Best Hostages Poems
HOSTAGES TO FORTUNE
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“Luck—that’s what some call it, a capricious cotillion with probability, eventually holding one hostage to fortune…” quote by the poet
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Onlookers watch, brows furrowed with wisdom,
judging the inanity of my gambles, the absurdity of my heart~
the unwise pledge made to destiny and chance.
Is it luck I chase or a deeper current pulling me onward,
a commitment to something unseen~
a surrender to the unknown Hand that guides me?
Consequences sometimes sharp and bitter~
Are they lessons etched in pain or moments of grace,
divinely ordained, the Master shaping my soul?
Were my falls intended all along,
an awkward dance orchestrated by a Divine hand,
making me a willing hostage not to fortune but to faith?
Yes, I am a hostage, bound and gladly surrendered~
a devotee of faith's uncertain embrace.
In my captivity, I find the ultimate freedom.
Hostages, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Otages* by T. Wignesan
This blood will never dry up on our land
and those felled will lie there exposed.
We’ll keep grinding our teeth for fear of blurting out
we’ll not cry over these crosses upturned.
But we’ll remember these laid low devoid of memory
we’ll keep count of our dead as hours were numbered.
They who weigh heavy as a scourge upon history
tomorrow one’ll spurn them low will they be surprised.
And those who kept quiet for fear of being caught
their silence too will not be pardoned.
Those who stood up to argue and to pretend
even the less pious will have them condemned.
These deaths these wanton deaths are all our heritage
their poor bleeding bodies will not be separated.
We will not let our recall of their faces lie fallow
orchards will bloom on meadows lush green covered.
May they lie exposed naked under the sky like our land
and may their blood be mixed with our origins cherishcd.
The wild rose bush will cover them with the roses of ire
with their blood fierce spring seasons will be enlivened.
May these spring seasons be so cool beyond all words
songs of birds and children trundling paths be they filled.
And like a forest surrounding them heaves a sigh
a great people pray in subdued tones with arms raised.
Rhyme scheme of the original quatrains : abab, cbcb, dbdb, ebeb, abab, fgfg
( La liberté guide nos pas, O.C., t. I, p. 420)
*First published in the review Traits, in January 1942, and again in L’Honneur des poètes, in 1943. According to Anne-Sophie CONSTANT, the editor of Anthologie Poétique, « Hostages » evokes the execution of hostages in the Chateaubriant Camp on October 22, 1941.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, October 18, 2014
Wailing in the city beyond bridge and bog
Austerity choking the dreams in cribs
Loans have dried up, at noon there is fog
Leverage everything, he pawns his ribs
She drinks and staggers to the new trade
Traditions fall apart by the will to live
Recession crawls and curls atop the spade
Economy everywhere has nothing to give
Except for the looters, fat and cool
Teamsters and workers are like barren mule
Heavy in debt, blind, blind the arguments
Owners of nothing no business can grow
Subtle the pipers anethestic of discontents
Thousands are homeless, pension like snow
Amassed and melted under paws of greed
Governments are impotent, bankers rule
Excess they blame on the workers in need
Suffering hides in shame, but dogs do drool.
Freedom for those who stood to speak.' In a system rotten
At every move it creaks." u k gaols used to frighten and
Suppress the vast majority, justice is not.' This is a mess!
Free your citizens ( enough of thought crimes!) You spoke
Loud about some sausages.' Or was that karma Divine?
Whatever quyeer reasons? I'm calling his time.' May
Trump stand on your neck; Sunshine' Maybe then you'll release them yet? Get them back up on deck.' I say free Tommy Robinson raise the rafters U K.' Let the good word be carried on the streets
And good vibes, return unto Britain in these days.'
Released from captivity are the sons of Israel, and with tears of joy they are received by all. Today is given the name Peace 2025 indicating an ending of brutal war. Neither adversary was present, yet an extraordinary event. Can’t build a lasting peace with hate as a building material. Is it true tranquility is what awaits the world or a temporary armistice, a break in the storm—lingering disarray of what is already rubble and dust—a dystopian gray. What shall these torn nations find in an entanglement led by hyperbolic politicians, known for their vacant promises. An immovable permanency that shall lead to unity that was once in our illusive dreams, is it what it seems? Oh is it what it appears to be? What happens to a dream deferred, does it dry up like a raisin in the sun or bring a new bloom of blustering flowers from beneath the desert sands. What tempests are these that blow over deeply rooted in religion, in the eras, in the cradle of civilization.
Freed!
anticipation
Jewish son freedom now comes~
their wait exhausted
Before dawn,
the world breathless~
heartbeats
become tethers
to the whims of fate
and old dreams
flying
out of reach.
Fickle
fate holding
our fortunes
hostage to power~
meager money eked out
from
minions of despots.
Hostages kidnapped: casualties of war
After extorting pound of flesh
lifetime humiliation drummed into captives
hammering indelible nightmare
no amount of therapy can expunge.
Lifetime trauma inflicted perpetrators wage
dead bodies littered makeshift triage
death and destruction
exhibit super fresh killing fields,
where sally forth set pathmark
to abominable gut wrenching
ghastly hollow hellscape.
Haunting horrid macabre scenes assault,
batter, clobber, et cetera the senses
death construed as mutual
(of Omaha) collateral damage
fallout populated by zone of dead bodies
littering apocalyptic landscape
rendering spooky morbidly fascinating,
especially from safe vantage point
bajillion miles away
whereby yours truly
hunched over his Macbook Pro laptop
glanced the headlines without further delay
aid convoys moving into Gaza Strip
a tepid hip hip hooray
impossible mission for
overactive imagination of artist
or writer to capture bedlam and melee,
scaring up heavenly sight
for grim reaper soirée
repository for skull and crossbones
as arid (extra dry) winds hasten desiccation
whistling repartee (even from afar)
faintly resembling mourning of Zalay.
Countless hungry ill clad masses beg
the question regarding
purposefulness of mortal kombat
screaming in agony against cutthroat
belligerents who gleefully gloat
laying waste besieging
ship of state and emergency lifeboat
senselessly bombing spelling
likelihood for peace on earth remote
silencing the lambs and yellowthroat!
Methinks spouting protestation
against loosed strife,
courtesy demoniac *****sapiens
where talking heads strategize foo fighters
pointless exhalation of breath
sabotaging, shortchanging, siccing,
squashing, subjecting, et cetera
innocent bystanders ultimately hastening them/
they to untimely and unfair nasty,
shortish and brutal death
linkedin to personal choice of deity
and attendant religious shibboleth.
I see waves
going higher and higher
in the shape of horns.
Why don't we call horns thorns?
These horns are extending
in my head.
Ha ha ha, imagination.
And even there,
I couldn't think of a crown.
People are trying
to get to the tip of my horns:
ambitious,
dedicated,
hardworking.
But why are they even trying?
And even if they reach the tip,
wouldn't it still be my horns?
Or will it be theirs?
Its a reggresive sight to see the condition of hostages
Being released by hamas?? Its a sad counterpoint to the
Whole sad situation.' And gnaws away at hope of there
Being any good solution, any way to sanity..For barbarisam will
But destroy all souls that employ it.' Enough.!! Time to
Consider on our humanity surely' and the positives it can
Facilitate.'
We do not know what life is by resigning ourselves to death.
Just as we don’t know what love is by only tasting hate.
The poor don’t know what it’s like to never look at the tag.
But the rich don’t know what it’s like to have nothing and not be sad.
Those who own companies don’t know each customer's regular order.
Yet the workers don’t know what it’s like to be judged by the public.
Models don’t know what it's like not to wear makeup.
While the girl who walks the dog doesn’t even own mascara.
The judges don’t know how much each fall hurts.
But, the contestants don’t know what it took for the judges to be at the top.
The cashier doesn’t know why he can’t pay for his food,
And he doesn't know why she’s a cashier.
The teacher doesn’t know what happens at home,
Just like the student doesn’t know what it costs to maintain one.
In the end we are one or the other,
And we may never know the second half.
And I think that’s why no human can know it all.
And people need to learn that that’s ok.
There's a reason why we only live once.
To my speech you all listen
To plan to it hasten...
Once your money is in my briefcase
My behaviour I shall change
The life - improving dollar in my embrace
Hopes of your release within range...
And no more of these upsetting speeches
That threaten your earthly riches
Sometimes seizing your breath
A big havoc wreaking on your health
Nor again will you glimpse this bizarre mask
Asking for the right keys to your bank's sacred locks
Your history pages simply recording this hateful task
For which you'd celebrate whomever bravely blocks
Yet, I have to warn the Rescue Mission dreamer
And that black gorilla schemer
Now seemingly shaking like a leaf
But edging near to the Alarm Button!
His adventurous face to wear the grief
Of a week - long starved glutton!
Also, the pregnant blonde on my left
Seriously impressing that she's carrying my child
Besides the three or four year old boy very deft
And a bit of the wild.
The first two shan't in one piece remain
When my AK 47 starts its traditional song.
And I'm telling you in the main,
It does so a bit too long.
They were wasting the hostages,
This deftly handling in stages;
Thirty minutes another one slew,
Nor bothered they would soon be few...
For the beauty of Twelve Million;
They're not asking for A Trillion.
Twelve fine girls,nine boys handsome
And only Eight left for ransom
Captor tells captives "I love you!
Just that parents do not facts chew;
Like I do kola and bitter pill...
For delays, impatient guns kill..."
Isn't it too hard to swallow:
What we'd do to in wealth wallow?
Across the wandering life’s dynamic domain,
I traversed following the footprints of destiny.
The tortuous pathway in the undulating topography
meandered for me, tracking the trail of the racing time
to the formless future, I saw take the ordained shape,
I toiled and tried to take life wherever I wanted,
but couldn’t reach the goal for the bridges got burnt,
the flood of uncertainty washed away the road.
The reasons of wreckage I couldn’t reckon at all.
That’s when I heard the sound of fate’s footfall.
With the weary wings of the beleaguered bird of fate,
I flew aimless in the turbulent air of discontent,
across the fading hues of the sunset horizon,
where I got caught in the confining clutch
of the storm clouds of providence as a captive.
Many skies of turmoil I then soared with passion
across the sequential waves of somber squalls.
With the buds of nascent hope held close to heart
I chased butterflies in the valley of flowers,
with dreams flying through the rainbow arch.
The sun now sinks at the edge of the twilight zone,
marked by the fading kaleidoscope of fulfillment.
Walking the last mile, I’ve reached the point of no return;
the weary footsteps can no longer take me back,
for I’m a hostage to fortune.
Bulk of money lying on my bed
Originality microscopic and long dead
I don’t take credit for your misconception
Dreams are simple but the world isn’t
Because, on every trophy lies a faded tint
Industrial buildings and well-planned cities
Then with retired sum the moors perhaps and landscapes so pretty
Life is an instrument not like a fiddle
Play it you will but with turmoil in the middle
Disappointment over bills come fast
But when we earn and earn, our gold does not last
Glee in sunset reflects time
Time for diamonds I need to make mine
So escape, I want to the hills
But without confidence there lies no thrill
So wake up everyday and comeback every night
Don’t put up a fight
And so goes the drill!
You may not like his politics,
and you may not like his choice,
You may also not like the way he speaks,
with his somewhat cocky voice.
But one thing that we have to like
about that man, you see
Is that he's done well with Israel
Helping twenty hostages- free!