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Lost In The Red Cross by Ickler, Zammy
Buried In The Red Sea by Billheimer, Clarence
in the red desert of the rising sun by Tirino, Ronald
LADY IN THE RED DRESS by curtis futch jr, kurtis scott aka
In the red by Cameron, Jeffrey
FAT MAN IN THE RED SUITE by curtis futch jr, kurtis scott aka
Girl in the Red Barrette by Sivey, Russell
THE FAT MAN IN THE RED SUIT by curtis futch jr, kurtis scott aka
the girl in the red dress 2 by Ruiz, Anna
Angel in the red dress by Cottingham, julie

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The Best In The Red Poems

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Who Am I

Born in the mountains in the Cumberland Gap
But raised a bit deeper in the red-mud South.
I came into the world with a layer of insecurity
Masked with a thin cover of masculinity.
Sun-baked and hardened like a piece of tar-heel pottery
I’m smooth to the touch, and easily shattered if dropped.
My imperfections are hidden under the shiny glaze of
Southern hospitality and well-cultivated manners--
I survive, day-to-day in a white collar world
Callused hands are hidden by the perfect double Windsor.
My mother named James but called me Jaime 
After the bruised little boy from the trailer next door.
And now, in a starched shirt and shiny leather shoes
I see my reflection in the window
But the face looking back is still dirty.


Copyright © James Andersen | Year Posted 2016


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I Simply Love You

I Simply Love You

In the pastel dawn
	I love You.
In the red hot of noonday
	I love You.
At the green summer teatime
	I love You.
When sunset’s brilliant jewels fade to twilight
	I love You.
In evening’s deep blue and diamond stars
	I love You.
As I close my eyes to black of black,
	I love You.
And ‘til dawn to dawn, and forever dawns,
	I love You.


Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2017


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Testament

My father's abeng blew up my mother's womb
And I was chained there
Nine months in darkness drinking blood
Longing for my resurrection from the tomb
Longing to break the chains
Holding me before my birth to a carnal earth
Longing to stop him pounding
Pounding on the door of my bereft eternity
I carrying the weight of him already
The weight of them against the gravity
Of my life. My wings folded
Longing wield sword edge of flight against the sun
I burdened to undo what already is done
Have no finality here.

Look at me like an eagle flying in the sun
Blood dripping from my talons when the flight is done
O let me cleanse the world again
In the red flood that alters pain.

One day I was born screaming for a cause
I could not take kindly to tradition
Slapping black and blue a baby's arse ... laws
Must have been broken to beat the innocent
Unless it is a crime to come into this earth
To carry so much legacy
From maroon history to Jesus Christ, blacklisted
Like my my forebears: Shaka
Father of my grandfather's mother,
My other grandfather, Accompong warrior
Slain between the stones of Holland Estate and Mountain
Bridging the way for fleeing slaves
I come Cudjo less, Nanny less, merciless
Carrying on the war of generations
Calling no more for repatriation but reparation
Of human rights, human dignity, and racial sovereignty
Where Africa may find again its concord
Without false treaty and flimsy accord
Raping the Congo of natural resources and life
I come, the bushing through guinea grass
Tumbling kingdoms with wisdom and knife.
For this I was born, beaten at birth
Given resurrection from the night of earth.

My father sought to be civilize
Recite poems of Britannia's might and lies
And I, I was singing with the night
Reading a long history of pain to make write
Of my own proclamations, to declare
I shall not bend my knees, nor walk in fear
Where death measure us in dust
And vampires and conquistadores lust
For El Dorado buried in my disgust.
I am a man, and I will make my monument of truth
Upon the gravestone of the brute.


Copyright © L'nass Shango | Year Posted 2009


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A Religious Man

I sat in church listening to the preacher
Without hearing a single word he said
I was thinking about the football scores
And my favorite team instead

As they passed around the collection plate
I put my money in
Wondering just what was the going rate 
To have God absolve you of your sin

When it came time to share a sign of peace
I turned to the pretty lady in the red dress
Giving her my most pious smile
Trying real hard to impress

I shook the preacher’s hand at the door
Saying I loved his sermon that day
Anxious to get out of my tie
And to be on my merry way

As I stopped at the traffic light
With the windows down in my new car
A homeless man walked up to me
And started talking real bizarre

He said, “You know there’s nothing special about Sundays
Nothing special about the building they call a church
By simply going through the ritual
You don’t improve what your soul is worth”

“If you would rather be watching football games
You can talk to me some other time when you are free
And twenty dollars in a collection basket
Doesn’t buy your soul out of poverty”

“That lady in the red dress
Is much too young for you
And you have to fix the relationship you are in
Before moving on to someplace new”

The cars were honking from behind me
Because the traffic light was green
I turned around to shout at them
Then turned back and that man was nowhere to be seen

I drove the rest of the way home in a haze
Wondering if I imagined the whole scene
But when I turned on the football game
That man was in a commercial on my screen

“So think about the words I said
And talk to me on your own time
In a location of your choosing
When you are in the right frame of mind”

“I am always available to hear you
And provide guidance along the way
But the outcome of these football games
Is not a thing for which to pray”

So, I gave up church on Sundays
And I donate to other charities instead
And today I am a more religious man
Always conversing with God inside my head


Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2012


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Traces

Traces
In the wet sand
Footprints of gulls, and man
Disappear in the tidal dance
Of waves.

Traces
In the red dust
Feet of man, and horses
Up in canyons, leave no trace of
The brave.

Traces
In the garden
Of such delightful scents
In spring and summer by winter
Erased.

Traces
Of human life
Throughout world's history
However, are reported upon its
Pages.
Traces
Of wins and woes
Like hand prints upon walls
Can't be erased, for their foothold
Remains.


Copyright © Caroline Cécile Delacroix | Year Posted 2011


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Ready and Willing to Work

The job search continues, though unemployment has run out
For me, accepting a government handout set a precedent
If only the largest corporations are to qualify for bailouts
Then I’d like to shake up Washington and run for president

Not of the United States, no, I don’t want Obama’s job
But I’d like to take the reins of a business with some courage
To refuse taxpayer money like Ford, not GM on the rob
Like the public, I’d heal corporate wounds with my own bandage

Now I fill my hours volunteering for various causes
Senior centers and children’s groups show appreciation
Operating in the red, they are used to accepting losses
And in my heart I receive a different type of compensation


Copyright © Diane Locksley | Year Posted 2010


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SHALL WE DANCE

SHALL WE DANCE

Shall we dance, as two snakes encircling one another,
A bite to the strike, whom draws the first blood of 
Passions bitter poison.
Venomous vipers, engaged in a twisted game of hidden desires,
Shielded by golden bands of confinements vows of promise, 
Yet yielding under the guise of the serpent’s folk tongue.
Reptilian lovers Intertwining, beneath the light rays of the 
Elliptical moons illumination, deceiver’s side slithering,
The truth of reality’s harsh dawning to come.
Desert tempest creatures, crushed under the swelling
Sand storms of destiny, rising in the winds rip tidal shift
Of exotic’s throngs of passion, then dashed upon the
Rocks of calamity’s destructive force.
Behold the skins of shame, we’ve shed in this our lost
Garden of paradise called Eden, as we descend limb
By limb, unraveling, retanggling, in a mutual enticement’s
Partaking of the unripen fruit, in this the harvested
Orchard of deceit, and lies of pleasure spoils.
Rattling’s bad to the bone species, are these
Deceiver’s dwelling under the moonlight, 
Loves vanquished, by passions burnt embers
Of lusts cold blooded flame.
Veracity’s fiercest retile's in mortal combat
With their human hearts, or their raw physical
Basic instincts, the animal within themselves,
The beast of desire, exposing the coiling in raptures
After glow of the exotic.
In the emerald eyes of the snakes flashing, these
Are the transfixed, paralyzed prisoners of loves
Passionate vipers, the cursed of the forbidden.
Poisons intoxicated figures, silhouetted in the red
Moons seduction zone, he the hooded king cobra,
And I his empress taipan of the orient.
Glittering do our scales of temptation, damnation,
Oh but to die in this incoilment’s display of eternal
Abandonment, a climatic apex of poisonous predators,
Ripping, tarring at their bare exposed fleshes
Atonement, unsheived are these carnivores
Of passion.
Shall we dance, as two snakes encircling one another,
A bite to the strike, whom draws the first blood
Of passions bitter poison.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN







Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015


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Deeper than seas

Deeper than seas





Depths of man's heart, deeper than the seas,
Constant turbulence, in the red that flows,
But invisible love, which no one can see,
Reflecting on cheeks, as golden after glows,
Much deeper than seas in the red that flows !

Dive deep within, to lose self to passion, 
Thoughtless mind, dare not say a word,
Rolling down the cheeks, tears in succession,
Loudest screams of heart, can't ever be heard,
Tears roll in succession, dare not say a word !

Trapped in a whirlpool, yet not seek an escape,
Living lifeless in no love, is as good as die, 
Letting go all emotions, is not real piece of cake,
Sweet sorrows of parting, till tears may dry,
Yet not seek an escape, till tears may dry !







Written February 2nd, 2015
For Craig's contest "Manassian quintain"

Entered for poetry contest " Theme #6- The sea- Old/New" by SKAT A
Awarded 10th place win


Copyright © Dr. Upma A. Sharma | Year Posted 2015


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The Week Before Xmas

Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle all the way,
Oh what fun it is to pay that credit card today.
Lots of stuff, mostly junk, keeps us in the red,
Need to keep a little back, just to keep us fed.
.
Dashing through the store, pushing left and right,
Looking for the sales.. Couldn’t sleep last night.
Country’s in a mess, shouldn’t spend this way,
Just found out I kept my job, for at least another day.

Jingle bells, Jingle Bell, Jingle all the way,
Holy Cow, I can’t wait, until the month of May.




Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2008


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River of Blood




...Thus saith the Lord GOD; Behold, I am
against thee, Pharaoh king of Egypt, the
great dragon that lieth in the midst of his
rivers, which hath said, My river is mine
own, and I have made it for myself
Ezek. 29:3


The first plague the Lord GOD
had Moses to do,
was to smite the river of Egypt
with the rod ... 
	turn the water into blood
This was justice being served,
but God was more merciful than Pharaoh was
The king of Egypt gave a wicked decree:
he said, kill every Hebrew male baby
Go toss them into the Nile,
feed them to the crocodiles
	A generation of innocent blood
spilled in the water
So God commanded Moses
	to turn that water to blood
Pharaoh had delighted in seeing
the dragons in the river open their mouths,
and feed on the holy seed
The Devil tried to kill Jesus Christ
through retroactive abortion
Tried to snuff out every Hebrew male infant’s life,
	make the river of Egypt rise
		with the blood cries of countless babies
Pharaoh loved to open the crocodiles’ eyes,
whet their serpent appetite ... 
make their mouths open wide
He wanted to kill the Deliverer, the Prince of Life
	So God said: Turn that river to blood,
let the Egyptians drink deep of their sins
But God was more merciful than them:
He let them live, gave them a space of time to repent
400 years was the set time,
until Moses was drawn from the bloody waters of the Nile
Moses was a resurrection miracle child

River of Egypt   ...   river of blood
Death overflowing in the delta like a flood

In the end, God told Moses
to bury Pharaoh and his army in the Red Sea,
for being so bloody
Looks like justice was served properly


Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017


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Squatter Jack

Squatter Jack

have you lived awhile in west Queensland,
out in the red soil dust,
where the crows will pick your eyes out and,
bore water is a must,
have you seen a thin and starving cow,
not a blade of grass to eat,
the timber`s gone no Mulga now......(13% protein in leaves)
just the deadly summer heat,
the squatter flogged his paddocks out,
too many cattle there,
he thought good seasons were about,
but we know they are rare,
so now he tears his hair out,
and cries poor bloody me.
we`ll have to subsidise the lout
when he whines so publicly
the old cow bogged in the dam today
and there she`ll likely lie
the crows will take her eyes away
before she gets to die
scrub Mulga`s tucker in a drought   (Mulga tree)
on the bushy limbs they`ll thrive
where some mugs had it bulldozed out
no cattle left alive
then the rain it comes after years of drought
and the grass is green and sweet
they`ll forget the bad times have no doubt
till dead cows are flyblown meat.
by D H Johnson.


Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011


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if ya Cark it

a smile on the dial as off you go, saint Peter is waiting ya maybe no, stay away from me Joe the crow, u aint gettin me eyeballs later ...oh
Don If ya lived awhile in west Queensland, out in the red soil dust, where crows will pick ya eyes, out n bore water is a must. When you or an animal is dying the crows line up for sweets...


Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011


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American Bank Robbery in zoin of Roy, ut

lyRical safe 
i don't think sO 
why the bus there is  
as danGers as the sitting in my own homE
i am a Coward 
i do shake with fear 
for i am sure of my death 
i am a citizens of the United States
a Land that Is loved by me 
but give me No rights 
gives me no protection under The law
how else cOuld someone rob my safe despot box 
in broad day light  
i the coward dare Not speak up 
i the coward was shaking in my boots 
when i saw the man in the red turban
standing there in the bank
as i came from the should be safety deposit box
the box that was fill with my lyrics 
the lyrics the famous keep stealing  
the lyrics that where under lock and key?

i do hate the coward in me  
what do you think (Wikileaks)
 



Copyright © verlecia fields | Year Posted 2017


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IN THE MARKET FOR SEX - INSPIRED BY CONTEST

Sue lurks in the shadows of the night 
She stands on the street corner in the red light area of town
Her body is silhouetted by street light flickering through the naked trees
Wrecked by years of drug abuse she craves her next fix
Skin-tight clothing outlines every curve of her aching body
High-heeled shoes and fishnet tights complete her seedy outfit

It's a bitterly cold November night; Sue pulls her jacket around her body,
it only just skims the hem of her miniskirt, giving no protection from the elements,… she struggles desperately to keep warm



Eventually a car pulls up, 
A guy rolls down the window and she saunters over
After a brief conversation she gets in and they drive away
He’s in the market for sex
Desperation forces her to sell her body 

Inspired by but not for contest

3/23/18


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2018


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Fifty Shades of Black



What’s the color of forced migration pain?
Ask a black person in America,
and you’ll get fifty different slave answers

What’s the silent sound of invisible chains?
Fifty killahurts of black ... 
Aryan brotherhood iron swastikas uniting

What’s the latest “pull the trigger” hate spin?
Fifty states of fascist terror — 
Goshen ghettos under daily thought policing

Who got their Klan thumbs 
pressing heavy on the justice scales?
Increasing the widow population of the cemetery cells
Who got their hooded hands 
casino slot turning the roulette wheel?
Decreasing the charitable portion of the orphan meals

America’s moral debts are in the red
Haughty heifer blame your mounting troubles
on the poor black scapegoats instead

Fifty shades of dark overcast gloom
hanging over the branches of the oak tree
Liberty got locked in a buried room
waiting for   captivity’s end   to be set free

Fifty shades of rejection in vessels of doom
Thirteen colonies 
of spotted lepers will be coming home soon

Fifty shades of black ... 
let the moon eclipse the sun
Fifty shades of stars ...
let the striped prisoners run



Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2018


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Loving Light

I stare into the mesmerizing fire, 
watching the flames dance in the night.
As a breeze passes by, the flames peak higher
I am caught up in the red and gold flickering light.

Whisps of smoke rise into the night sky,
then they disappear from sight.
Watching and knowing this beautiful fire will die.
Bringing to mind, life loosing its loving light.



Copyright © Sandra Weiss | Year Posted 2018


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Living the Dream

My nightmare is so tangible...so vividly I dream,
The dream, it feels so true to me...reality it seems.

Exhaust and smoke are all I breathe...the air is full of smog...
The job I do is thankless toil, but I work it like a dog.

There's mercury in the fish I eat...there're toxins in my food...
And drugs, they are a constant scourge...myriads for every mood.

Bipolar is my government...a house divided 'tis...
And corporations drive both sides...in the pockets of "Big Biz".

The icecaps, they are melting...the sea is rising, too.
Pandas, condors, polar bears -- empty cages at the zoo.

My money ne'er seems quite enough...I'm always out of cash...
My freedom fled when I wed my bride...(live I under the lash).

"Entertainment"? Reality TV...maybe some vampire shows...
Or idjits becoming household names for being beachfront "ho's".

People clamor "climate change" from the seats of S.U.V.'s,
And bitter news on the honey front...what's killing all the bees?

Politicians spending more...we go deeper in the red.
Opinions dressed as "news" abound...is journalism dead?

Cell phones are ubiquitous...conversation's endangered now...
And "Kardashians" are famous girls..but who knows why or how?

How strange my twisted psyche is t'make real what must be fake...
Now'f only I could find some way to get myself to wake.


Written on November 27th, 2012
By Daniel Beus (Rebel Sun)


Copyright © Daniel Beus | Year Posted 2012


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Money doesn't buy happiness

Big house, three cars and shopping evryday.  Materialism, socalisim and consumerism. Ism, 
ism ,ism.  Being in debt.

In the RED. Stressed out.  Diamond rings, bling, bling , bling.
Bored and no hope. Greed and deceit.

Money dosen't by happiness.


Copyright © Yasmin Ilahi | Year Posted 2009


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Kirsty (one)

Even now I sit, slump, shuddering,
Remembering...
Stale walls echoing lamenting calls,
their house...
A nightmare flickered in the red herring of betrayal.
Stumbling hormones, skinless evil.
it breathed...
Blood red lips snarling, capturing someone else essence, bone dry.
A nightmare...
Deliberately slithering up my calf, I grasped a cube of insanity as a last hope.

The shock...
Dead eyes feared a toy box, a fragmented sense
clung to my only protection, my untouched hell.
Blood soaked, dripping sweat, saturated fear I escaped...

I awoke...
Demons hell-bent on demise. Curiosity craved,
crushed my soul into submission,
But it's just a box...
Teeth exposed, chattered, blindly shoved fingers in to catch my tongue,
the taste of soured flesh.
Wait...
A vibrating voice crackled static pain, shivered in pleasure.
He escaped...
Bargaining, a blissful retreat, whilst exposing incompetence, irrational?
Go to hell.

Run...
Pounded at death's door, let me in...
Dad...
Warned the worm of the vulture, coming to devour its soul.

Something didn't fit, the sacrifice seeping into the floor smelt half human.
A twang...
Realisation, cold, the door creaked, locked,
grinning gruesomely, the veins pulsing along a sadistic mind,
Quaking, i flinched around to a lubricated nightmare,
clenching my muscles, the hiss of hell's rapture...

A prison shook, a prisoner shrieked,
Sanity split like perfect fission, slime coated his
perverted call...

Come, to daddy.


Copyright © Holly King | Year Posted 2010


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Beginnings Endings

Beginnings – Endings

Out of the darkest reaches of time and space
came molten minerals, gasses, rocks, comets
– life traversing aeons, in suspended animation
across millions of light years, billions of desolate miles
creating unseen universe after universe,
creating unseen solar system after solar system.

Past galaxies, black holes, quasars, supernovas,
planets with their moon / moons orbiting.
Time and space expanding, along side, ride
asteroids, meteors, comets and star dust.
Star dust, travelling in time and space
follows a subconscious wave, a coarse

that has taken them – particles of life –
into this little blue planet and all that inhabit.
A fight for life, in the heat of battles with the gods,
was won, the gods kicked our ass into the prefect place
as star dust, eggs, came crashing down
their shells, shattered, melted away, as they

entered this little blue planets, once gray, atmosphere.
Upon entering, having contact with Mother Natures furry,
found their way into Mother Natures, pot of stew,
within which they grew, divided and conquered,
after millions and millions of years of evolution,
disasters, mutations, genetic manipulations

that brought out of the darkness a metamorphous
and their core essence, the yolk separated.
Separated into millions of microorganism, atoms,
millions of diverse cells, that in corporation, became all,
all that we thought we have known about life on this planet.
Until one fine day the gods finally got it right

and from the primordial – chicken gumbo – soup
we animate cells climbed, and the inanimate cells
lay in stone and other lifeless – in our view -  lives
as we evolved arms, legs, hands, feet – animal magnetism.
On days – every thirty six hundred years –
gods were at their closest point to the slaves they created.

They would come and tweak our genes until no longer
homo Neanderthal, ruled, no longer Cro-Magnon ruled,
the gods finally got it right and homo sapiens rule !!!
After all, we were created in the likeness of the gods
and did not the gods rule, and now god rules.
The gods sent their sons to investigate the progress

of what they had thrown onto this once barren rock
– our little blue planet – observe and obtain, to create
change in this upright creature that crawled out of the seas,
- and they mated with the daughters of created man –
who, after many alterations, natural mutations and genetic
manipulations – evolved from a single cell into an exotic creature

in the oceans, to this gorgeous mammal, upright upon land
who became the forefathers of man – from Austaustralopithecus,
Africanus, Homo-Rudolfensis, Homo Erectus, Neanderthal
and finally us – Homo Sapiens - Sapiens, the children of the gods,
gods who decided our fate ( slaves for all eternity ) with their
spaced out wisdom, and in their likeness, war against each other,

conquer, kill off nations, drown legions in the red sea, nuke cities
- Sodom and Gomorrah – wiped out the Earth with a tsunami
or at least, did little to prevent it, except to give man the ark,
that floating  laboratory with its vials of genetic material, D N A.
I think I am getting carried away, being a little redundant at times,
but the show must go on so that we can see man’s journey.

That spaced out wisdom – genetically create man in our likeness,
our image, we will give the evolution of man, a jump start,
we will insert, into his D N A, the essence from our gene pool,
at our science centre ( the garden of EDEN ) then Adam, and EVE,
the prototypes for us modern man / woman – the likeness of us gods.
Enter the sons of the gods, who found such beauty in the daughter of man,

the creations of the of their heavenly fathers, and began to lay – sleep –
with them giving birth to legends, – some horror stories -, creatures,
myths, stories of good and evil that have become the legacy of man.
We – mankind – are no better than the gods, the sons of the gods
who brought us out of our animal magnetism and into consciousness.
We are like them - the gods, the sons of the gods -  as the bible

and all the following religions – Adidam, Ásatrú, Atenism, Ayyavazhi, 
Aztec religion, Bahá'í Faith, Bön, Buddhism, Cheondoism, Christianity, 
Confucianism, Discordianism, Druidism, Druze, Ancient Egyptian religion
Etruscan religion, Ancient Greece, Hermeticism.Hinduism, Islam,
Jainism, Judaism etc., etc. – as well as the Sanskrit, tell us we are.
We fight among ourselves for control, for power, for prestige,

for all that we believe is our god given right as we lay siege
to the lands, the mineral rights etc., etc., laying waste
to Mother Earth and man, all that keeps this planet alive,
in our greed, our desire to dominate, in our haste
to achieve what ?, what in the end will not help us survive.
What will we learn ?, what will we derive ?

In the final analysis, will this planet last another million years ?
Or soon be lost, leaving itself and us in a tsunami of tears
that is about to drown history, mankind and all,
as, into space, Mother Earth, her children will fall.
Then, will we see, truly hear the gods call,
will they save us ?, take us into another hall.

B. J. “A” 2 ( Bill . )
June 13th 2004


Copyright © William J. Jr. Atfield | Year Posted 2014


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Flying Reindeer

A flying reindeer drank much beer
Wanting to be full of Christmas cheer,
When the man in the red suit pulled his rein
He wobbled in the sky with such disdain
He filled poor Santa with fear.


Copyright © john williams | Year Posted 2015


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Red Dawn

In the red of morning
Nothing but almond blossom
And frog song


Copyright © Uwe Stroh | Year Posted 2014


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Divine Comedy translation, Hell Canto XI

On the extremity of  a tall bank 
Of big broken stones in round circle done
We reached up a more cruel clutter flank;

And there, for the horrible and strong stun
Of rotten stench which the deep abyss throws,
We then approached, from back, a stone lid dun

Of a large grave, where written words arose
Telling: “Pope Anastasio I see,
Who to Fotin the wrong way could impose”.

“Our getting down suitably slow should be,
So that we use not sense at first too much
Toward bad souls, and then at high degree”.

So my master; and I “No fee as such”,
Told him, “Finds the one who obtains that time
Is not lost”. And he: “My thought you touch”.

“My dear son, inside this stony grime”,
He started to tell, “Three small circles are
Grade after grade, as the one you just climb.

All are full of souls accursed by far;
And even if their view enough be might,
You may know why they have such a bar.

Of all evils, which blame in God ignite,
Hurt is the end, and any end is thus
With force or fraud to else a stinging bite.

But since fraud in man is wrong built in plus,
Displeases God; and for this are more low
Fraudulents, and have more sorrow and cuss.

Violent people have all the first bow;
But since three kinds of forces are in act,
It is shared in three turns I shall show.

To God, to oneself, to else is impact
Produced, either to them or to their things,
As you shall hear and feel quite well in fact.

Death with wildness and painful stings
To else are given, and to what he has too
Ruins, fire and whatever losses brings;

Thus killers and any who wildness grew,
Robbers and raiders, harasses them all
The circle first just for damned not a few.

A man can in himself roughness install
And in his goods too: but in the doors
Of second circle he has then to bawl

Whoever self  deprives in world of yours,
Bets and destroys his goods in full indeed,
And cries just there where joy ought to have corps.

One might too against God roughness mislead,
Within heart denying and cursing him,
Despising his nature and his good deed; 

For this reason marks in the lowest rim
Both Sodoma and Caorsa with his sign
And who, with heart against  God exerts vim.

Fraud, for which any conscience has to pine, 
Might man exert against whom gives him trust
And when a loan return has to decline.

This way of acting looks as breaking just
Even the bond of love which nature did;
So that in the second circle stay must

Cant, flattery, and who uses cheat bid,
Deceitfulness, theft, and simony too,
Pimps, fences and similar degraded.

Such way of acting then that love cuts through
Done by nature, and the one which adds next,
Which can a special form of faith accrue;

Thus in the minor circle, at the plex
Of universe where Dite happen to dwell,
Whoever deceives is forever vexed”.

And I: “Master, progresses clearly well
Your reasoning, and it shows clear  indeed
This abyss and folks which here live and  fell.

But tell me: that people in the swamp decreed,
Windswept, and hardly swept by rain,
And with harsh words to ever fighting cede,

Why aren’t they in the red town domain
Punished, if are that much in wrath to God?
And if doesn’t feel so, why in that bane?

And he to me: “Why is your mind so flawed”,
Told, ”your genius from usual is so far?
Or your mind by something else might be awed?

Don’t you now remember those words which are 
The ones your Ethics then well knows and wants
The three provisions which heavens bar,

Incontinence, malice and also taunts
Of mad wildness? And how incontinence
Less God offends of  people who it flaunts?

If you consider well again this sentence,
And recall to your mind now who are those
That just up there outside have penitence,

You see well how for such sinners it goes 
A different way, and why worried less
Divine revenge hits them but then less close”.

“Oh sun which aids any sight under stress,
You can fill so much my hope when you solve,
That, more than knowing, I like  doubts to guess.

Yet back just a little you should revolve”,
I told, “where is who with usury hits
The divine goodness, and the knot  resolve”

“Philosophy”, he told me, “If  brain fits,
Notes, and not only in one of its parts,
How nature always hers good pattern gets

From divine mind and also from his arts;
And if your Physics are perceiving well,
You shall find, and not after many charts,

That your art, when possible, to excel
As scholar with master, follows that one
So that your art can almost God propel. 

From these two, if your thought can also run
To Genesis from beginning, is right
To get  own life and surpass the outdone; 

And since the usurer chose a way trite,
Neither nature nor what it follows yet
Prizing, to pose his hope in else he might.

But follow me by now, I like sky set;
Since Fishes flicker on horizon up
And Dipper above Chorus is to get

And at the flounce above is our down step”. 


Copyright © Mario DE PAZ | Year Posted 2014


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Patradoot or The Messenger 39 /50

Patradoot or The Messenger 39 /50

English version by Ravindra K Kapoor 
Originally written in Hindi by my 
Late father Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor



When in the nectar pond of her mouth,
My kiss use to take breathe, dear,
Even the pride of the beauties of heaven,
Seems faded before her charms, dear letter 

When during her extreme laughs and passions,
The rows of her pearl like teeth appeared, 
They use to wave like necklace of pearl, 
In the red shines of her lovely lips, dear letter.

The round mark of her forehead used to disappear,  
Whenever her face shined with luster dear, 
Also during our love making, 
When pride ever came in her mind, dear letter.

Such lovely face, of the moonfaced my beloved,
You would find without a smile dear letter,
The face that never bent in self respect,
You will find  plight full, dear letter.

Her limbs which she used to keep covered,
With the softness and colors of beautiful silk sarees,
You would find them covered now with,
Coarse cotton Khadi colorless sarees, dear letter.

Seeing her motherland in miseries, 
And her people unfed and uncovered,
She must be wearing that coarse clothes,
On her tender body in sympathy of her people,

Ravindra

Kanpur India      013th Sept 2010                     continues in 40

Based on the true freedom struggle story of Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor

Protected as per Poetry Soup’s copy write protections 

Note:
If any reader who is not a member of Poetry soup
Has any question or queries, they can 
Send me an email on kapoor_skk@yahoo.com

Patradoot in Hindi was originally written by my late father 
Dr. Amar Nath Kapoor around 1932, who was a freedom fighter.

He wrote Patradoot in Hindi, when he was kept in Faizabad Jail for quite
a long time. The Epic was written as a gift for my mother and it was
sent to her secretly from Faizabad Jail. He was imprisoned
by the British, as he was fighting for India's freedom 
under the leadership of Mahatma Gandhi. He was imprisoned 
many times during 1920 to 1947. After India’s
independence as a true follower of Gandhi Dr. Amar Nath 
Kapoor left active politics and devoted rest of his life in 
writing easy mass literature and wrote many Dramas, 
Poetry books, epics. All his other literary 
works were mainly written from 1955 to 1990. 
He left this mortal world in 1994.


Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2010


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Twelve Days Of Christmas

His young bride took the Twelve Days of Christmas to extremes it seems!
His true love kept piling on strange things well beyond his fairest dreams!
On the First Day of Christmas she gave him a shovel for shoveling snow.
On the Second Day of Christmas she gave him a fifty-cent jug of Red Bordeaux.
On the Third Day of Christmas he was presented with a scruffy mutt.
On the Fourth Day of Christmas he received a one-way ticket to Terre-Haute.
On the Fifth Day of Christmas she graced his skull with a silly beanie cap.
On the Sixth Day of Christmas she handed him an African contour map.
On the Seventh Day of Christmas he received a used Michelin radial tire.
On the Eighth Day of Christmas he was stunned to get a strand of barbed wire.
On the Ninth Day of Christmas he got a life-membership in the Red Hat Society.
On the Tenth Day of Christmas a collection of horseshoes, a most bizarre variety.
On the Eleventh Day of Christmas a parrot that spoke naughty words so gross.
On the Twelfth Day of Christmas he got the Visa Card bill leaving him morose.
He was underwhelmed by all this useless stuff and thought it mighty queer.
He was under the impression that Christmas came but once a year!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved

Placed No.3 in PD'S "12 Days of X-Mass" Contest - December 2012


Copyright © Robert L. Hinshaw | Year Posted 2012