Best Gunmen Poems
Imprisoned and The Want For Freedom
We Retreat and try so hard to be discreet
Denied Intelligence, we're considered inadequate
and mistreated with violence
The King of our country promises he will bring peace
Our School is taken away, we face much ridicule
With Strength we hope and pray for extra length to our life
Precious Princess in her ivory tower and ours aimless
Priced Gem all so shines, but we are condemned
Our Blessed souls, are torn from our bodies and branded
We Light and direct towards relieving others this plight
2/6/2015
Schoolgirl Malala Yousafzai was shot in the head by Taliban gunmen - her "crime", to have spoken up for the right of girls to be educated. The world reacted in horror, but after weeks in intensive care Malala survived.
Prayer Poem Dedicated to Malala of Pakistan
Malala has dedicated her childhood to championing education for girls like her in Pakistan. As she lies in a hospital bed, a tragic victim of Taliban gunmen, let's help make her dream come true.
Pakistan's constitution says girls should be educated alongside boys, and the government has the resources to make it happen. But politicians have ignored that for years, influenced by extremist religious groups, and now, only 29% of girls attend secondary school. Study after study has shown the positive impact on personal and national income when girls are educated. Courtesy Avaaz
I have Twitted My Photo Poem on 17th Oct 2012 for Malala
https://twitter.com/i/#!/kapoor_/media/slideshow?url=pic.twitter.com%2FsRpkWvZI
A Prayer to God (Khuda)
Let knowledge & education
Touch and shape the dreams
Of every girl child
Of Pakistan.
Let the flowers of real Happiness
As it blooms, on the charming face of Malala
Touch the smiles
Of every citizen of Pakistan.
Let the light of Khuda (God)
Flashes on the minds
Of all the citizens of Pakistan
Who want to see
A prosperous and Happy Pakistan.
Let education and knowledge
Bloom to spread their fragrance
For all the Girl childs
Of India and Pakistan.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 17th Oct 2012
Note: I pray to God to save the life of this precious girl Malala, who was trying to save the lives of hundreds and thousands of girl children of Pakistan from getting lost in the darkness of Illiteracy.
Ravindra
So shocking was that news from France,
we stared at TVs in a trance;
no way to understand.
Those young and old without a chance
were taken down in wide expanse.
Such horror had been planned.
Who could have then foreseen the fate
upon them cast by those who hate?
Just gathered there for fun,
not knowing that their deaths await
while music played and people ate,
their lives were over, done.
Who could have thought ahead that they -
that enemy that wants its way
to change our form of life,
would sacrifice their own to say
that their belief we must obey?
Misguided thoughts run rife.
That Paris scene that fretful night
prepares us now to face the fight.
Define this threat once more
that could erupt within our sight.
Entire world must join the fight
to face this crusade war.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Rime Couee - Tail-Rhymed Verse - For France
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
Judged: 01/03/2016
~2nd Place~
Contest: Best Sad Poem EVER
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 08/29/2016
=============================================
Rime Couee
I went with this pattern for Rime Couee as shown on "The Poet's Garret" website
x x x x x x x a
x x x x x x x a
x x x x x b
x x x x x x x a
x x x x x x x a
x x x x x b
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"The November 2015 Paris attacks (sometimes referred to as 11/13) were a series of coordinated terrorist attacks that occurred on Friday 13 November 2015 in Paris, France, and the city's northern suburb, Saint-Denis. Beginning at 21:16 CET, three suicide bombers struck outside the Stade de France in Saint-Denis, during a football match. This was followed by several mass shootings, and a suicide bombing, at cafés and restaurants. Gunmen carried out another mass shooting and took hostages at a concert in the Bataclan theatre, leading to a stand-off with police. The attackers were shot or blew themselves up when police raided the theatre.
The attackers killed 130 people, including 89 at the Bataclan theatre. Another 368 people were injured, 80–99 seriously. Seven of the attackers also died, while the authorities continued to search for accomplices. The attacks were the deadliest on France since World War II." Wikipedia
Ambushed by gunmen on a highway in Ocotlán.
Threatened outside a mine site in San José del Golfo.
Shot dead by motorcycle gunmen while driving in Camotán.
Forced from their camp by mine trade unionists in La Sierrita.
Fired at while traveling to meet with fishermen of the Arauca River.
Thousands forcibly displaced by armed conflict in Cauca Department.
Arrested and held incommunicado on leaving his office at the University of Al Zaiem.
In serious but stable condition following a shooting after protesting the El Tambor mine.
Samples from letters
written to 'responsible authorities'
in places I’ve never been
in support of people
much like you and me
with hopes, tribulations
and kids with laughing faces;
perhaps with land.
Who for reasons various
are on the sharp edge
of the process
which provides us
with bright shirts, cheap coffee
and funny vignettes on my N+1g tab .
Occasionally my letters
are followed by good news,
or at least an acknowledgement.
The least I can do;
it's never enough,
yet I hope it keeps
a candle burning.
Written after 20+ years writing letters for Amnesty International's Urgent Action Network
Boy: When I grow,
I want to be a Leader
Bring positive change,
And cancel the mindset of corruption;
Education shall be my priority,
As the illiteracy rate shall drop.
Girl: When I grow,
Roads connectivity shall be my focus
From interior to city shall be paved,
As citizens shall enjoy the facility of electricity.
The poverty rate shall drop,
People shall live in sincere harmony;
Injustice is not acceptable,
Anyone found guilty with unique evidence,
Shall be imprisoned for ten years.
Boy: When I shall grow,
I want to be a Leader
The motive of "I, me and myself,"
Shall come to an end.
Citizens shall enjoy every milk and honey
We will not even need gunmen on streets,
Switzerland shall be our example,
As Israel shall be our role model in "giving".
Girl: When I grow,
I want to be a Leader
The "Open Door Policy" shall be reborn;
All leaders children shall attend Public school,
As taxes on citizens will decrease.
Poor shall have absolute right!
[90766 Log 004]
7/18 20:15
[recored audio]
Nate-- see you on the other side.
Agent-- See you later little bro.
(air let out from the Air-Tight pilot cabin)
BETA-- Multiple hostile forces are in the area
Agent-- What? That's not possible-
(gunfire)
Agent-- Nate! Get the hell out of here.
(return fire)
Agent-- Go! Go! Go!
(engine sounds)
Nate (over loudspeaker)-- We have takeoff.
Good luck out there.
(gunfire stops)
BETA-- Those are gunmen for the Association: Rank 2
Agent-- Why are they here? New Athens is a Federation
city not an Association city.
BETA-- Records indicate a successful Associate siege.
Agent-- So we just walked into an Associate city and
killed two gunmen.
BETA-- Correct.
Agent-- ...And our only way out just left.
BETA-- Correct.
Agent-- O.K. I'm going to need more than this pistol.
BETA-- There was a Federation barracks half a
kilometer from here. I'm not sure if it's still there.
Agent-- It's better than nothing...
Legend Of The Black Dove (Part 11)
"Destination Unknown"
John Norrington joins his friends. As the storm is approaching
the Columbia they attempt once again to return to their own time
and home in England.The mist engulfs the ship and the wind
becomes gusty, Captain Owens and his crew are ready for any
immediate manuever they may have to handle to keep the ship
on course. The ship slows then stops, things seem to appear
normal, there is Dover Harbour. The ship now heads in to port,
John Norrington and Bill Jenkins disembark from the ship and
travel by stage coach to Norrington manor where they are
greeted by their servants and staff.Hours later Bill Jenkins
goes on duty at the hotel pub, only to notice his adversary
Jack Wild standing at the bar, Jenkins slips out the back
door for a moment to tell John Norrington about Wild's
presence, Norrington could not understand that Wild is still
free undaunted by Jenkins being present. The coach
is now ready along with it's cargo of gold, the dignitaries
are prepared to leave and Norrington also boards the coach,
being part of the original passengers. The coach then leaves
on time. As it approaches the fateful bend the Wild's outlaws
attack. The coach pulls up and Wild has his gunmen hold the
passengers at gunpoint. Norrington must act quickly, so he
leaps at Wild and knocks him from his horse to the ground.
Norrington pulls out his gun as the outlaws fire at him
gunning him down. He is lying motionless.......
Has Norrington been killed ?
Will the Black Dove save the coach from destruction ?
Don't miss the exciting final conclusion in
Part 12 ...."Terminal Paradox"
Posted the 1st January 2014
Written: 26th August 2013
Before the birth of fatherless children
Life was good, the land was peaceful
To the field we went happily
Children knew and played with fathers
Peace died because war was awful
To unlivable areas women fled unhappily
Fathers taken as war hostages
Evils of sickness, hunger and thirst we endured
In our hideouts, the worst of evils was war rape
Unknown gunmen made us impregnated
Fatherless children we delivered
Children of mothers they are
Community hates this for man decides
On him, mother and child depend
Wordless the mother is, and so the child becomes
Unhappily and unfreely the child grows
He cannot play with his unknown dad
So shame builds on him, as no father he has
We never decided to bear a child in impurity
Who will never be at harmony
And whose life and education are risky
For he is fatherless and family ignominy
Ultimately, mother and child need basic rights
For they both are victims of their innocence
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
At midnight tonight, adieu 2015!
The scandal that’s 1MDB, with its many twists and turns, continued throughout 2015…
Venomous charges and contercharges hit the headlines unabated through this year..
The on-going saga, with its numerous side developments, serve up a fascinating read…
Day after day, to this very day, there is typically only unflattering news about 1MDB…
At midnight today, adieu 2015!
We may not recall the date May 4th but we do remember a most dastardly deed in 2015…
When 4 armed gunmen stormed a restaurant in Sandakan, Sabah in the crime of the year..
The gunmen made a mockery of our heightened security, the dusk- to-dawn curfew…
The Malaysian army, police and navy were caught napping in the face of this kidnapping…
At midnight tonight, adieu 2015!
Political fanfare took a back seat when something catstrophic happened in mid 2015…
18 climbers were killed in rockfalls while up on the slopes of Mt Kinabalu, early dawn of June 5th..
When a 5.9 Richter scaled earthquake hit mountainous Ranau, and triggered mudslides…
Tales of heroism and individuals acts of courage catapulted mountain climbers into hero status..
At midnight tonight, adieu 2015!
Most Malaysians are going to stay awake to bid goodbye to the year that was 2015…
The optimistic ones will be looking forwards to the dawn of a brand new year in 2016..
With the many horrible stories and bad news that have assailed Malaysia this year..
Most of us will not miss 2015 for this annus horriblis is best be forgotten in earnest…
At midnight tonight, Adieu and Good Riddance 2015!
Welcome, Welcome, Happy New Year 2016 !
(Part 1: The South African detective)
The search, I must warn you,
Was led by a Zulu,
A shaman and officer,
‘The pride of Maputo’
Called Mr. Malungo,
They say, ‘a witch he once wed’,
And that he tricked her, just to keep,
The little hili that she fed...
(But the truth, is much stranger,
for you see, that ‘hili’ was his son,
and his wife, well, she just left him...
a bit of muti and a gun)
And as for ’ubuntu’,
Well, he had it all wrong,
For that term, in izulu,
Doesn’t mean:’**** you, I’m the one’,
And so the water mouse,
Swam against; the trusting current’s dead,
The foamy figures that beamed below,
Water mountain stead,
His little head catching sunlight,
Dots the liquids edge,
And as a late, blooming flower,
Sprouts amongst the round pooling red,
5 divers and 12 gunmen,
Now arranged in Malungo’s shed,
Whispering amongst themselves,
About, the bricks beneath his bed...
Summoned by the State,
To arrest a very sinister louse,
The famed and even ‘imagined’?
...Deadly, ‘Water Mouse’.
Heard of by many,
Seen by so few,
20 dead and counting,
To continue...
PS: Some South African concepts.
“Tsotsi”: means “criminal”
“Hili”: means “demon” (regarded as a sex demon who hides beneath beds that are
not on bricks and whom grants wishes if caught)
“Ubuntu”: common word in South Africa that means “we are all one”
In eighteen-eighty two, the town of Tombstone, Arizona found its fame,
Inside its streets and cemetery it began to live up to its name;
The silver mines were making men as rich as they could ever hope to be,
And all the gamblers and the gunmen and the madams wrote its history.
October twenty-seventh was the day that no one ever can forget,
But what exactly happened there nobody quite agrees on, even yet;
But we all know for sure is some men stood and shot some other men who fell;
The good and bad and black and white are something no one knows enough to tell.
But legends live when men begin to die,
And no one knows what’s true, and what’s a lie,
And Tombstone, Arizona died a long, long time ago…
The cowboys all were cattle thieves who died inside of Tombstone’s streets that day,
The lawmen who had killed them all were gamblers who’d do anything for pay,
The bodies, they were buried with the truth, inside the graveyard out of town;
When Wyatt Earp and both his brothers met those men, they gunned them to the ground.
The marshals won the battle, but the time for men like them was running short;
Then Wyatt lost his brothers, but he didn’t take the murdererto a court;
He killed the killers, so they even swore a warrant for his head;
But Wyatt Earp died in nineteen twenty eight, so peaceful in his bed.
Black hoodie, black gloves and a black balaclava
Allegiances born of belligerent father
A council estate with yards full of tyres
A rucksack that’s laden with tin tacks and wires
Cars outside boozers where loyalist losers
Don’t spot the briefcase with time delay fuses
One man and his neighbour of different persuasions
Soldiers and ministers weighing equations
Each side will tear you apart with their bombs
Some will send ‘letters’ to where you are from
Some cite religion or national pride
Or family honour when taking a side
Orange and green the colours of choice
BBC using an imposter’s voice
Still the news media expresses surprise
When pubs, cars and trucks light up the skies
A town-centre nightclub to which people flock
Across the street came Messrs Browning and Glock
In hands now committed to unleash their guns
They fingered their triggers... and then there were nuns
***
[During ‘The Troubles’ in Northern Ireland, whilst many individuals were targeted due to their religious persuasion, targeted attacks on any particular religious institution were, seemingly, rare. A lengthy chat with Mr Google named two Catholic priests who were deliberately killed, but only one nun who was killed when she happened-on-by a bombing; she remains the only nun killed (albeit inadvertently) because of ‘The Troubles’. ‘And Then There Were Nuns’ simply prompts the question (to which I have no answer) what would a team of gunmen do next if a group of Nuns wandered into their ‘hit’?]
The gunman secures by his concealed identity
shrouded in mystery, shadows lurking out of sight
kills, by order, greed, and convenience.
With blood-stained conscious
Our land Sliding into anarchy, becoming a boiling cauldron
But where is the unknown gunman from?
Every time he showed up spending noisy hours,
he left unscathed perhaps the cries of the victims
couldn’t rouse the night watch men from their slumber,
honestly, they must have been tired.
After all our leaders only condemn such act
and as good citizens we weren’t expecting more.
Our leaders tiptoe and mewed
oh, the fear is potent. it’s a cold war but who’s after us?
Here, crimes can be control except that of the unknown gunmen
Amid the deep smoke from his firearm
Many lives brought to their unexpected end,
Maybe these gunmen are not truly unknown.
Since the impart of the state are rarely felt
the government remain unknown by most citizens
probably they’re all unknown,
the decimation of the night watch men is a flight into anarchy,
once violence is allowed to sit,
it cannot be ordered to leave.
while officials rehash old press releases
with misguided rhetoric, daily doses of media reports
on activities of the unknown gunmen are relentless.
With many federating units like the polygamous home of an African king,
justice, equity, and fair play should be central place
only then can we raise and dust ourselves to face the future which is now.
Monarchy Martyr!!!
Hardest of bargaineers, and pioneers,
Chat feedback on how we don't care,
Lend me an ear, fear no savage,
These fake dramatical cats wearin their lives backwards,
Shhhh, crack a backwoods.
Tis' funny, the world just caving in,
The worst from within,
Manifest and sparks my quest,
I'm here to build a nation,
Map it out and destroy temptation,
Then renovate thought,
Sip on right now high stakin,
While some crooked eye cop
Playin the corner sooo hot,
You can smell the bacon,
Steady moves we're makin,
School principles for rapist,
Murdered by math teacher,
Dating my 8th grade friend
For free lunch and straight A papers,
Something for nothing, better be the bravest,
Blue jean, black tie, sharp eyed badged gunmen,
Colombine freak minds on my block,
41 shots and free Amadou me,
Forget the runnin!
My heart goes out to those who struggle,
Millenium men with power beyond muscle,
Feel my fury!
These corporate world threats,
Most late bloomies, came to do me in rudely
Yall should ride with me,
See why men die and strive for free,
Like a black man i'm proud to be raised in these means streets,
Like a Rob Dinero in heat
We chastize the wise for knowledge intelligently,
Sooo, captivated i hate it,
We're only half free, a different type man,
Sober off henny , drunk off reality,
Casually conquer catastrophy,
My main goals to grow old past chapter three,
Their after me !
Monarchy Martyr.
Mary Moorman took a Polaroid snap of
John Kennedy at the exact moment he
received his fatal head wound. Her
picture has fuelled many conspiracy
theories.
I’m inclined to opine
(it’s a passion of mine –
to conclusions you’ll think me
a jumper)
that assassins abound,
widely scattered around,
and they’re thicker than bugs
on a bumper!
In this photo alone
sniper gunmen unknown,
and it only takes looking
to nail ‘em.
(Boy, if I’d been around
when those witches were found,
they’d a made me the mayor
of Salem!)
Take that guy on the stairs
who’s been snapped unawares
(you would see, if we had him
in slo-mo):
he’s a pal of Rosselli,
‘cos I’ve seen him on telly,
and I’m outing him now – Perry Como!
And the perp on the plinth
with the sleazebag named Cynth –
he’s a Russian, with codename
“Zapruder”.
Wait – she’s “Marilyn”, yes?
Geez, why didn’t I guess?
Then he obviously must be …
Ry Cooder!
Between Badge Man and Ry
there’s a big hairy guy,
who is clearly preparing
to shoot.
Why can’t anyone see?
Ngo Dinh Diem, obviously –
he’s disguised in a chimpanzee suit!
Where the pergola ends –
it screams out at you, friends –
near where Cynth and Zapruder
are grappling,
waits a killer from Cuba
with poison-dart tuba,
dressed up as a sycamore sapling.
I’m alerting the Pope
to conspiracy dope
that’s contained in this
Polaroid snap –
What? The sapling is lush?
It’s a Texas-type bush?
Why’d you give me that
paranoid crap?