Best Monuments Poems
Statues, iconoclasts love to destroy
Toppling monuments brings them great joy
Keeps them all limber
As they shout ‘Timber’
Columbus crashed down saying ~ ‘Land ahoy’
Calloused canvas, etched with sun and rain,
A map of toil, where muscles speak their pain.
No crown adorns it, nor scepter's gilded shine,
But in its grip, a legacy entwines.
Not pharaohs' monuments, nor empires vast,
But fields that nourish, homes that rise at last.
Bricks laid true, with sweat for mortar's hold,
A city's pulse, in stories yet untold.
No artist's brush, nor poet's lyric grace,
But hammers tapping, leaving their own trace.
Steel forged and shaped, with fire's ardent kiss,
A symphony of sparks, where dreams don't miss.
Not ruler's scepter, nor scholar's quill,
But thread spun fine, with patient, practiced skill.
Garments woven, warmth against the cold,
A mother's love, in stitches neatly told.
No warrior's blade, nor priest's anointed hand,
But seeds that sprout, at farmer's wise command.
Land nurtured, yielding life anew,
A cycle's dance, beneath a sky so blue.
No sculptor's chisel, nor architect's grand plan,
But tools that mend, held by a steady hand.
Machines repaired, with rhythmic, whirring hum,
A world kept turning, never truly numb.
Not surgeon's scalpel, nor teacher's guiding pen,
But streets swept clean, where children play again.
Invisible threads, that bind a community,
A hand unseen, yet vital, you can see.
So raise your gaze, beyond the gilded frame,
To hands that build, the ones without a name.
For in their toil, a nation's spirit thrives,
A tapestry of labour, where humanity survives.
With precision we carved out the sand
here at home, down on your cursed land
We defy you to try
You will surely fail. Why?
We used nothing that looks like your hand.
Attracting either scientific or popular area
Containing several hills in the region Cydonia
One of the images taken by Viking on 25th July
The name Cydonia drawn from classical antiquity.
The image with a seeming look of a human face,
Let loose the human imagination inborn base.
To look at a thing is different from seeing a thing
Until we see its beauty we don’t see anything.
A hill, nothing but a space created illusive reality
Resembling a human face, a logical fallacy
Wrong speculation, demon haunted world on Mars
Let the future tell us if it is a real play or farce.
==========================================
Fourth place win in:
Sphinx on Mars Contest
Statues and some faded pictures
repatriation and reburial of bones
cold war Soviet tanks and the AK-47
all that remains of the Freedom Struggle giants
who drove the colonizers back to their cradles
talked to the spirits of the ancestors
There is an invisible force of cartel members
so big they turned against their own people
so big they lurked behind anthills
so big with clever fingers
who had no machinery and dug dungeons
in Angola's unforgiving terrain
killers of freedom
they couldn't compete with the Freedom Struggle icons
who came from the heartland's extremities
Post-independence people
born-free generation
executives of neo-colonialism
special advisors
tender-preneurs
Chinese settlers
(they have never imagined us in their future)
how could we imagine them in the past
marooned in exile
many years ago
with bitter tears streaming down our faces?
The Freedom Struggle is presumed dead. Sirens blare.
A moment of silence stretches into years.
Tomorrow is Independence Day
But no one remembers what to commemorate.
What rare anthology of freedom sits till tomorrow
in the contaminated air where we talk now,
armed with our indiscriminate hate
there on Heroes Acre and obvious side of right?
KUTUB MINAR
A
Line
Upright
Reminds
A slave
A king
A court
Witness
Intrigues
Pitying
Avariced
Thrusts
Miseried
Minions
Staring
Baring
Nothing
Form: Shape
LOTUS TEMPLE
Peacock
Park.Touching turf.
Gem afloat flowing grace
A pinnacle. Where is the prince.
Claustrophobic confines open out now
Opened up. What vibrant white trance.
I turn a clairvoyant
I’m everywhere
Peace, peace
Form: Rictameter
For Catie Lindsey's contest.
Latter day idols
Scrape the sky and
Stand as Monuments;
Harboring the corruption of men.
A true monument
Stands out in the open.
The real beauty
Forgotten by the Creators.
Beneath the feet of these giants,
Lay solemn foundations of hope.
Ruins
In our arrogance, we humans
build monuments to ourselves.
We seek to subjugate nature
to our whims and desires.
We erect buildings for
our comfort and ease.
Designing them to last
for all eternity.
Isolating ourselves from
all that is natural.
In the end,
nature has the final word
and nothing is left of us but
ruins.
THE MONUMENTS MARK OUR EVIDENCE
Stop! Wait! Be Still!
This isn’t the way to heal!
Tearing down statues of the past,
Removing the passion behind what we feel.
Listen to my urgent cry,
You’re not destroying what was,
It is our Ebony Trail of Tears
Our reason, our because.
Just because it’s history,
doesn’t make it beautiful,
Laws made on our misery,
To them, to kill us, dutiful.
The monuments mark our evidence,
To rid them is not suitable,
Will not remove what’s relevant,
Only making our cause more prevalent.
Teach now your children harmony,
Love than hate our musical,
No longer enslaved by memory,
Teach them your freedom beautiful.
Still yes, they are stone memories,
But let them not make you relive
They are the pavements of our history
A past from now we’re healed
Love And Hate, Monuments Often Born From The Cold
Love and Hate, monuments often born from cold
Truth is wisdom in the restless frigid air
Each rides on a consuming storm of the bold
With tributes often given whether wrong or fair!
Love, sings on a lofty cloud of pure delight
Complete with a heartache and stolen Soul
Like a magic rainbow just coming into sight
Wisdom and Folly both rest within the same bowl!
Hate, rides aloft in a forceful crashing wind
The product of emotions flying high and deep
So very often with no bottom and without end
A nightmare that crashes out from a dark sleep!
Truth, the light that cast out darkened Hate
A soothing breeze cruising in on a hot day
If found, the saving is never bad or too late
Instead path found to Love and Live another way!
Robert J. Lindley. 06-20-2015
Note: Do not blame me, my muse beat on me until I relented
and hammered this one on out.
An ocean's depth lies between The Georgia Guidestones
and England's Salisbury Plains, where Stonehenge stands.
Though they appear on different continents, they share
mysterious secrets that have never quite been explained.
Were they erected as a cryptic message for all of mankind,
or esoteric giants raised on earth, new or eons of years ago?
Commissioned by modern man or the hierarchy of occult?
Vertical, they stand, monoliths in fields of space and time,
Silent are the henges, forged in history, draped in moss
circular in shape, one age old set encircling the other.
Praised as an archaeological wonder, aligning with the sun,
a healing place or time's gateway used by priest and Druids?
The Georgian stones appear to me as a set of double doors,
Inscribed on their surfaces are lines of grave warning and laws.
heralding "truth, beauty and love, passion faith and tradition."
One distinct language, and a guide limiting world population.
Perhaps Stonehenge is just a monument to the dead, but that's
not the simple minded perception that rolls around in my head.
I believe there's something more significant to the ancient stones
that we can only conceive if the Druids want it made known.
November 27, 2021
Georgehenge Stone Cold Minds Reflect Contest
Sponsored by Joe Maverick
While visiting the grave of a friend I lost to God,
I found there one marked only by a tag.
Set in the sand on a thin steel rod,
With all the posture of a paper bag.
I paused, but soon after, passed this pathetic sight,
My thoughts on my own death to be,
And hoped deep within, when I’d lose my light,
That there would be a monument of me.
I came upon a statue, higher than myself,
Weighing at the base at least a ton.
I knew, very well, that my collected wealth,
Could make a bigger and a better one.
But soon I saw a woman crying,
A red rose in her hand
She fell as if her soul was dying,
Then calmly kissed the sand.
I noticed she was lying at the grave, I saw before.
The one with just a label there to show.
The one that by my pride, so quick I would ignore,
But then I greater wisdom I would know.
The greatest structure for a man, isn’t made of stone,
Erosion will alleviate its goal.
The thing that will survive is the love that he has shown.
-The true composition of the soul.
Ravage our monuments,
empowered dissidents.
Endless entitlements,
from spineless governments.
In this era unplanned,
by fathers of the land.
Divided we stand,
in moral wasteland.
Many white Americans still struggle with the issue of racism in the 21st century.This started with the Confederate monuments. The Confederate monuments do not have the same meaning to black Americans. While white americans view these works as a part of history, a past that cannot be covered over or changed ; the symbols of confederate officers being celebrated as heroes in public places to black americans will always symbolize a stain on America's very ideals. It was these people who fought to keep black Americans in enslavement and without any hope of being considered as equals to the white race. It was a wise move for cities to remove these statues and public monuments as it did not speak well for the image of America to continue to honor people who fought to deny people their basic rights and freedoms.
Those white Americans who were opposed to the removal of confederate monuments and statues, showed that they were insensitive to the black community and even antagonistic toward it. It showed that they did not understand black americans and how they felt. It was a
sign of how out of touch white Americans were with the black community.
It sits out in your driveway
a glittering metallic sculpture.
It costs more than your house,
you love it more than your spouse.
You can hardly drive it, it’s too high,
you can barely park it, it’s so wide.
Like an exotic compulsion, you need it,
though you can barely afford to feed it.
There’s a cockpit with winking tech,
offering a printer, wi-fi and refrigeration.
It can pull a house off its foundation.
Is there a tendentious ecological statement,
in this prestigious resource you need for work
is the fact that it’s tax deductible just a perk?
With this polished and pampered machine,
you get the rewards of effective parenting,
as it literally reflects the care that it’s given.
It’s a spaceship ready for expedition,
what else in creation is as elysian,
as your gigantic pickup truck.
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songs for this:
Dreamin’ by G. Love and Special Sauce
Driving by Everything but the Girl
Little Deuce Coupe by Andrew Gold