Best Placards Poems
How do I shed the label
of a white oppressive man
Do I listen to the message
of Obama's "Yes we can!"
Perhaps I'll go out marching
With women take to the streets
Hold placards of "Black Lives Matter"
While trying to feel their pained heart beats
Still I wonder should I feel guilty
for horrible things my race has done
Or would it not be better
If I instead loved everyone
My friends are many religions
Jewish, Muslim, Christian Too
I've conversed with Jehovah witnesses
if you are Sikh I can learn from you
I'm unconcerned with color
or the kind of clothes you wear
I'm more interested in your story
and the heart you're willing to share
Don't see me as an enemy
Just because my skin is white
Understanding will replace our fear
Conversations can make things right
No one wants to be looked at
through the lens of a clouded eye
If you and I are both willing
a different logic will apply
In the end we are brothers and sisters
there is but one human race
Each person wants a sense of belonging
It's up to us to create that space.
Entry for Debbie Guzzi's " What is White?" Contest
Charred in solace of your embrace
reminiscences engrossed as imprint
harboured in placards of your grace
A birth, a thousand with no squint
in winter's pure pour of snow
reminiscences engrossed as imprint
Giggling with nights glow
in waxes and treelights
in winter's pure pour of snow
One who ignites in delights
grining in fire and refuge
in waxes and treelights
A festivity of tunes and rouge
that twirls in vitality
grining in fire and refuge
Presents reciprocated in sib purity
charred in solace of your embrace
that twirls in vitality
harboured in placards of your grace
A Tree Falls
A tree falls.
No one calls 911,
offers aid
or comfort.
Homeless birds
hold placards
“will work for seed”.
A sapling sprouts.
Crickets camp
beneath it.
Stony shadows
keep time
in passing
sunshine.
©1/24/2018
submitted to – END JAN 2018 STANDARD CONTEST ANY FORM OR NONE
sponsor – Brian Strand
“It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt,
It lies behind stars and under hills,
And empty holes it fills,
It comes first and follows after,
Ends life, kills laughter.”
-J.R.R. Tolkien
_____________________________
Place of Redemption is Darkness
unpetalling - - solace space unfolding
I sail drowsy dim seas without boat
or oars, conversing with walrus, whales
treading liquid tar silent, unseen
in distance a dog barks as I empty
bladder into ocean
underwater cables run fire
Darkness, Cloak of Protection
alchemy distilling gross, grime, goo
a thousand fingers unfelt sew broken
pieces of Life, loosen hooks, nooses
Angels of Death appear, wings
midnight blue, gathering loose threads
snapped nerves, false cues
I hear a night ‘plane flying passion
Here Crow visits sea darkly shining
untouching cast charming spells with
silent cymbals, unscathed holds sound
I covet cup of cold black coffee, unsmelt
swarthy, spilling on night waters —
hiding eels, oysters find their feeds
blankets have no feel, weave
unraveling, I perceive spindles
Coelacanth swim inquisitive incognito
individuated spirits shine poking
examine my tired flesh, as velvet
phantoms we attune to F o r e v e r
black cat runs sky, corrugated quarks
shatter moon smiles, its rock tumbling
rays on rippling nipples, navel upturned
circles spiral gene keys like piano notes
Place of Attunement is Darkness
no stagnation or pothole sidles, earthling placards, test tubes or empathy labels
shimmering umbra behind stars fall
dust upon midnight water smooth
gloom to-fro about unpaid karma
prison cell was scribbled with charcoal
I shout my name, nobody hears or cares
Humming, droning, buzzing black
holes beckon like blackboards with
light language — I recognise Cosmic
sound activating Heart, fall deeper into
b l a c k o u t __>>>
alpha kisses omega as breath leaves
returning in baby gurgles upon a
Bermuda Triangle ~ dog sniffs backyard
Darkness ignites laughter untasted
observing I pay Tolkien tribute, tinkling
___________________________________
GOLD Placement Poem : Allpoetry
May 26 : Prompt :
What may you find in Darkness |
Confirm no AI
Third Placement: Premier
Sponsor : Seth Pina : May : Your Favourite
One Against Many
Where a man has a principle,
and a bug in his head
Forms a view that no matter what,
won’t go away
His heart will control
every thought, every thread
He’ll not veer from his stand,
by night nor by day
He will face up to those,
he believes to be wrong
He will speak from his corner
and wave placards
Stand there his ground,
ever straight, ever strong
Opposing the tyrants,
their ways and their guards
When the furies are gathered
to break like a storm
He will parry and fend
every threat that is thrown
His mind will not bend
by the weight of the scorn
But remember the giant
brought down by a stone
With no aim to destruct
or words to impose
Just a flame in the darkness
to shine there a light
Deep from the depths
where confusions shadows
May release, rise and soar
newly imagined flight
When the voice fades away,
to deaths calling of time
The actions are measured,
of those now set free
Who forged an alliance,
stood there in line
To judge by the means,
of hypocrisy
To the memory of Brian Haw
At the national picket of the unhappy
I see large crooked coins
Hoisted like placards above the irate crowd.
On the first face, I see immigrants & owls embossed,
And on the second, snakes & neighbors.
It's the coin they toss
To divine the wellspring of troubles
That every day beset this broken nation.
It turns at every toss to land first face up
When crime is up and jobs down.
The oracle, I know, holds the second face in reserve
To deploy on that day to come
When the homeland is rid of strange hairs and noses
But crime is still up and about
And jobs still down and out.
Yes, when immigrants are gone it'll be neighbors in the dock
Taking blame for all national ills.
History will stand witness
As the whips and stones that now descend on immigrants
To break their bones and spirit
Give way to tanks and missiles
Sent forth to break bone and spirit
Across the trampled borders
To the east, west, and south
Previously crossed by immigrants
But now crossed by armies.
Wisdom beckons to the clueless right
But her call they will not heed.
With glee they hasten to their likes across the border,
Carrying their precious coins in tow
With which they purchase glib excuses
To explain away all national failure.
How little they know that when their deed is done
And all immigrants gone
We'll be back to war, war, war
As of yore,
When the homeland had not strange hairs and noses
To take away from neighbors the blame for national ills.
Francis Scott Key:
“O say, does that Star - Spangled Banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?”
The Answer:
Yes, Mr. Key, the Star - Spangled Banner still waves
Over that magical land expansive oceans away.
True, its residents are as free as after McHenry
And have remained foes of the tyranny’s sway.
The banner is no longer half-concealed and half-exposed
But hoisted on the tallest mountains and upon the moon,
And from the eastern portion of the virgin world
The Star - Spangled Banner can be seen by the sage and the loon.
Ask the enemy of the peace and the lover of concord
And they’ll admit the starry banner still dances in the wind,
The Star-Spangled Flag is still the undisputed king
Among the white-complexioned and the dark-skinned.
The mongers of fear and terror will at least admit
That the stripes and the stars still tower higher
Above disease and the despot’s egocentric desire,
And still stirs the abhorrence of the mischievous liar.
The Star-Spangled Banner, Mr. Francis Key,
Remains true to the welcome of the New Colossus.
The huddled masses continue to breathe free
And the torch is still held at the golden door.
The Star-Spangled Banner yet waves
Above the dark-hued placards of knaves,
The shiny stars light the paths of the unfortunate
And the stripes still choke the voice of hate.
The Star - Spangled Banner still waves
Over the maneuvers of those in bloody caves,
And the masters of wizened religious gripes
Still do feel the heat of the gallant stripes.
Oh, Mr. Key, the stars and the stripes do rule the earth
And inspire those that pursue the satisfactions of genuine mirth,
The stripes yet rekindle hope and the stars light the darkest nooks
That hitherto shadowed the shenanigans of megalomaniacal crooks.
Ask no more, dear Mr. Francis Key,
For that land still belongs to the free,
And the stars and the stripes yet wave
Over that tranquil territory of the brave.
Created a little ditty about hypocrites and
double standards, racists with drawing boards.
Media dinners with dubious
double meaning placards.
The Spade of hearts.
The Jack of Swords.
An adversity of diversity,
assorted stuff for their hating,
tarot cards,
racial fits in the music awards,
and a grammy for
"sex in the city."
Man who is that dude on the Grammy, Satan?
Jean Luc Picard with Baphomet itties?
Idols for idols, adverts with priority
misplacement, Universal standard.
Mesmerized tazement,
enter lame-ment.
Amazement for sheep enslavement under
black candles.
As the hypnotizing blow is more than
a psyops experiment.
But here we go,
gonna run at it hard while I vent-so.
Everyday I listen to the same old thing
Tune in to VH1 or Mtv, see what I mean
Only degradation gets attention, is it ADD?
No, they know the words, they are listening intently.
With a mother****** this and a dead *****dat. Posthumously-
Gangland in the home with a baseball bat.
Un-Just like liberal Congress across the nativity scene.
Is it positive reinforcement?
Or New World Laws Enforcement.
Fasting for lent?
Come get your sisting y'all.
Come and get bent!
In genre hostage making,
30 year experiment?
Yo Mtv raps, yeah I get it
(about murder $$y & pot leaf sense)
I guess when the airwaves got a monopoly
from the Lord of the Air and GoogleBerg
Hall Monitors.
Not the Right, but the wrong
afraid of debate, running away, running with impunity, running with devil- the PMRC, the CDC ,FCC,
FEMA and Columbia University.
Now you want to talk about Satan,
check the connection between Crowley and JayZ.
On how you get chicks for free
and money for nothin, nothin but devil worshipping,
special sales from wolves making sheep
clothing and accessories.
Accessories to many of the things you see.
In the biblical account in the story about the Good Samaritan, we notice that he did not make a showy display about what he had done. He took care of the wounds of the man who was badly beaten, and even left money to care for him until he got well. He simply performed a good deed.
I know of a young professional who does good deeds to both animals and humans alike. She has sponsored children in other countries as well as in the US. Just cry out -old or young, and like Dorcas (another Bible character), she responds.
Individuals standing with cups or holding up placards are not ignored either.
She recently completed the wishes of her grandmother, who told her about her assets; and having confidence that things would go smoothly, waited until she heard this granddaughter’s voice before drawing her last breath.
The grandmother dearly loved her family, especially the grandchildren and great grandchildren. She made sure that all were present for her grandmother’s funeral and assisted with the coordination of events.
What picture could one paint of a Good Samaritan?
Qualified as being reliable, dependable, loyal to a cause.
Trustworthy with caring No matter who it is,
Assisting and saving a life if possible.
Whether someone is sick, just laying listless by the wayside,
In crisis by an earth, hurricane, tornado or tsunami. The Samaritan thus responds, prompted by the will for doing only good.
What a privilege it is to be called “Good Samaritan”,
Or hear God’s “Well done my faithful servant”,
For feelings, response and deep concern,
Are like the Stranger in the Bible who did not look the other way.
Contest: The Good Samaritan
Enter Contest
Poetry Contest Deadline: Thursday, December 14, 2017
Sponsored by: Craig Hawkins
Trade tired trust
Ripe remains rust
Aim apt align
Pure pleasure pines
Troubles toss treat
Reach random rest
Asking attests
Pause plunders pit
Teach treatment tales
Rest rowdy rail
Ask approves ale
Paint placards pale
Thrill tales telling
Ride rich rankings
Apply apt aid
Playthings ply paid
Tribe teachings test
Ripe ramblings rest
Amend artwork
Plenty prompts perks
Trip takes true times
Rouse remote rhymes
After aids abstract
Ploy provides pact
Trouble times trap
Rich readings rap
Amuse attend
Play plus pretend
Leon Enriquez
15 May 2014
Singapore
Welcome sports fans to the Twenty Sixteen Presidential Race,
Spring Training is full upon us as the candidates align.
Two strong teams build their ranks for the coming season,
determination and earnest intent electrify the stadium air.
Rookies run ‘round the field in fresh unsoiled uniform,
energetically casting balls about in new mown green grass.
Pros stride their bases in condescending confidence,
swinging freshly tarred bats with vicious strokes intent.
Umpires roam about the field enforcing rules of conduct,
giving guidance and clarity to calls on the field of play.
Sportscasters view and rank, in statistic, with hungry eye;
great enthusiasm erupts at dropped ball and stolen base.
Coach’s posture in offered encouragement to their team,
knowing clearly the strength and weakness held afield.
The masses buy the tickets that fuel the sporting fires,
pouring dollars into team coffers to support the dream.
Hear them chant and respond to prompt, alike in program,
see the placards of message held high in confident display.
Teams tour the lands honing their competitive skills,
watch as the weak fade and are culled from the herd.
See the superstars stand and strike the ball out of the park,
running bases to cheers of the growing, maddening crowd.
Points are scored, wins are accolades of coming success,
Presidential Spring Training is but a short lived campaign,
The true grand season political will begin in earnest soon,
rise and select your team, buy your ticket, the game is on.
Robert Gene Stoner Jr ©
3/3/16
I am a simple middle aged common man,
I have some simple dreams,
I don’t care about your India shining,
Nor I care about your million dollar deals,
I wish a safe country for my daughter,
A life filled with love and peace,
I wish a country free of rapists,
And a street without moral police.
I want a change in society,
Where she won’t be judged by her clothes,
Where she can have boy friends,
Or do whatever she chose.
There is no point holding placards,
And mourn on things that can be avoided,
‘Coz they are useless for a father,
Whose loving child is already dead.
You will fight over religions,
And will play dirty politics,
While I’ll only have sweet sad memories,
Of the victim and the culprits.
I sincerely wish for a country,
Where my girl can follow her will,
Where she is treated like a human,
And not an object to rape and kill….
Date:09/07/2018
Seven Post-its,
a constellation not unlike the Big Dipper
guide travelers through a deskscape
of escarpments and promontories.
Out beyond the half eaten sandwich
dotting the horizon
are The Spires of Mountain Dew,
monuments of deadlines never met.
Rumor has it that beneath
a sedimentary strata of folders
and never-read reports
are Fed-X artifacts
and a 1990 desk calendar.
Four Post-its,
yellow green fuchsia and pink
like Burma Shave placards,
line the bookcase less traveled.
“Fix car”
“Pay bills”
“Workout”
“Orlando”
In a screen-saver sky
biplanes aimlessly fly
back and forth
back and forth
back and forth.
I quit
I throw my hands down
and sit, sometimes
they called for reconciliation without
justice
They called for justice without
truth
Now they ask for prayer without
confession, umpteenth,
it chafes
Has dishonesty made you inadequate
to let go the desecration
infringement
negligence
graft
shame of these violations
which bake violence?
Yet another fifth year
our memo calls us to speak
See how they dance
under a canopy of placards
and a forest of words,
a crescendo of noise,
call for peace without unity
hunger hugs not a belching belly
wretchedness forever at
enmity with riches
Fellow man,
the weight been
long and heavy
Le band's gang led
they have a dance,
You got a date, a dicot
conscience, chagrin
It's about time you made
love to your country!
Take a big deep
cast your ballot for
broken toe nails
parched throats
unattended sick
the illiterate
the young dead
wrinkled bellies
and running stomachs
Bow not unto any creed,
tongue, but go forth
eyes closed
and spit into the storm
Puaaah!
at war,
-i could still hear our tired feet passed this plain,
wind chills our bodies soaked at early dawn rain-
i sat at the side, eager to absorbed, all what I heared from my old man's tale
cold breeze breath and made us shivered,
as if a ghost from the past, sat in
under the acacia, as if it was ready to hear the pain-
"we are at war, nineteen eighty nine, and in the late seventies
most of the boys lost their lives, including mine,
that, i was long gone with them,
I don't understand.
at peace,
-inside a small house, we call' a war room'
my old man were dead few years back,
we talked about politics, it could be a new walk
can you walk with us? they asked, eagerly
though I'm skeptic, i nod-
we went out on the streets, after few hours dancing
in the air, sat on the side, placards lay on my tired hand
throwed a long glimpse toward the sky
i think rain come tonight,
one of us, positively uttered.
we look at him, and all eyes raised up towards the gathering
of the moonson clouds,
still i don't understand.