Best Pride Poems | Poetry
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New Pride Poems
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Three Lions lost with Pride restored
by Flaherty, Christopher
by Trifiatis, Demetrios
by onclaud, nette
Why Did I Crush Her Pride and Dignity
by sensele, john
by Mendoza, Jacqueline R.
I SHALL TAKE PRIDE IN MEDALLION STRENGTH
by ALLISON, JAN
My School My Pride
by Bunglowala, Arifa
On Pride A Fat Cat Sat
by sensele, john
The White Devil's Pride
by Cullen, Alex
by Rogers BLK PANTHER, VAL BROOKLYN
View all new Pride Poems
The Best Pride Poems
When the crimson rose has faded
And our day at last is done;
In the forest dark and shaded
Blows the tempest, dims the sun.
When the night holds us together
Shall forgiveness mend the past
Will despair bring sunny weather
And heal our hearts at last?
If we hide within the shadows
Will you stay here close to me;
Will we walk forgotten meadows
Or sail a foreign sea?
In vain the hour must reap
What we gathered in the sun;
And love's harvest now will weep
For the battle never won.
Within the world's disgrace
In the hour of Nevermore;
Will there be another race
To a far-off fabled shore?
We promised love tomorrow
We preen with pride today
Now pride and love will borrow
The tears of yesterday.
Our pride we now confess it
Is a sin that couldn't last;
Our passion if we kiss it
Is like a dream now passed.
While fragrance scents the garden
And the misty moon rides high;
The wind whispers a pardon
When love goes passing by.
Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012
Introducing: Nate & Linda
The smile on my lips
is forced and coerced
I pretend to pay attention
give the best possible advice
everyone praises me
I'm so kind, polite and nice
It's all just automation
I rarely actually listen
certainly don't care
all I'm doing
is playing human
I'm so perfectly hidden
you'll never even
see a curtain,
from where I stand
Majoring in social events
Put on a pedestal
for computing with you
I'm so perfectly hidden
smiling from time to time
with all sincerity
Passing along an appeal
continuing to fit in
Is it just me or
am I the perfect human?
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015
A diamond in the Frost ... I am Emily, gazing through the years,
Like Poe from rancid taste and dark smoke shadows
Florescent waste escaping a decrepit yet dulcet wilderness
Backward capabilities frontal verse, I am her the almighty universe
Ascending from yesterday's fall, literally and visibly
Swore to be everything you loathe most - a felicity of illusions
You will dream of me, a parasite you can't get rid of
Ripped open by paper and pen, rising to a new destination
A Destroyer begging to be free in search of a tender rhapsody
Blind by mediocre poets who tend a false nebulous star
No longer, will I impart into defeat - give in to trophy trust
The time of age, my allies whom I call my friends
You are more than words on any God-Given-Day
To those unworthy of me, can march away from my parade
Crying wolves, backstabbing clones, long gone stones
Each file is forgiven & forgotten, however, still trespassing
Under a microscope, some remain to be a decade of lost words
Grazing a forest grown for old news dripping water on my belly
No matter, after starvation, I found my way back to the same horizon
Finding time and space among a new docile nation
A buried treasure finding face among a fresh myriad generation
With anchors up, I'm headed full force, against every secret endorsed
I am the one you should not fear, I relish this wonderful community
I am she mounted above all years worn rising like a newborn sword
Forged by the earth summon by the pirate's moon political creed
Ascending to a sweet ascension with the best kind of immunity
With paper and pen, I sit to please and prosper my poetry need
To you I leave --- Echoes of snow, numbing you with a poetic soul
Love The Poet Destroyer
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015
The First Texian Macabre Arena Ballad (The extended free-fallen edition)
In another life, is where I first saw your face!
One summer afternoon, lying wounded next to the dead
Unopened gun powder, mass destruction, a land of disgrace
A blood thirst battlefield is where I first saw your face
The sound of war, hidden behind bleeding hands
Crawlers, render their lives giving grace
Jaws of steel, broken, embracing, warm feelings
Summer rain, lungs filled with blood, one last post
Glorious by numbers, screaming blades
Gemstone in touch with the Holy Ghost
Soldiers come in a little close
Crawling, missing limbs,
Twisted nightmare with no ending
Macabre reminder, retracing the aroma of eternal life
Secrets buried like a treasure under walls of sudden death
Revolutionary tears found on a rusted Bowie knife
Lanterns, crackling against the dying wind
Dirt piles of crushed windpipes -- sudden death
Rummage like garbage, the dead Texian
A Falling Alamo Star, taking one last twinkle upon the sky
Forgotten Patriots, I can't remember the names
Written on walls, I can't remember the names
A folktale arena is where I first saw your face
Fairness of stuttered surrender slicing through iron brace
Crawling, with the hunger to live, a clean finish with grace
Exposing, scars needing mother's hands, mothers face
Across infested meadows, the aroma of burning skin
Distant, before Texas and her annexation,
Gruesome, before I lived, Texas and her mortal sin
I pledge, my love, the honor, a legion, I'm a full blown Texian
To Every Forgotten Texian Patriot----- We Win!
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014
With Divining Heart I Could Have Foreseen
With true divining heart I could have seen
little ripples of thy deep discontent.
My heart a meadow, once lush and bright green
now aching from lost days so sadly spent.
If thy heart sought the truth instead of lies
thee would have held, fast and firm loving vows.
These tears would not splash down from dark skies
as I seek anew, fertile fields to plow.
Blame I, ignorance of deception's wiles
trusting in our dear love and happy bliss.
Pray I, for miracle that reconciles
this distance, preventing thy soft-lips kiss.
With divining heart I could have foreseen
how thy lost heart would fail us, sweet Colleen.
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Words: 108
Note: My ignorance of a friend and his lies once cost me ever so dearly.
Lesson learned in youth, sad but one I suspect a great many others may have learned as well.
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017
Hearts do fall in life
Burst into storms of ardour
Drift against anchor.
Confine your heart to reason
When not ready for the tide.
Copyright © Besma Riabi Dziri | Year Posted 2018
Modest woman moderate woman
Your inner beauty strikes me
Like the tongue of noble eloquence
More than gold even refined gold
Or our purged fulgent silver.
Black woman proud woman
Your pride is not haughty
But a humble pride of eaglets;
Your black eyes are so glittering
As the eyes of our dark rivers
Filled with messages of peace
That banish the broody turmoil
From those panting hearts
Of your foreigned offsprings.
Gentle mother diligent mother
Your kindness kindles the fires
Of my heart –
Your dexterity dresses
The table of our ageless history
And the thought of your being
– Oh kind mother! –
Makes the most delicious menu
For my heart.
I remember your naked feet
Fast and fair as a pigeon’s limbs
Treading the invisible paths
Almost covered by shrubs
Small shrubs misted by the prime mist.
I remember the wood from the wood
The water from the water
And manifold items from jungle alleys
Borne by your delicate hands
And upon your soft black-haired head.
I remember the constant match
To markets and to farms
And your bright face smeared with
The ash dust
Making you more beautiful
Than any woman whose feet
Ever touched the naked earth.
I remember those burdens
Upon your cheerful kin-souls
And babies strapped to your backs
Babes full of unspoken words
To unborn others in patient wombs
Waiting in an endless turn –
Indeed, mother is dove!
A black dove and a dark huntress
A hunter’s gift from the maker?
Mother is like a weaver-bird
Building a big foot-like nest
Filled with corn and warmth
A bundle of eagle-flight
Mother is dove
And the hunter calls her
The clan’s eternal dove.
Oh, mother loving woman
Gentle as our black horizon
To you we humbly come
From these far and lonely lands
Hoping to grace our love and beauty
Before that jealous grave
Makes her temporary feast.
Copyright © Canny Amah | Year Posted 2009
Bright yellow sparks glisten around the landscape
Sheer environment expose
Warmth slinks down every step
Spur like rays muster in long light
The wolves wait to howl
Soon--Bunch of flowers
Huddle in with sunlit love
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
-This buds for you!-
-It takes one to know one!-
-I know you are, but what am I?-
A second hand, on my stopwatch, going nowhere!
You are a joker, a smoker, a midnight stroker
<-------How, about that, Steve Miller song
I'm not here to talk about the way you comment a poem
That's not how I roll, now listen, and listen well,
I don't care, about them words you speak
A whining sheep, every time you don't score
Crying behind close doors,
Boo-Who, I did not place high in so-and-so's contest
Gosh&dammit, not everyone's on a quest
Blogging, about the day, your poem got demoted to nonsense
Trying to comment relentlessly,
You can't top, a mountain that has no setup
I'd rather leave a copy paste comment,
"than being fake as fake can be"
At least, my copy paste was a song,
in which welcome the new poets on
Treating, everyone with love and security
Your invites, are cold and force, to you it's not about community
No motion, to your notion, simple, and disgusting
I don't know why you think, we are competing,
Long ago, I left you bleeding, no reason to be defeating
Your paranoia, has you thinking, it's all about the points,
It's getting old and boring,
You cry babies are nothing more than jokes and hypocrites
Hey you, this ain't dominoes, we done pass every Jo-Jo
When, I have time I sit here for fun, my trigger finger on the gun
Reading, commenting, until my day is done
You think, because someone, left a copy paste
That your poem was not read,
Perhaps, it was not understood, or enjoyed
Or, a welcome to the neighborhood
A nice smile, from me to you
Nice poem, You Rock!
So What! ---- WOW!
This Bud's for you
I think it's time for you to GET A LIFE!
Be glad someone took their time, in checking you out twice
Not, everyone on this site, is full of bull-shit
The smallest words, are more likely to be legit
I don't need and expensive comment,
I don't want to impress, when it comes to the best comment
Please do not make love to my poem!
A nice pat on my back will do,
Now that my friend, puts a smile on my face
To know you care, to know you were there:)
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2014
(The Merry Adventures of Robin Good)
Sherwood's Forest legendary, leading man
up, down, tricking eggs between branches
slender, slander, his voice is growing thinner
twisting, turning heads 50 shades of green
Master of disguise reaching for the top archers spot,
A bard, with uncanny precision, ROBIN nonstop
Splitting his opponent LIKE A BOSS!
Aiming arrows, where broken women sit
Creating fantasies, for his band of hypocrites
A serenade, of jealousy and mayhem
A poetic outlaw, generously taking what others earn
Wearing black tights, the hottest profile, sipping wine
A lust beyond Dorthy's Rainbow, a venomous poem
Somewhere, covered in leprechaun's gold
His chest is cold
- Yet warm from all the hands caressing this bard,
He is the best, gravity has no weight on his pen,
A soundless soldier having his way with his sword,
Executing those who challenge him,
Breathing life into many empty accounts
Giving voices and self-encouragement
With no time to drop down this bard from cloud nine
A dissipation of air fresheners and hello's
Painting pain just to pretend it hurts the person
A fragile voice whispering in the shadows
From this hooded bard who carries no face,
A mask of lies, taking what belongs to others.
Robin of honor, graveled by his peasants
MISUNDERSTOOD in every fashion, yet he preys
Pipping dreams away, down an infested rat's path
Shoving Little Johns hopes down the list
Robin is no common criminal, just a bard
Wearing a dark cloak, when in disguise
taking from the greedy --- giving to the needy
Thank you for enjoying my story
Robin Good and his network of Merry Men
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016
He never did see a face though only a board width away,
yet remembers feeling privileged, spending those last few moments
while trying so hard to find the softer soil to lessen the impact
upon the brass plated permanent encasement; in this final resting place.
beneath the old oak
neither sun nor moon perceived
a veil of shadow
He’s mindful of the susceptible sensation within when the last
shovelful that completely covered the coffin tenderly placed,
then the license to use the coarse fill of heavy clay and stoney soil.
to become apart
at one within holy ground
the grass grows each spring
A phenomenal pride when to barrow away the surplus soil,
leaving the mound trim and tidy, a monument for the deceased;
also a monument for him, his very first dig, all with his own hand.
a mark of respect
for three score years and nineteen
© Harry J Horsman 2015
Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2015
There he sat among the ashes, thinking he was, oh, so good,
Just a tiny glowing ember that was once a piece of wood,
And he thought that he was better than the embers there that day,
But, alas, he didn't know that soon his pride would turn him gray.
There were many other embers that were crowding out his space,
They were vying for attention and were trying to keep the pace,
He believed they were a nuisance and he felt they were a pain,
And he knew that they were jealous, and it rubbed against his grain.
"I'm an ember in the ashes and I'm burning hot inside,
I've a reason to be boastful and to feel such awesome pride,
For the others here beside me are just living off my heat,
I'm the one who is important; in myself I am complete."
So he sparkled and he crackled and he told them all to move,
For he thought he didn't need them and he had a thing to prove,
So they rolled into the centre and they left him on the side,
And his glowing heart got bigger and it filled him up with pride.
Very soon he seemed to notice such a change inside of him,
For his glowing heart grew weaker and his light was getting dim,
But the others who had left him were still glowing bright and strong,
What had happened to this ember; could it be that he was wrong?
"I'm an ember in the ashes, but I'm feeling very weak,
I once thought I had a future, but it's looking rather bleak,
And the ones who I rejected are still glowing hot and bright,
Now I think I was mistaken and that they were truly right."
Now the tiny little ember, all alone and getting cold,
Sits among the lowly ashes and is feeling not so bold,
And the pride that once he harboured, that would make him spark and flash,
Has betrayed him in this moment and has turned him into ash.
--submitted to Be Didactic poetry contest - May 07, 2017
Copyright © David Pekrul | Year Posted 2017
-Dr President Lady, please launch the nuclear war button-
I'm packing up my girdle; I'm heading up state
Where society thinks only men should run for president
Chill with Bill, on the side show Hill
Subsequently, he got tripped up with his hand in the biscuit jar
This poem is not about me... It's not about, Hilary
I'm here to cheer and throw off an early vote voluntarily
I'm numbering my days with the aces
Until the 2016 U.S. Presidential election
Only in a woman, you’ll find confidence and determination,
Someplace out there is our leading lady in disguise
A woman who sits down and pee's with pride
A woman Like Hilary, whose place was denied in the sun
I will vote for a woman who is not afraid to lead,
Grab up her crotch, and fight for all the right reasons
Repaint the town white and her fingernails red
Blue lipstick in the breeze, a tommy gun in her possession
A million dollar diamond ring,
A mink from all cultures of the globe
Sing hallelujah, Amen Praise the Lord!
Pink ribbons of freedom,
China can test all her might,
It's time to feel the empowerment of a woman's delight
There she’ll be’, sit down and enjoy,
When it’s time to hear her voice,
The bullet will miss her beautiful mind,
She'll Raid the Democratic Nomination moment of the blind
Her ego on the side; when it's time to reason with society
Feel the shattered glass feeling when sharks attack whitey
Cop Out the Republican Bully
Black Ops the Democratic Liar
For women can reach, preach, and teach,
Nursing a world, collaborating with every mind
A barrier to be breached, a blessed moment to come,
If you require a true hit, vote for a woman in the Oval Office
Who said Mrs. Wonderbra can’t launch the nuclear war button
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014
Smiling Spitting Deadly Sins
Son of the Devil evil and twisted when his mask falls away
Through the curtains of death he turns truth into dark lies
With horrible shadows haunting over Love's light so pure
As jealousy reveals shades of a Soul’s envy at this moment
Cunningly you crawl behind colors pride with selfish hurting
Innocence casting stones—the fruits of a hideous lurking evil
Filling you with stupid silly emotions crying crocodile tears
Hate is your playground game as the Dark One takes his souls
Weeping from the deep wounds inflicted on others at your wish
While fighting one lost battle as your words burn from the ugly
Fork of your tongue while spitting venom they become a vile
Poison in which every last drop makes one’s very skin crawl
When I see the light of truth awakening in your Soul’s eyes
I really see a Hell-Fire scorching red hot who is the real you
Your pretty tongue of thy father speaks the evil words of the
King of Lies to my heart as it is touched by the serpent’s rasp
Yet ever you can never always hide behind this perfidious mask
And such words of beauty will not always hide what lies within
The darkest outreaches of your Soul’s descent into damnation
For Love itself is a journey of the gentle divine and the innocent
But those who breathe the Hell-Fire can only fool us all so long
And when their mask falls away they speak with a serpent’s tongue
So vile and gruesome that they know not of Love as they strike and
Bring eternal pain holding the Devil’s sword with their blackened hand
Causing pain with greatest relish as they laugh heartily at the pain
Inflicted on others not really knowing what they hold in their hand
In hate and anger while striking out at all innocent souls as their
Double-edged sword waits for those from the depths of Hell itself
Gary Bateman, Liam McDaid, and Michael Clarke
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
August 9, 2015 (Unrhymed Quatrain)
Copyright © liam mcdaid | Year Posted 2015
Beneath embered brands of burning roof,
The firefighter waits.
His mask is on; he’s donned his gloves,
Ready to enter the fiery state.
Once again to battle beast,
Whose heart burns with flaming hate.
On hands and knees he treads with care
Over blackened brittle floor.
Making way through smoke dark rooms
Fighting fear from door to door.
Outstretched arms reach for muffled screams
Heard above the deafening roar.
Hoping to find before too late,
The source of curdling screams.
A scenario played all too oft
Within the hero’s dreams.
The task at hand his only thought
And the safety of his team.
Crying, scared a young child waits
For rescue from choking heat.
Then through the blackness something tugs
And pulls his trembling feet.
A Vadered voice says “it’s OK”
And hugs him to the street.
The fire alone remains to beat;
And return to fight he goes.
To find the beast alive and well;
Destroying, as it grows.
He aims his weapon at the seat
And from it water flows.
The devil dies as fire gives in
To the water’s cooling spray.
The house is gone; but at least,
No lives were lost today.
So back he jumps on bright red truck,
And into night he rides away.
In quiet contemplation,
The firefighter stares.
Holding back a hundred thoughts
That known might seem him scared.
But he pushes fear aside,
And treads where others do not dare!
Copyright © Joseph Soper | Year Posted 2017
I am England til I die because England is I.
I am England in my heart, I am England in my eyes,
I am England in my sleep, I am England when I rise,
I am England on the land, in the sea and in the skies.
I will fly high the flag of red and white,
I will do it everyday, I will do it every night,
I will fly it in the peace, I will fly it in the fight.
I will fly it when we're good, I will fly it when we're sh**e.
When England needs, we all fight, we all bleed.
We are together in defeat and together in victory.
I am England with an English heartbeat,
I am England from my head to my feet.
I am England and the feeling is sweet.
We are England and we are complete.
I am England til I die.
I am England with pride.
I am England for life.
I AM ENGLAND,
I AM ENGLAND,
and England is I.
Copyright © Nick Trim | Year Posted 2018
Yes it's I who could have pulled away.
Tis I who could have put a stop.
Again I who let you continue to play.
I'm human not being just a stage prop.
My life is not some top Broadway show.
To be replayed each day and every night.
Nor can I be a message sent incognito.
As Paul Revere who rode telling of which light.
One if by secret, nor two if you see.
I feel in limbo, no British is there to come.
I'm not a country who wishes to be free.
Seems bills of rights I do need some.
No founding fathers, no constitution to sign.
Not even a Betsy Ross to sew your flag.
But I chose to sit back with my glass of wine.
No more games , no more of this playing tag.
Copyright © Brenda Chiri | Year Posted 2018
One Proud Yellow Dandelion
Lantanas and pears are lushly in bloom,
Baby chartreuse leaves brighten winter’s late gloom
And one proud yellow dandelion.
We wait for the redbuds – where are you?
There are dark spring clouds under the blue,
And one proud yellow dandelion.
Nandina berries like Christmas late,
Spring cold breezes now sealing their fate,
And one proud yellow dandelion.
Courageously the dandelion stiffly stands,
Knowing it will change, blow like sand,
And mother the earth with new children.
To bloom and fly away.
Copyright © Sunlite Wanter | Year Posted 2018
Pink- Pink- Pink-
Every peak has its own attractions,
Like the mountains,
The mounts of a woman,
Have always remained,
Her pride possessions. 01
It has the charms,
More intoxicating than wine,
As it reveals the beauty,
Of a woman's alluring binds. 02
These mounts gives,
The wings of imagination and colors,
In the mind of an artist,
And they arise the passion,
In lovers mind.03
Their rise and fall,
Has shaken great empires,
Under their cool and peaceful shade,
The dreams of a child form shapes. 04
Its serenity has given birth,
To most pious and holy figures on Earth,
And their warmth have shaped the dreams,
Of many powerful kingdoms on Earth.05
They feed life giving milk,
To every new born light,
Every time they laugh and cry,
These lofty mounts,
Help in forming shapes,
When the child begins its story. 06
But these pride possessions,
Of a woman,
These lofty inspirations,
Of Poets, Writers and Artists,
These magical charms
Which often become more attractive,
Than the face of a woman,
A wide spread pollution,*
Which is the unwanted gift of
Modern living and
They are also the gifts,
Of worst living habits,
Adopted by thousands,
and millions of woman,
As they fall prey,
Before the charms,
And shows of modern generation. 07
Many such wonderful women,
Who are in the grip of this pollution,*
Have brought this curse on them,
Of their own follies and errors. 08
Many such suffering women,
Can really get rid of,
From the curse of this pollution,*
If only they can show,
The courage to adopt,
The natural way,
Of living and breathing,
Possible under the boon like shade,
Of real Yoga. 09
Of the distortions,*
Of their pink pink ribbons,
Are mainly the results,
Of their own creations,
And these results,
Are not something,
One should blame,
The destiny or God every time. 10
Some of the serious reasons are,
Not caring rightly,
For one’s own pride possessions,
And the lack of,
A cool and calm mind,
From morning till night,
All the junk foods and wine. 11
Beyond all time limits,
your peaceful mind. 12
Running and more running
To catch others,
So that you may not leg behind. 13
And madly crying,
For more and more wealth,
Even if you have sufficient,
For your life time. 14
Are the reasons,
Which invite the pollution,*
To sow its rotten seeds,
The enchanting valley,
Amid the mounts of,
Pink pink flowers. 15
Can still be derived out,
With the little practice of Yoga,
But it remains untouched,
And unsung about,
By most of the modern women. 16
These otherwise elegant women,
Regularly face the problems,
Lack of peace,
And sound sleep.
Which ultimately take away,
And coolness of mind,
Resulting in strengthening more,
The un sprouted seeds of pollution.* 17
Still it is not too late,
If they can only change,
Their life styles,
Their eating and drinking habits,
And adopt from today,
The way of natural living,
The boon like Yoga. 18
As the practice of Yoga,
Not only add years to your life,
But life to your years, as well. 19
Kanpur India 15th Nov. 2012
*Pollution- The other name of Cancer.
Those who want to share their views on My above Poem may
write to me on my yahoo mail id: email@example.com I
would welcome your brief comments and if possible I will reply
you. Thanking you in anticipation. Ravindra K Kapoor
Inspired by Poet Destroyer I am dedicating this Poem to all those women of the world, who are facing any such problem of Pollution* And to those also who are not facing it, so that their life my feel the joy of living under the blessings of Yoga.
TO OVERCOME OR TO TAKE PRECAUTION ON THIS PROBLEM UP TO SOME EXTENT- ONE CAN START WITH ANY ONE OR TWO OR THREE OR ALL FIVE OF THE SIMPLE YOGA EXERCISES I HAVE GIVEN IN MY ‘YOGA IN POEM’ SERIES 1 TO 5 ON POETRY SOUP IT- SELF. YOUR COMMENTS WOULD BE HIGHLY APPRECIATED. http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=490745
IMPORTANT NOTE: The best effects of Yoga can only be obtained if it includes the main exercises of essential ‘PRANAYAMA’ otherwise it wouldn’t yield the desired results and PRANYAM should be learn properly first. Ravindra K Kapoor
Copyright © Ravindra K Kapoor | Year Posted 2012
Fear is what they clothe them in.
Fear of losing their life because of one mistake.
Fear of losing their life because an officer is having
a bad day.
Some say it's not racism;
"It's police brutality."
Whatever you call it, I can't
help but ask "where is humanity?"
Mothers weeping because they're losing their sons.
Teaching them to fight back with silence
but that is no weapon compared to a gun.
Six feet under, leaving families to fight for justice
over their lives.
Societies getting tired of it all-
starting riots and constructing strikes.
How many more time will history repeat itself?
Or are we still writing [his]tory , using coverups
All lives matter despite of their race.
All lives matter despite their mistakes.
In times such as these justice will demand to be served.
No matter how chaotic, crazy, or obscured.
Life is a gift, one that we should all treasure.
Because all lives matter and we need to protect them;
no matter the measure.
Copyright © Amber Binford | Year Posted 2014
Dedicated to my Dad Jerry W. Niday 3/20/1952 - 6/18/2013
I am who I am because of him
He’s the reason for my son’s name
He gave me my courage & my strength
To stand tall even when standing wasn’t easy
Stand for the ones who can’t
To think and fend for myself
I’m my Daddy made over
Taught me to fight back
To never back down
How to pick myself back up
When I’ve been knocked down
Fight for what I believe
I’m my Daddy made over
He gave me my stubbornness
Gave me my pride
Gave me my temper
Taught me not to take crap
To speak my mind no matter who
Work for what I want
I’m my Daddy made over
How to keep my emotions in check
How to handle large amounts of pain
When in trouble he always had my back
He knew how my mind worked better than anyone
I got it from him
I’m my Daddy made over
Even though he’s gone
I’ll stand and continue on
I may stumble I may fall
May even get hurt along the way
But I’ll pick myself back up
I’ll dust myself off and stand tall
I’m honored and proud to say
I’m my Daddy made over
Sabrina Niday Hansel
Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2013
You tell me that my love is not real
You tell me that my love needs to be more concrete
More box that I should fit into
More small manageable pieces
That are easier to swallow
But I can't just do that
When explaining my sexual orientation
It is so easy to say not straight
Not straight is easy to understand
Not straight is just the opposite of straight
But not straight
Does not feel right
Because sexuality is so much more
Than male and female
Gay and straight
It may be hard to understand
But some people don't fit into those labels
Some people reject labels
Labels are meant to be on boxes and not people anyway
I am not a box
I am not some pretty little package
That you can just name and make it so
I am a kaleidoscope
A brightly colored mosaic
Changing with each twist and turn
I am a beautiful cascade of emotion
Rushing over the cliff of hate
To wash away all the bigotry
I am a fire
Raging with a passion to share with the world
I am pansexual
I love all people
No that does not make me a slut
No that does not mean I will date anyone
What it does mean is that I will give you a chance
I will see how we can coexist
I will show you the love that we all deserve
Not as male or female
Or gay and straight
But as human beings
Copyright © Brittany Larson | Year Posted 2015
Everyone's purpose is as light as a floating feather.
Unfortunately, the focus on it is like stirring mud
in weather that currently coats fog on past tense
verbs and a current that doesn't flow in any particular
direction within current words.
It deprives everything involved; it is misunderstood.
In a field of dandelions that have turned into
the tooth of the lion, blow the seeds that have become
transparently lovely, the flowers we consider weeds,
with a harmonica full of soul that makes snowfall and
sunshine toast a drink and dance together in a
direction that makes adjectives jealous.
Maybe a seed will land in the sea and it will be buried
in the sand when the riptide buries the root,
and your song will become as bluesy and intense as the tides.
There is a chance that an eagle will grace your presence and
a stranded quill will land under the part of the wing you lost
to lift you up. Even with an intense mist and heavy covering,
you're willing to ruin a good stirring spoon.
Be grateful for however you get your feather floating.
Copyright © Mindy Clay | Year Posted 2016
A solitary piece the diamond
precious rare gem most treasured
by those lucky enough to hold
Once in possession it is rarely out of grasp
Like the gemstone the mother
requires very specific conditions
in holding fast her (family/) childrens love
Treasured forever in her heart
she will go out of her way
to preen and protect them
holding them dear to her
deep within her maternal safe – the heart
closely guarded by the mind
Her infatuation of all treasures to her
are totally understandable
especially when you think to the complexity
of structure and process taken in creation
Just as from the ‘unbreakable’ in ancient greek
this allotrope of carbon
with strength of bonding between atoms
is representative of that strong love
between mum and child
The maternal being could be compared
to the superlative physical qualities of the stone
Even the characteristic luster
of this gem so prevalent from its ability
to disperse light and colour
compared to the many strengths
roles and qualities of the mother
seen by the many she deals with daily
A most high pressured job
versus the high pressured temperature
within the Earths mantle
that forms the delightful rock it gives birth to
Infants delight and ignite the forbearer
just as the jewel would dazzle the room
a mother’s love encaptures the magical luster
of those she’s birthed and nothing
stands inbetween this richest of cargo’s
Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2013
until an hour before the devil fell,
God thought him beautiful in heaven . . .
God created his angels long before
the temptation of Adam and Eve,
and the angel Lucifer was the most beautiful
he moved freely between roaming earth
and back to heaven and to the throne of God
Lucifer fell from heaven because of his pride
conceit in his own beauty
he desired to be GOD and not a servant of God
he was exceedingly beautiful and he used that beauty for evil
God made him the highest of all angels
a heaven where all the angels were beautiful but Lucifer
was God's most lovely creation
Lucifer wanted the throne of God
wanted to take over heaven
cast out God
in any way he could divise
but an hour before the temptation in the garden
God cast the beautiful angel, Lucifer out of heaven
he did not fall
he was pushed out
Lucifer came down and down
created an anti-God city where he was the ruler
he created hell
and became the Satan that we know of today
and temptation became his sword of power
he can appear to you in many forms
from beautiful or evil
a monster with horns
or even a hissing snake
Satan moves freely between roaming earth
and back to his dark city . . .
his only purpose to fill his city of Hell
February 8, 2016
For the contest, Expand Arthur Miller's Thought
sponsor, Julia Ward
Copyright © Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016