Best Pillaged Poems
We the People
Will disagree
On taxation and prosperity
On liberty and duty
We the People
Are every color of Christianity
Every Jewish prayer, every song of Islam
The puritans, the atheists and the Amish
Are neighbors here
We the People
Are Jamaican and Japanese
Swedish and Samoan
Cuban and Cherokee
Moroccan and Mexican
The Irish and the Inuit
And all shades of Africa
We are country hills and cityscapes
Suburban parks and downtown fire escapes
We are singers and stutterers
Daredevils and diplomats
Renegades and redeemers
The leaders and the lone wolves
The suits and the sarongs
We are the gun owners for gun control
The justice for unjust loopholes
We are the hands that struck the iron
And the backs that laid the tracks
Of trails of rails connecting
Sea to shining Sea
We are protesters and poets
The soldiers without peace
The nurses without sleep
We are the straight arrows and the skeptics
The gay and the god-fearing
We are Black Lives Matter
And we are the badges in blue
We the People
Are complicit and complicated
No freedom gave
To chains of slaves
We have conquered and colonized
Sacrificed and stolen
Pillaged and planted
To naturalize a nation
We are teachers of tenacity
Prophicies of pioneers
And the children of second chances
We the People
Speak for our land’s legacy
In every tongue, from every rung
On each stumbled stair, each crumbled chair
We demand democracy.
8/21/20
Poem of the Day
August 23, 2020
Categories:
pillaged, discrimination, freedom, history, society,
Form:
Political Verse
you read out of obligation
a tit for tat consolation
a "thank you for your visit" affirmation
it's cool, this unspoken rule
I do it too, so what’s new?
It's only being civil
community code of camaraderie
who can break free?
It needs to be done
loyalties need to be won
so do the comment hit and run
then on to another one
I appreciate that, truth be told
this give and take system should hold
on poetic pleasantries, I am sold
“Reciprocity” is gold
oh, but that's not quite same
as being sure that you came
because I'm a favorite name
in your poet hall of fame
Come goaded by greed
Needing each word for your feed
Voyeuristic as I bleed
You need my pain to be freed
Come craving my rhyme fix
The potency of this mix
My poetic party tricks
Lines that give you the kicks
I'm a poet pillaged by pain
who's been baptized by rain
holding on to the sane
let me battle your bane
Read me for you know
You need me to grow
Dip in the stream of this flow
Words above, words below
Read and blaze in the fire
word kindling of your desire
let these flames take you higher
as they make each thought perspire
Obligation is overrated
Though my words might be dated
the ideas? NOT antiquated
to existence they’re related
Come visit me
Come here so you’ll see
Passion infused poetry
let it meld you and me
Eileen Manassian
Categories:
pillaged, community, poetess, poetry,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
What is it that our
vaunted intellect supposedly conveys?
That benefits the air and sea,
summits, life and
broad expanse of land?
Now
Suppose that we
at some stark moment
vanished one and all—
adjoined by all
matter and assemblage from
our forced and plundered reign?
In absence then of everything
we pillaged and proclaimed
would air be rent
by thunderous noise
of mighty rivers
returning to their courses.
Resumed the growth of forests,
near vanished and forlorn,
and healed all the
wounds and scars
that marred
Earth's sacred skin.
Then floating in the
cold and barren void,
this supernal sapphire jewel:
eternal haven of
innocence and peace.
We would not be missed.
Categories:
pillaged, peace,
Form:
Free verse
My strides left shallow imprints 'pon a sandy shore
Gulls cried out in alarm and swarmed cornflower skies
My thoughts turned to Avalon of King Arthur's lore
while dawn broke as an amber yoke in morn's sunrise
I shielded my eyes from the sea's shimmering waves
sauntering restlessly with a sorrowful soul
mourning my aggrieved heart, a heart that love enslaves
My grief spills in the shallows of this rocky shoal
Salty breeze, please chase away my tears of despair
Tell me how to heal or in anguish I shall die
Wounded by pillaged love, my emotions laid bare
I walk this shore, begging my ache to mollify
My footprints 'pon the sand and hope submerged in doubt
I plead for a flood of faith to end passion's drought
October 1, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 15
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Categories:
pillaged, lost love,
Form:
Sonnet
A Matt Calliri Contest: Are You A Mouse or A Mountain
18 June 24
--------
Comes the morning fog
sprawling on my territory where northern glens dry from rotten stubble and mess of debris... damp damp.
Above, waterfalls tumble with litter,
splinters of broken glass flushing
ashed moisture 'round lakes: how truant seasons' passages rip this my velvety robe...
I recoil to whisper Am I growing older than I should?
Along my tired arms, maples which once stood guard now unbutton pistil and stamen of flowers, pillaged by unwanted ravens.
Sunray breaks... these dim eyes watch how moss of layered mist covers my earthen soil wasted along paths of disheveled rocks.
Under my keep,
wrestling with predators bear wounds, scars this
body tries to heal.
My voice trembles to speak, Men-holes, do you come from a heritage of thieves, of beasts?
No one answers : like so, I trace my own life-stretch , reflecting on the snuff of earth's glory.
Down my mottled chest, I fondle the awakening of infant grass --all plump and fertile --
A promise within the cavity of time...that an intercepted light of next interlude could rise,
where man and my nature- self greet,
not until not until...
Categories:
pillaged, feelings, mountains,
Form:
Narrative
I heard echoes of scurrilous snarls,
from my conscience as it spoke
contemptible remarks aimed at me.
What shame those words delivered.
"Fatuous one, why does your hand quiver,
mimicking the trembling lips of a child in fear?
You dare call yourself a poet,
but you're nothing more than a joke."
Guilt is the culprit that tunnels my mind
as my passion for poetry shrivels on its vine.
Withering like a flower, my empty heart
has stripped my soul of its craving to write.
It's my own foolish notion
that causes me to shiver.
I weep over my planted seedlings.
They thirst, and their mournful cries I hear.
Abandoned by their mother who begot them,
and for this I'm filled with remorse and regret.
That mocking voice invaded my aching breast,
when again, it ridiculed me as a fool...
"A self-proclaimed bard who gives up the task.
You should put down the quill and live in disgrace."
There is no saving grace for me.
No nourishment for my verses to thrive.
My heart is broken, drowning in memories.
Without the will to live, how will it survive?
It only drums in rhythm to keep me alive.
Rows of sprouted thoughts have withered.
Parched and dying, drying up in a field of grief.
While I, their neglectful sower, helplessly sit
as time elapses and I watch them expire.
I’ve fallen between the gaps of missing lines
into an abyss, my fingers charred in a fire.
I can only water the seeds of self doubt
with salty sweat from my furrowed brow
and over fertilize them with tears of frustration.
I do not seek salvation or redemption.
Damnation will out.
My ink well of impetus has sprung a leak
or maybe it's a new watering hole I seek.
I have not a drop to quench their thirst
no morning dew, nor afternoon shower
to give my wilting buds reprieve, a relief.
I've tried to save them all, or was it just
a half-hearted attempt made in vain?
Not one more rhyme can I rescue from pain.
I'm suffering from loss. All hope is gone.
My fear is that I cannot express myself
in what was once an emotional voice.
No wonder my pages remain barren and blank,
except for the blotches of spilled ink.
My parchment lies in a state of immortal decay.
I relinquish my quill to a better hand than mine,
setting it free and praying that I be forgiven.
For the folly, I've only myself to blame,
this pillaged poet.
Categories:
pillaged, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
She curled her tail around her toes,
Covering whiskers, chin and nose.
An ear twitch here, another there;
She claimed as hers the easy chair.
Tormentor of both mole and mouse,
She spent the summer out of house.
Plundered, pillaged, night and day,
No mercy for dim witted prey.
Summer passed and then the fall,
As bitter cold left wintery pall.
The feline wanted none of that;
Once more she posed as family cat.
She lay about each day and night:
Purred when stroked and feigned delight.
Her bowl, her chair and toilet place,
Were all she claimed as sovereign space.
The season wore on long and cold.
Outside most life seemed put on hold.
The feline lay there still as dead,
Entombed within her winter bed.
Come now the spring with days of fair;
The old cat stretched within her chair.
A well placed nose near open sill;
She felt the much diminished chill.
Then rushed to door that still was closed.
Cries from her pleading throat arose.
Weaving through her mistress legs;
"Let me out," brash feline begged.
As chipmunk fed in hemlock crotch,
Unfettered cat dashed off the porch.
With one quick scramble up the tree;
A winter cat she ceased to be.
Do we not marvel at her grace,
Ere all those months confined in place?
The cat resumes with guileless ease,
Her summer reign of fields and trees.
Categories:
pillaged, animal, cat, nature, pets,
Form:
Narrative
A pursuer at an precocious age,
Instantly able to set the stage.
Unaware of the glare from a piercing stare,
Calculated thoughts and moments planned; the prey would be snared.
Indulging in oratory flights of beautiful language,
Enticed by a venomous tongue the prey languished.
Striking the first note of genuine eloquence,
The Huntress pillaged without rendering an element of forbearance.
The impending execution of the venom ignited an explosion,
That there was an instant expulsion.
From the impending death,
The prey took a long deep breath.
The craving of the Huntress had grown,
The prey subsided with a shuddering moan.
Towered by the Huntress’s shadowing eclipse,
Impetuous feeling the softness of her kiss.
@ Tunisia Torres
2/3/2009
Categories:
pillaged, fantasy, passion
Form:
Epyllion
The artwork shows a
female gymnast balancing on a pile of rubble
on the side of a building damaged by Russian strikes
The graffiti artist posted three images
the piece Friday on social media,
with a simple caption reading "Borodyanka, Ukraine,"
using an alternative spelling for the town's name
Speculation had been mounting that
Banksy was in the war-torn country after a series of murals
appeared in Borodianka, located about 35 miles northwest of the capital, Kyiv
The town came back into Ukrainian control on April 1
returning residents found their houses ransacked and shops pillaged with windows broken and contents stolen
The letter "V" a symbol used by Russia's Eastern Military district in concert with the letter "Z" an emblem for Moscow's so-called "special military operation" was found painted on buildings, vehicles and checkpoints
Who's Banksy? Clues about the mysterious artist!
Slippery, provocative, mysterious Banksy, the British artist
whose identity is still unknown,
is considered one of the main contemporary street art icons
His art, many times satirical,
address universal issues such as politics,
culture or ethics
In the center of Los Angeles, an "unauthorized" Banksy’s exhibition,
dedicated to the enigmatic artist,
lets visitors dive into the controversial artistic universe
of the most influential creator of present time
Categories:
pillaged, art,
Form:
Free verse
I walk the lane 'neath giant oaks,
vast canopies of green,
and view the mansion at path's end,
a sight I've never seen.
My mind begins to picture
those precious days of old,
the owner of this grand house
with history yet foretold.
Of Southern Belles in ball gowns,
young men in dapper dress,
music of the harpsichord
as folks poseur their best.
Dancing, singing, merriment
revere lives without care
as servants carry laden trays
of fancy food and fare.
But all the glories of this time
were soon to be forgot
with civil war uprisings,
and horrors that men wrought.
Land was scourged, mansions burned,
or plundered of their ware,
soldiers stripped the wealth from them
and pillaged without care.
"The black man needs his freedom,"
was the battle cry,
and thousands chose to take a side
for which they'd surely die.
Brother fought 'gainst brother,
father against son,
I wonder if they felt for naught
when the war was done.
Now standing 'neath the foliage
at this mansion tall and grand,
I question, "Was it worth it,
for them to take a stand?"
Guess we'll never know the answer,
today it seems too late,
but let us long remember
what happens when men hate.
Categories:
pillaged, history, nostalgia, people, men,
Form:
Rhyme
Unveiling of the righteous King has come.
To bring a peace upon the ravaged land.
A war was fought, the loser did succumb.
The soldiers now are just, by King's command.
A Prince of evil tried to claim his realm,
And tethered people to a hopeless place.
With blade from sword and chains to overwhelm.
He stole and pillaged all without disgrace.
A brother older strode to their defense.
From ancient land to where a prison held.
He paid a ransom held at great expense,
And slayed the tyrant Prince his anger quelled.
The throne he lusted for the Prince had claimed.
Brought anger forth from rightful King he blamed.
contest The Deadly Seven
1/20/16
Categories:
pillaged, poetry,
Form:
Sonnet
"The Saudade Receiving"
Alate
Epiphany
God is a Child
Innocent
Protected
Untouched
Reverent
Purity
Pillaged
Hurt Heart
Broken Trust
Angered
All forgiving
Guarding
Children
of Parents
of Children
Saudade
Light
Love
Us
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
LUX VITAE
Christmas 2020
Matthew 18:1-3
3 John 1:4
432hz - Carbon Based Lifeforms
https://youtu.be/d1a8BTt0-wM
adj. Alate
Saudade
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saudade
432hz
https://attunedvibrations.com/432hz-healing/
Categories:
pillaged, children, faith, humanity, i
Form:
Free verse
Death lingers
Not in an essence, or scent-
No spectral aura conjured by tears or laughter,
But through wishes left too late and unspoken
Guesses made in blue ink, seal stamped, and filed.
Your legacy pillaged and raped by suited men
'til it's extorted to to pennies.
Your smile and voice are buried in the stacks.
Documents, bills, and letters to be written
Fill the memory baring your name;
Your scent and laughter long gone.
Given choice, I would pick the lowest memory
Over the reality of perpetual argument and stress.
Perhaps it's better to have left only love.
Categories:
pillaged, death, introspection, missing you,
Form:
Free verse
There once was a ship,
full of chickens at sea.
They plundered and pillaged,
quite ferociously.
They sat on their perch,
with their ivory white sails.
They were led by a wolf,
with a chicken suit for a veil.
As their numbers declined,
they soon began to see.
He wasn't like the rest,
they could see his big sharp teeth.
One by one they jumped ship,
then the wolf was alone.
With his chickens all gone,
he trolled on back home.
Categories:
pillaged, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Our love continued to grow as the warm gaze of summer came forth, shinning light on the skeletons we’d became, bodies ravaged from the merciless vulture that was and is the winter. No rays from the sunlight, so brilliant they hurt my eyes, could provide the warmth her love provided. The bones that tried to cut through my skin were the love-marks of our late night romps, the constant light-headedness I took for euphoric ecstasy, was really my body dying.
In the dawning light of the summer…I began to see what I had become. What both she and I had done. I was no longer a girl, I was no longer a human being. I was a breath of bones, so thin you had to squint one eye and shut the other to notice me. “What have I done?” I screamed to myself as I stared at what use to be a body in the length of a one-way mirror. She came to me then, tried to tempt me back into her arms, but I no longer saw the beauty in her skeletal form. I could only see how her love had raped and pillaged me. And so I turned her away and said goodbye…
Categories:
pillaged, body, death, depression, metaphor,
Form:
Personification