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Best Peaceable Poems

Immigration and Naturalization

As I struggle memorizing the rights or freedom

I found
 
The right of freedom of speech, press, religion, peaceable assembly and requesting change of government
 
The right to bear arms (the right to own a gun though subject to certain regulations
 
The right to trial by jury in most cases
 
The people have  rights other than those mentioned in the Constitution

historylist

They Once Lived Here

They once lived here on Hudson River banks-
Lenape Indians of long ago.
Beneath our home may lie the underworld
of spirits that we know to come and go.

Our kids and friends held campfires down the hill,
and from the woods heard chants clear as can be.
An arrowhead was found and brought inside,
and from that day the spirits seemed most free.

For years we've seen the shadows down our hall
and darting figures rushing by each door;
a fan that starts to whirl with no switch turned;
lamp lights that dim at will on every floor.

Much time has passed since we had built our home-
the coffee maker still turns on at will.
The touch lamps glow and fade all by themselves;
computer icons move, do not stay still.

So many mornings, our computer screens
are fixed on 'guest' and not our email names,
just like some ghosts signed on and off all night-
these spirits are intent on playing games.

No harm has come to us, just puzzling times,
in never knowing why this came to be.
Perhaps a tribe once lived here long ago;
their roaming spirits, still alive and free.

September 12, 2016

~7th Place~
Contest Name: Give Me Goosebumps
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Judged: 12/21/2018

True story- based on the myths about these Indian spirits still roaming.
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"Newburgh, NY, is located on the west shore of the Hudson River on the lands of the Waoranek peoples described by the Europeans who first encountered them as a close-knit, loving, and peaceable group. The Waoranek was part of the Lenape tribe of the Algonquin nation. Around them, in the bay, were other related bands also part of the greater Lenape-Algonquin peoples."

mysterynative americansurrealrhyme

Happy New Year

Pleasantly pleasing providing peaceable
placating pacifists
a Happy New Year.

peacealliteration

Villanelle: the Dilemma of the Non-Violent - 57

Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 57

The use of force to protect the weak the hungry
A Zapata whose righteous anger boils bounds
To set right an injustice the peasant to free

Is that violence that must be put under key
Whose anger Madero’s peaceable laws confounds
The use of force to protect the weak the hungry

Had not Steinbeck’s Wrath in the Land of Plenty
Set free Mao and Castro’s masses from their hounds
To set right an injustice the peasant to free

Who came to Kazan’s rescue Mice and Men stand free
Hang honour Hang power Hang the world out of bounds
The use of force to protect the weak the hungry

In Steinbeck’s words Can a man whose thoughts born angry
Bring peace to a world where laws of peace obey hounds
To set right an injustice the peasant to free

Who kills not to feed whose young who cry when hungry
Yet Krishna urged Arjuna take battle field grounds
The use of force to protect the weak the hungry
To set right an injustice the peasant to free

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2015

freedompeacepoliticalpowerviolencevillanelle

To Masculinity

Some folks say that you’re toxic,
and destroying all the world.
Some folks say that you’re reckless,
and just want to feel up girls.
I think you’re like a fire,
a great tool in the right hands,
but able to turn quickly
and sear the foolish man.

Once upon a time we knew
what boys would be trained to be.
We taught them to wield the flame
that is masculinity.
Those who would do without it,
are brainless, spineless clods;
Life is not a therapy session,
it’s a fight against long odds!

To fight that fight without it
never ends all that well.
The vicious kill the peaceable types,
or corrupt them into their hell.
Without a strong mind standing
on lines drawn in the dirt,
we'd lose our lives or lose our souls
to the monsters of the Earth.

And let’s not forget the home life,
the one that we know best.
We’ve got young boys playing gangster,
or becoming men without chests.
Going hard to both extremes,
unaware of the middle path,
without the old code’s guidance,
they’re either lazy or full of wrath.

And men who once built things,
now sit home and get cash,
not ashamed at getting handouts,
their souls atrophy quite fast.
Other ‘men’ still make money,
spreading buzzwords, lies, and fear.
They feel no shame because honor
to them is dumb and weird.

So to you I am asking this,
though the softer types may squeal,
your presence is requested,
your fury, passion, zeal.
Your role here is important,
without you we cannot be.
I’ll teach my kids to now your name,
to know masculinity.

culturehow i feelmenrhyme

Hi, Dro

each thing living on
Murdth ‘sorbs water chiefly wet
backards of arid-
zona an’ the holmby hills’ 
chlorine romp ponds drawing the

scant as blue blood for
the thirsty altar as a
mercedes to the
mccam bridge carwash on
la cienega for the 

hundreds…each living
thing like coke water classic
from botswaniam 
pools It’s the real thing walking 
miles like dropdeadery girl

camels for a drink
sugary & refreshing
like rape…we miss the
nyc streetsweepers
for the bristletanks nosing

& hosing down street-
sleepers in the dross It’s a 
lawn time in the ‘burbs
between iced long island teas
cold as charity water 

from their potable 
portalets…to scorches of 
torrid pachyderms

...global conflict wars
for water not indeed
be in the solution!...   

elephant you say                                                                                                     tnaphele say I to
your circus mind say
is that your real nose bulbous
red like a churl beyond the

watering hole drunk 
frolic’d sunned an’ bathed with the 
peaceable kingdom 
not less than once have you been 
to thought fraught thirst to ‘nother

trunk?

                           H.e.m.-H’H.
                           12.15.MMxi.
                            ST

satirewaterwatertanka

Shalom To My Enemy

I sneak around my enemy’s encampment 
Like a fox surveying a coop
Upon my heart lies a heavy weight called revenge
Pressing ever the more upon my chest
Festered with boils of vindication 
To burst forth and spew retaliation owed
My mind in embedded in that darkened hole
Which only unreasonable righteous light may shine
For my lacerated heart is scared for life
No suture may ever begin healing mine
Unto my enemy I ensue my right
The ten-fold pain must begin
Hatred mingled with bitter persimmons  
I have forgotten the taste of sweet peace
Having hidden away any thoughts for forgiveness
My soul knows of no rest these horrid days
Enslave to my best desires for the darkness I wish to inflict
I have swept dirt under the rug far too long
Passive aggressive, I stand no more
I spring upon my enemy as toad to a fly
My moment of vengeance, the moment of truth
But I hesitate in mid-flight 
I can not do this
This is not the right
For my road to Heaven must pass through my enemy
And I whom profess the Christ must become the peacemaker called child of God
Thus peace is not everything sweet and tender
Nor does pain cease to be remembered
For the loving of people is not viewed as a peaceable kingdom 
Like a hunter and the hunted stayed apart
But to love my enemy and wish him well
The true peacemaker works towards all things good
To make the enemy a benefactor 
Is the view Christ had from Calvary’s cross
Shalom, my enemy

christianpeacereligiousfree verse

Good Riddance

Nobody is going to shed any tears for you.
This has been the last time and we are through.
I have tolerated your egregiousness for too long.
It is easy to see all along, you were wrong.

It seems since you have decided to roam,
I can at last attain a peaceable home.
The walls show the marks of your irascibility.
Impetuous actions have damaged indelibly.
How could you attempt to keep me on a shelf,
when you could not even control yourself?
It seemed like your abuse was going to last.
Thank God all your actions are now in the past.
My attempts to conciliate were to no avail.
I do not care if you rot in hell, or in jail.

angstfamilysadrhyme

Walk a Mile In Their Shoes

Without remorse, he told the tale
Of willful acts of poaching.
And I, his friend, had balled my fist,
Preparing to reproach him.
But he went on to describe the time;
Nine siblings of meager means,
With no father to supply them bread;
The meat had stretched the beans.

A blue-haired girl in studded jeans,
Piercings adorned her face.
I scoffed inside at this punked out girl
Who had set herself so out of place.
And yet her clothes were modest and clean,
And she carried her head aloft.
Her apparel screamed, “PLEASE, NOTICE ME!”.
But her spirit was mild and soft.

We live in a world with billions of souls;
Diverse and dynamic and vast.
We must yet find a way to get along
If a peaceable world is to last.
Yes, in judging the acts of our brothers,
I profess we react too fast.
For each sinner yet has a future . . .
And every saint has a past! *



* Oscar Wilde . . .    "Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future."

judgementrhyme

Best Peaceable Poems

Libra

Poem On Poetry

Prayer For Wisdom From God

Life's Struggles

Take It

Immigration and Naturalization

- The Butterflies Kingdom -

They Once Lived Here

Happy New Year

Villanelle: the Dilemma of the Non-Violent - 57

To Masculinity

Hi, Dro

Shalom To My Enemy

Good Riddance

Walk a Mile In Their Shoes

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