalem is recognized
As the capital of Israel
With the establishment
Of the American Embassy
In the City of David
By Donald J. Trump, the 45th president
Of the most powerful country
In the world:
The United States of America.
"O Jerusalem, we did not forget you.”
***
Categories:
embassy, christian, history, jewish, religious,
Form:
Verse
"Color me red" this he did say
This is Satan and you must obey
The call of the wild for is it ok?
Who cares as I destroy the day
The red you color is from your vein
The ink that spilled from ever shame
You raped a child in the name of me
You will now suffer ever in eternity
I feel the words escape from your dying breath, "Please Lord dont take it out with
a noose around my neck"
For if you kill me you kill your religion, I promise you, if this noose falls through
the gallow then I will trek
I will find your kind in the after life, even if it down in the basement with your wife, I
will come and get you
You're the one who told me so, created my mind to enlist your blow, is this a
reason you are telling me?
That I must not fight but run away in flee? I'm a coward like you, you see, I die for I
believe in your creed
"My son you are not one of mine
I enlist your soul to preach my kind
You create your own from words of mine
Now rot in hell for the breach of time
And conjur a smell to remember your lie
Befriend your mind as you are left to die
Alone as you wish for your wish is a cry
You are no longer a part of my embassy
Trade your wings for the treatory that be
For a mask supposed to look like me
Horns for you stab at your constant envy
Dont you ever compare you with thee
For are weak and f&ck all that you percieve
Categories:
embassy, devotion, faith, time, visionary,
Form:
Not advertising that flippant flick. I just want to know
where my blooming flivver is. It ruffles my feathers no
end to find out, when exiting the embassy,
that my buggy's whereabouts are a mystery.
I must meet Sherry 'cause her right toe
wants a sweet kiss. Did the camel tow
my car? That blasted mammal! Sherry's dear
foot can't wait! Please do not tell me the deer
took my buggy! That son of a Witch
would fine
me with a very pricey mulct which
isn't fine!
Not another loathsome tax
to put up with! Oh no, Lord, please!
I beg thou hearken to my pleas!
Now, let's come down to tin tacks.
I need my bloody car! A choice bass
cooked by Sherry awaits me. The crass
specimen who's got my car is so base,
and I'm so cross! The camel has a bass
voice that creeps me out! I do not want to
deal with him. I cannot even stomach two
secs the sight of the deer. He's ugly too.
II.
On returning to his flat, mad as a goat,
Ivo found on the door, the following note:
Dear Ivo,
I hereby inform you that your awfully and
illegally parked streetcar has been impounded.
Come pick it up at the City Hall and
bring cash with you for there's a fine. 8 hundred
clams.
Much love,
The Crane from Ukraine.
Blimey! That heartless crane! I won't give her a buck!
Now I know the ruffians weren't the camel and the buck.
Well, let's be fair, it wouldn't be cricket to pass the buck.
I didn't park properly. It's my fault. That's it. I will not buck
at the fine.
III.
I got my car back for free. How? l told the crane;
"I'm in a hurry to meet Sherry who needs me to canoodle
her feet. I'll have tonight for dinner a bass fish with noodles."
"If a foot massage like the ones I used to get in Ukraine.
you give me, I will be happy to call off the mulct." said she.
I pleased her feet very much. She loved it. Then we got some tea.
IV.
I'm on my way home to eat some bass,
with my beloved and awesome lass.
It's so nice to be able to dine
without having paid that gruesome fine.
Categories:
embassy, animal, bird, car, fish,
Form:
Burlesque
The first king size bed was fashioned nearly two thousand years ago,
Not by Thomasville, Broyhill or Bassett, manufacturers we all know.
There was no pillow-top mattress made by Sealy or Simmons for the bed,
Nor a chenille bedspread or foam pillows upon which to rest His head.
The bed was not located in a cozy Hampton Inn or Embassy Suites,
But in a lowly stable with a bed of straw sans snowy-white sheets.
The first King size bed was a simple manger for a royal destined to rule!
A King of Kings was born whose birthday we celebrate this joyous Yule!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
embassy, christmas,
Form:
Couplet
When someone is told to go back in his country
in peace, it is very wise to go early
to avoid public shame.
When the Ultimatum of French ambassador
of 48 hours to leave Niger's territory passed,
Some nigerien officials cut water and power
at French embassy in Niamey so that the ambassador could go to france.
(Ambassador Sylvain Itte had been ordered
to go amid rapidly deteriorating bilateral ties.)
French government and EU continue encouraging him
to stay in Niger thinking to reverse the coup d'état
as there are many sanctions which affect innocent
people" women , children"
French government supporting the ex-rebels
of northern Niger to start violences as Ecowas troupes delay to take final decision to fight Niger for their interests.
France and EU are not for the good of people of Niger
but their mineral resources.
Ecowas and AU sanctions affecting innocent people
and increasing their strength to continue
standing for their rights as they can't lose
this opportunity to cut ties with France
for their true freedom.
When NATO demonised Muhammad Khadafi to be hated by his people to achieve their goals
which were to collect more natural resources
and plant instability in Libya.
Some libyans thought that NATO was to help them
Nevertheless they are crying till today.
Ghanaian military refused to destroy the victory
of people of Niger and they won't be part of military
who want to kill innocent nigeriens
for the benefits of some westerners
who ill-treating even them.
In life , supporting some oppressors
to hit some victims like you,
the payment will be your own cries.
August 31/2023
Categories:
embassy, africa, political,
Form:
Free verse
My feet,
got a rhythm
A nervous beat
Oh the meet
Should I eat more meat?
Nah focus more on wheat
Better calm down and take a seat.
World coming at you like a big huge fleet
They try and feed you but you don't wanna eat
I don't like the taste of there beets
I'd rather give myself some tasty treats
Oh wall street
I ain't gonna eat
Get off my bicycle seat
Filthy ol' wall street smelling like your grandma's toilet seat
gonna throw you in some disgusting embassy suite
I used to have a fear of hurdles, but I got over it.
-Jomarc Bernardo
Categories:
embassy, poetry, political, poverty, pride,
Form:
Rhyme
Now that December has descended
with it's roots of ice and skies of snow
our timber fortress is a sanctuary of ethnographic enlightenment
and embassy that entreats the exchange of craftsmanship,
lately I have been preoccupied with my etymological research,
it is important to President Jefferson, an anthropologist
that we discover the origin of the natives through their languages,
he is obsessed with understanding the diversity of the human race
a bone collector of civilizations and shaman of scholarship,
Private Sheilds, through his blacksmithing expertise
has allowed us to barter iron for corn without which
the Corps of Discovery would either lose vital quantity of provisions,
be reduced to malnourished paupers, or even engage in unscrupulous raiding,
there are still a thousand arduous miles to go
from all estimations, before reaching the Pacific,
as is, the Elders, especially from the Hidatsas
are suspicious of our motives
because of the 18 foot high pallisaded fort we have built adjacent to the Mandans,
so mistrust is suppressed well with an open door policy
and liberal trade of battle axes,
knives, weapon and tool sharpening, kettles, needles and so on,
January 1805,
the new year has introduced 40 below zero weather, syphilis and fists fights,
to stave the ills of boredom we routinely go on hunting expeditions
through the gruelling grip of winter's madness,
another activity that warms the soul are the spectacular jamborees
that conjure the whiles of instincts
and reminds us all how the heart seeks it's deepest expressions,
Cruzzatte plays the fiddle like a tempter of lunatic love
while Silas Goodrich thumbs a mandolin into the dreams of romantic heroism,
the squaws often coo with eyes of diamonds
arms outstretched with fingers swaying like wind blown wheat,
York is a sensation with the Indians
they have never seen a Black Man before
describing him as the black clay of chaos,
they believe there is magic in his skin
touching and rubbing him constantly like a healing stone,
J.A.B.
Categories:
embassy, adventure,
Form:
Epic
Where is humanity?
as Congolese players,
stuffs and fanatics
were about to sing
their national anthem
at Afcon tournament,
they put their right hands
on their mouths
to express the silence
of the international community
into the problems of DRCongo.
they pointed their left hands like guns
on their heads to express different atrocities
which continue taking place
in Eastern of DRCongo.
They seemed so confused after hearing
about the bombardment of the rebels
In one town in East of DRCongo
which killed many folks.
the USA, France , UK , Germany governments
are supplying the rebels behind
the government of Rwanda
As they are pushing the deal to balkanise
DRCongo into many countries.
Many people who understood this powerful mute speech of Congolese players
were so sad.
Congolese blamed different media
for not showing the Congolese supporters from the beginning to the end of their match with Ivory coast ,
as they were wearing some tee-shirts
and uplifting some pamphlets
written " Stop Genocide in DRCongo."
Congolese government found
that the CAF is also complice to that action and stopped their team to participate
to any activity of solidarity which will be organised by CAF.
Some Congolese destroyed their Aerials
of some French Channels which were reporting the Afcon.
Some Congolese marched at the embassy
of France in Kinshasa
And called for the closing of USA, France
, UK , Germany embassies in Kinshasa
As many westerners
are promoters of the wars
in DRCongo.
Where is humanity?
As Congolese continue to be killed
Like animals while the whole World
is silently.
Categories:
embassy, africa, conflict, emotions, violence,
Form:
Free verse
For a date at eight she bathes at five.
In tons of bubble bath,
Barricades her boudoir door,
Eau de cologne marks her path!
Her lingerie must be 'just so',
A froth of frills and lace.
Down with the curlers, up with the hose,
The womanly task of 'fixing her face'!
Donning a frock spun out of dreams,
With a skirt to swish and sway.
Into the slippers, shining and new.
Did Cinderella feel this way?
What gala affair now summons our queen,
Embassy tea or debutante ball?
Oh no! It's a matter of much more import!
Her very first date awaits in the hall!
Composed by my wife, Vera Selena (Osburn) Hinshaw
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
embassy, childhood, happiness,
Form:
Rhyme
This is the Liberia I wanted:
I no longer hide to voice my opinions, because I’m a journalist
I no longer seek refuge at the American embassy, because I’m a
human right activist
I no longer live in panic or fear, because I’m a civilian
Yes! This is the Liberia I wanted.
This is the Liberia I wanted:
Rising from her chaos into a chariot
Bringing her children out from battle into Bethel
Dwelling together through reconciliation and not through retribution
Yes! This is the Liberia I wanted.
This is the Liberia I wanted:
Mighty! Her fame
Glorious! Her name
Sober! Her people
Yes! This is the Liberia I wanted
Categories:
embassy, art,
Form:
Prose Poetry
When you can't relate any more
Your thoughts are out the door
No sympathy, no empathy
Stuck in a foreign embassy
Of a thought process strange
Clever shots are out of range
The drugs, the grog, the women
The warped sense of dominion
Are you stuck in my head
She said or are you dead?
She asked.
Categories:
embassy, absence, addiction, angst, depression,
Form:
Couplet
(On May 1 1960, at the very depth of the
Cold War, CIA pilot Gary Powers was shot
down over the central USSR. Here we are
imagining his conversation with a charge
d'affaires of the US Embassy. Powers
is threatening to go public on CIA
mismanagement and to tell all to the
Russians - the Igors and the Borises.
Powers died soon afterwards in a
helicopter crash.)
What's Thompson's game? He's sent a charge here?
He should have come himself. So, Mister Jinks,
I'm going to assume you're with the firm.
Tell you what happened? Why don't you tell me?
Okay, I didn't trash the Thunderbird -
but I was kinda busy, get my drift?
My face was pulling g's to beat the band
and if you knew the vehicle, you'd know
the seat ejects like bats fly outta hell -
explosive bolts. I'm falling vertically,
and spinning like a top, and if I get
alignments wrong by half an inch,
the console cuts my legs off when I spring.
So what? So this. I had things on my mind.
You want your secrets kept? So train us right.
Foresee contingencies.
The silver buck?
I chucked it. Threw it, as the chute came down,
but kept the pin. The Igors have it now.
Well fella, you got questions and to spare,
and I don't like the way they're shaping up.
Oh sure, you got your job to do. Me too,
remember? I'm the guy who got his ass
shot out the sky at sixty thousand feet!
I didn't buy the farm. Is that a sin?
Tell Langley I'm an Amish - what the hell?
I told them it's curare.
Get real, pal!
They may be Borises, but I won't have
some guy get stiffed because he pricked his thumb.
They'd find out anyhow. You bet I have!
I got more beefs than Texas. Pin 'em back.
Nobody thought it through, this turkey-shoot,
or what we'd do, dumb Joes like little ol' me
when Igor got us. Unprofessional!
Now bust your ass, and get me outta here.
When I get back, I'm gonna tell the world
how Langley hangs its fly-guys out to dry.
We got a First Amendment. Let 'em try!
Categories:
embassy, history,
Form:
Blank verse
With weapons in his room he cannot much stay
Alone with his decision to blow up an Embassy:
He was desperate for a last blues of the new day;
Recently known on net, a girl from Tennessee
Wrote him how politicians body floats dead in the river:
Obsessive thought and hate was ready for risky tomorrow,
Love and Tennessee whisky were ready to be delivered;
Drawing mustaches and glasses, Pravda News might grow:
Come from Damascus, they don`t know the text better than us;
Her smile and his last cigar could start the new world war:
Under stars, they move in the night of their own choice, thus
The last Czar would meet a Tennessee girl somewhere, far:
Suddenly, tenderly she entered that Embassy: I am Miss Hope…
Her peaceful eyes would keep him like tied with a magical rope.
Categories:
embassy, education, hope, peace, violence,
Form:
Sonnet
Family Tree
The family tree grows tall and true,
Its leafy branches cradle me and you.
Like every tree it has a season
When branches drop, sometimes without reason.
Our tree has suffered great distress,
Not merely damaged, but under major stress.
Our central trunk now counts the cost
Of our sad and undesired for loss.
A life remarkable, lived through war.
Lived with grace, not counting score.
Instead counting strokes across the greens
And fairways of pleasant Surrey scenes.
A life devoted from age nineteen
To his fellow traveller, through postwar dream.
From East End roots to West end shows
And musicians’ diaries the fixers chose.
Abiding memories we all must have
Of generous parties, good times and bad.
Of cups of tea in which spoons could stand
And Embassy & Senior Service suddenly banned.
His driving skills were leant in tank
But skills passed on, two generations thank.
On the phone he’d say before he’d bid us bye
“I’ll just pass you over now to Vi…”
Another season awaits our tree,
And future blossoms we’ll no doubt see.
Our tree’s robust and will bloom again
And deep etched in bark, we’ll see his name.
A life well lived provides the feed
For our tree to nurture future seed.
Goodbye to one loved by you and me,
It’s quite amazing is our tree.
Keith Murphy©
Categories:
embassy, absence, bereavement, dad, loss,
Form:
Couplet