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Best Humanity Poems | Poetry

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New Humanity Poems

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Humanity by BANGALEE, MAHTAB
HUMANITY - an observation by Densham, Brian
Unsung Laborers Day Of Humanity by Manley Shelman, Eric Nelson
We, Humanity by Reuta, Daniela
Worship Humanity by BANGALEE, MAHTAB
Humanity by BANGALEE, MAHTAB
Humanity threadbare by Wason, Ritu
humanity by Hilenski, Phyllis
Humanity by Goss, Christopher
HUMANITY IN PERIL by Trifiatis, Demetrios

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The Best Humanity Poems

Details | Humanity Poem |

American Indian, Nightshades, Moonshadows And Howling Wolf

American Indian, Nightshades, Moonshadows And Howling Wolf

Thirsty for red moon, its sacred beams and eternal pull
howling-out to speak to this dark and blind world, without fear;
Your echoes enter, soulful bones of insightful red man
birthing growing urges to return and run truly free,
falling upon ancient trails, foraging for lean red meat
race with red-heart's deepest desires into widest abyss,
embrace our mother earth, unified into one body. 

Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'. 
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.

Standing proud, atop very high and lonesome mountain crag
winds caressing one of Nature's most beautiful creatures;
Notes calling loud, that give night's resplendent moon pregnant pause
in that silent and golden moment, where man so trembles,
for it is then knowledge comes, therein sings of true freedom
having no need for dreams of blind men or dark worldly lusts,
speaking to pack below, mirroring its deep felt tones.

Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'. 
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.

Alas! Fate and Fury- rage combine and oft delivers
soul-crushing, black-handed cuts from darkened realms far below;
Wherein has justice overcame Fate's most savage attacks
when hatred and greed both conspired to not be defeated,
in infliction of war's sorrows and deadly destruction
while parading under banner of Light and compassion,
tales of malevolent beasts, benevolently destroyed!

Where ancient trails once well-known, rests under dust long fallin'. 
Moon's golden realms hear both man and wolf, faithful loud callin'.

R. J. Lindley,
Feb 2nd, 1973
Poetry-- Subject Nature, Wolf, Amerian Indian And Injustice...

Old note: My mother's father was Native American. I gained
great insight into the life of Native Americans from words
he spoke to me. Since his death, I have read many books that
gave even more historical knowledge on the subject. Finding 
the ones that did not deliberately cover up the savage acts
carried out by "whites" against Native Americans.

Details | Humanity Poem |

The Gifts Of The Fourth Chakra



Wild spirit - 
I cherished you tender 
within my halo of prana
careful not to hurt you
as I worked to set you free
using peaceful hands 
in harmony 
with my humanity's
heart-song -

I beheld your fragile form 
of freedom lost 
as your panicked eyes 
pleaded release
and in those precious
and few sacred moments
of exchanged energy
I felt you relinquish 
your fight or flight
to my mission of mildness...

a unifying lesson of love
befell us that day
and when again you flew 
on turquoise wings 
through reflective silver winds -
you elevated in mindful mercy
to compassionate heights
in revered reverberations... 
gratified to be as one with the universe - 
reborn
in your new found 
freedom ~ 



Susan Ashley
October 7, 2018

_________________________







*For the purpose of this poem, I use the emotional elements of the fourth chakra. The fourth chakra refers to love and self-acceptance, the ability to give and receive love freely and feeling connected with the universe as a whole. Also referred to as the heart chakra, it is associated with the healing energy of love and is regarded as the center of compassion. A balanced heart chakra is considered to be a wellspring of inner happiness and peace.*


*I use the color turquoise to represent a dynamic energy of self-love/acceptance/forgiveness, growth, humanism, inner peace and healing.*

*I use the color silver to represent a cleansing element for one’s spirit, a mirror for the soul and a letting go of negative energy. Also, as a vehicle in seeking deeper truth and compassionate understanding to enhance one’s sense of altruism and to achieve a state of perfect balance and harmony in body, mind and spirit.*

Details | Humanity Poem |

I walk and walk, without talking to anyone,
I walk here and there, to avoid their stares,
their scowls, their “poor lady” pity -
Do they know I used to be pretty?
Now I’m just a dirty nothing, dirty whore,
I walk till I can’t walk anymore.

I have no place to be, no place to go.
I sit for a moment when I find a spot,
a park bench, a doorway,
the outer corner of a parking lot
But someone always comes around
and looks at me with that disdainful frown,
I walk. I walk so I won’t get caught
I walk away looking down at the ground.

I feel so ashamed. There’s nowhere I can hide.
I try, though, I try. I stand in long lines
to find a decent place to sleep for the night,
but decent places are hard to find.
I’d rather lie in the dirt at the downtown park
than fear the rats that nibble in the dark
in bug-infested rooms with urine-stained mattresses.

I eat my food real fast, then hurry on my way,
before some men come around
and try to pressure me to stay.
I live in fear for my life every night,
It’s like a fist that hovers over me, constantly,
Like the fist he used on me that day,
my body beaten; the bruises have faded away.
I walk. I walk, to get away from the pain.

I sleep in a doorway, in an alley down the street.
I’ve nothing but these filthy clothes,
and the shoes on my feet,
and I’m ok with being dirty, let me stink,
I hope I stink!
Maybe it will keep the stinking men away from me,
so I can try to get some sleep, rest my aching feet.

And then, when daylight comes again,
in the sunshine or the rain
I’ll walk and walk ...
to get away from the pain.

Inspired by Tom's "Being Homeless" contest

Facts:
Domestic violence is a leading cause of homelessness for women and their children. (nedv.org)
According to VAWnet.org, “Homeless women … are particularly vulnerable to multiple forms of victimization including forced, coerced, or manipulated sexual activity.”

Details | Humanity Poem |

Everyday is Beautiful

Everyday is beautiful, son,
and no that's not being optimistic.
You're here - you're alive - with one more day on your plate.
That's just being realistic.

Tuesdays are for Tenderness, for the little things found beneath the rubble:
a flower peeking or a new-dream seeking, even though its subtle.

Wednesdays are for Wishes --- like hoping on that pretty, pretty star,
for something just around the corner is never all that far.

And Thursdays are for Thoughtfulness, on those reflective afternoons,
where all of life hangs between your ears, as your heart struggles to make room
for all the love that's bursting inside of you ...

(I know it's there!
hiding somewhere ... perhaps beneath the dirt and muck)

Fridays are for Friendship --- to the ones who you know true,
and hold you oh so close, despite all of life's various hues.

Saturdays are for Sanctification from all of distraction's clutter;
an occasion to make small your piece of toast, for there's too much of time's butter,
spreading oh so thin on Little You.

And Sundays are for Sunflowers, and the smile that ensues on even the coldest soul.
Treasure it child, if you ever see it bloom, for she's a fragile beauty that makes you whole.

Yes, my son ... EVERY day is beautiful, and Mondays especially,
for that's the day we praise our Mothers,
for giving birth to us at such a time as this (God knows it wasn't easy)
And no, I don't need to see the Seven Wonders,
to know how beautiful life can be,
for I've got all the splendor I can handle ...

... seven days a week.

Image Used: The I Hate Mondays T-Shirt Picture

Written April 10th, 2016
For the Images Contest Hosted by Silent One

Details | Humanity Poem |

Dear Humanity:

Dear Humanity:

You know I love you, right?
Stop calling me Mother Nature!
I hate that!
Genderless am I…
Oh, yeah, I get the ‘bring life forth’ bit,
creator of new life, pregnant with your desire
…yada, yada, yada,
my womb is your hope,
my anger your demise.
You have dominion over me?
Get over yourself!
Not the life-force, I wobble,
buoy in a black sea,
world in flux.
Some of your tribes cajole me
with Songs of the Good Earth,
their rhythms heal my rivers and plains,
my blue veins, renewing rains;
good vibrations make mountains grow.
Others try to dominate me,
defile, desecrate and destroy me.
Written in the Book they say,
patriarchal sons of kings.
Climate change deniers my enemies.
Poor, dear, naïve humanity,
my icecaps are melting, oceans swell,
water will consume the land.
My extremes test your resolve.
I can live without you,
is the opposite true?
Homeostasis, my cycles of life,
the seasons my command.
Are you so balanced?
Don’t fight against gravity,
there is no escape.
Eagles soar and lions roar,
your footprints on the shore,
all these shall pass away.
So if you seek immortality
then keep your home sacred.
Love all of me,
every rock is my child,
every grain of sand a seed,
everything you do to these,
you do to me.
I am Gaia. I am home.

Prayer for the Summer Solstice 2017

Details | Humanity Poem |

Temptation Itches On All Living Things

Temptation Itches On All Living Things

Temptation itches on all living things
often nobody knows just how it stings,
not the icky-glues in its sticky pastes
nor the rotten fruits in its wasted wastes.

She the vixen nobody could resist
her vanishing pleasures - elusive mists,
long legs descend from heavenly skies
later, such dark pains in lamented cries.

Victim once thought to be heavenly bound
lost, voiceless, no understandable sound,
finds temptress, sexy wares designed to win
she that siren alluring to all men.

You scratch that itch, risking your own peril,
finding wounds that can never be sterile!

12-15- 2016


For Daniel Turner's , What Was I Thinking,  Contest
15 December 2016

Last verse inspiration, from his poem "Between the Lines

Couplet sonnet
Rhyme Scheme:  a a – b b – c c – d d – e e – f f – g g
10 syllables each line.

Details | Humanity Poem |

Bit Of Truth And Wisdom, Found In Old Age

Bit Of Truth And Wisdom, Found In Old Age

At that age wisdom says life is a joke
consider blindness of other poor folk.
Stop to ponder why on earth we exist
you may just find giving on that big list.

To live well, love hard and thus procreate
easy to see easier to relate.
Living life together with your soulmate
should be a part of everybody's Fate!

Finding life is not about what you got
should be holding solid, number one spot
Tis more about life lived well and deeper
with one you found, knew to be a keeper

If long life, happiness is your great aim
if reaching not for it, you are to blame!

Robert J. Lindley, 1-16-2017
Sonnet

Details | Humanity Poem |

I Do Not Exist

I have been erased
no face
no name
Silence invades

I speak yet have no voice
no soul
no heart
Darkness I embrace

Invisible to the mirror
Into society I peer
no one sees
what does not exist

Asleep or awake
there is no existence to partake
Possessions collecting dust
While what does not exist rusts

Who am I, that never existed
That bleeds but never lived
Murdered by love
no matter

I do not exist

Details | Humanity Poem |

Joining the Pieces

Sometimes we sit alone,
quiet, trying to figure
out who carried a piece
of us with them, as we try
to put ourselves together again...


Date: 24/02/2016

Details | Humanity Poem |

The Hand of Love

The night air flowed over my breath
The covers not quite keeping me warm
Dreams caressing my past
My lover whispers in my ear

Sweet words, with her loving touch
Times long ago, where tenderness would flow
Her perfume flys away with the wind
Happy days my only true possessions

ahhh but love is not as it once was
Age makes the windmill turn slower
My lover caressing my pain
Raindrops falling, aroused in the wet rain
She my life, now I live with thoughts inane

Shivering, 
She releases me from both pleasure and pain
Dreams of her splatter all over on top
My cover only a cardboard box
Wet from the weather
in the alley where I sleep

At dawn, there is a sharp pain in my rib
"out your bum, get the hell away"
Kicked and bruised I grab what I can
All I can think of is to run run run

Limping, onwards to the park
I feel a firm hand take hold of me
Stop young man, its raining cant you see?
Shocked I try to escape, fear invades me

In a softer tone the man says
Come with me son, out of the rain
The shelter is over there, close to your park
A warm meal, and and fresh bath will do you good

Father O'Brien pats the new one Davey on the back
Welcome son, here's a book if you care to read
Davey still in skeptical mode, being treated as human
Father O'Brien see this in his heavy eyes
He looks at Davey and whispers
I was once you, you see

The hand of love
Can mend a thousand hearts
When like the seeds of blooming flowers
We spread the love we were handed

Details | Humanity Poem |

Dark Earth Folds In The Heart's Red Bloom

Dark Earth Folds In The Heart's Red Bloom

You and I and all we do
Know not, til our hearts are through 
The press of life, what things we be
Root or leaves or shade of tree.
You and I and all we seem
May be but as a drift of dream
In the eyes of One who gave
Self to love and love to save,-
Yea, all the deeds that men have wrought
Mere flower of dream, flame of thought,
Break of waves on a drear shore,
Scent of the wild rose on the moor.
Yet we have seen, and hold it sure,
That out of shame come forth the pure;
Dark earth folds in the heart's red bloom;
In vain, we build the soul a tomb.

R.J. Lindley
1976 or 77 ?

Details | Humanity Poem |

Neural Symphonies

Neural overtures
symphonies in sense-surround

Life's synaptic orchestra
firing stringed ensembles

Cosmic Concertos resound
pentatonic rhapsodies

Every man writes his own song
within time's metered signature

in peaceful chordal harmony
or embittered dissonant tritones 


geo.vuy 11.2014 Neural Symphonies 3 of 5


(Pentatonic is a five tone scale within one octave, 
used In the earliest forms of music. 
Used symbolically in this piece as man's five senses)

Details | Humanity Poem |

It

It is a horizon of dreams aloft in hope.
It is love, stirred with hate that drips need
to bleed us, heal us and force our tired cope.
It is a circle never ending, a line never bending,
and it holds questions with no answers, like keys
to kingdoms none can find to turn or master.

It is that door, the door, where dear ones come and go,
ones who carry joy, hold us, love us, then, in time
they lack reasons to feel or the want to know us, so, no, 
I mean, yes, it is not long-term, strongly rooted trust.
It is a strange, bewildering, momentous fuss
that boils in us until we bubble up our filthiest cuss.

It is same attempts in a familiar game of strange
ranging from old to presentations tweaked as new
that leave us standing without scent of a clue.
It is the reason creating all things we do and
the matter with our universal supply of glue.
It is your craziness fondling my insanity, too.

As a match, it does flame fan mankind’s fire
to rise in heat stroked red curls ever higher.
It is the silence that secrets our desires
and the stillness of hush-laced conspires. 
It causes human hands failed attempts to grab
sky-warm, star blankets, not to be human had.

It is a riddled fear maze forcing us to run,
to race by men with aimed happy guns,
to quick stride far from addicts selling sons
and slowly consider embracing those we have shun
as we forgive ourselves for all never seen done.
It is another day, and, say, here it does come.



... CayCay Jennings
December 2, 2017

Details | Humanity Poem |

The Scorn Of Cain

East of Eden we still painfully churn
where belief is earliest bloodshed's birth
and every wicked man shall have his turn
to spill his rage upon the wretched earth.

From outer realms there can only come sin
and for fear and hatred of all unknown
we'll slay the unspoken laws from within
and by new laws tear the flesh from the bone.

All good, all righteous, though not all the same
and devious on the wicked man's path
we'll not escape, for the truest voice came
and told that we'll harvest the grapes of wrath.

The soil and the rains and the winds of pain
now have cast upon us the scorn of Cain.

4rh November 2018

Details | Humanity Poem |

Paris the 13th

Paris the 13th

Tears, my tears fall to wine
As I can not comprehend this horrendous crime
Men filled with such spiteful hate
Islamic teachings seal their fate
Kill and slaughter love and smiles
How I pray tell does this bring about
Any compassion of heart, have they no guile?

I have walked along those Parisian streets
Filled with history and diversity, such a feat
Hand in hand, people from so many lands
Dressed in darkness, blacks and grays
The massacre dancing in premonitions sway
Crusaders never win, for love will take its stand

Hundreds taken from Jesus hands
For nothing more than celebrating their great lands
Food and drink and lovers smiles
Stolen this night by hateful bile
We shall rise again, defend and stand

Our blood may flow in the river seine
However in the end its you, who is insane
We shall defend our liberty
Even if we hang evil from the tree

Père Lachaise has brought me tears
Such history over all the years
Yet here I am faced to visit once again

Paying respect to those dying in vain
My heart is fraught, with you till eternity

Liberté, égalité, fraternité


Notes: Pere Lachaise is a famous cemetery in Paris
Liberté, égalité, fraternité is the motto of France

Best Humanity Poems | Poetry

New Humanity Poems

The Best Humanity Poems

A Poetry Collection

Playing Human

American Indian, Nightshades, Moonshadows And Howling Wolf

Childhood

Seb's I Love You Eyes

Hope

The Gifts Of The Fourth Chakra

Door to Nowhere

What Might They Find There

Dear Gustav

That Was a Human

Call Of The Wild

Why I Walk

Everyday is Beautiful

Dear Humanity:

Temptation Itches On All Living Things

Bit Of Truth And Wisdom, Found In Old Age

I Do Not Exist

Joining the Pieces

The Hand of Love

Dark Earth Folds In The Heart's Red Bloom

Neural Symphonies

It

The Scorn Of Cain

Paris the 13th