Best Sackcloth Poems

I sigh …
pushing warm, wordless weight
onto the twilight mist
where its folly hangs like old sackcloth
the silver-doubloon moon dripping
it’s wan wonder to daub
breath and bones alike...

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The burial ground,  groomed to greet
the gatherers of their love apocalypse
with garlands grown and sown
from the rose fire of Athena's throne,
on this day they...

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The Cronus prowls the darkened glade,
in pitch black robe of sackcloth made.
He foretells of eternal night,
and seeks to wield death's heinous blade.

From shadow he haunts...

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Would you crusade to remote regions
in search of that timeless tomb, the one made of seasalt & sandstone,
to towns tempered by the terror of war,...

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Removing the sharpness
 of doubts corners
 Rounding off the edges
 of borrowed defeats 
 No room for either
 at this table of peace

 Examining the...

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I'm an African, with an American attached to my name,
a lot of cultured people like wearing nationalistic, hyphenated accessory
My people arrived on a no-class ship...

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DOWN A STORM DRAIN GONE FOREVER.

There was once a wicked, jealous old human,
Who lived in a house down the lane, 
Not far from us,
Ugly and...

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In the Dark Silence and Late

 At the enchanted hour when the night turns a ghostly gray, 
clouds slowly swirl in anger billowing a dense...

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Now Israel loved Joseph more, a son of his old age.
He made for him a splendid coat; his brothers were enraged.
They scarce could civil speak...

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The Scriptures teach that there is a Heaven to gain and a Hell to shun !

We Preachers need to pass the Word,
for there are far...

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I'm a christian Nudist,
I believe that the only way to find true pleasure as a christian,
Is to give up all worldly belongings, live as a...

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Giant of justice has visited Baba Umkulukulu
The lion that gave in to wolves like sheep
To be sheered for our own freedom has died 
Father of...

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the sack cloth lay
black as ash upon the mourners  
the sack cloth lay
tears could not soften or defray
rods could not break its rough corners
upon...

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Someone to Love

Sweet little ragdoll with tar button eyes
do you see your worth, when the little ones cry?
Can you feel their hearts lighten,
at your faded...

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By Stanley Collymore

Never speak ill of the dead we’re constantly and solemnly
exhorted regardless of who they are or the life that
they freely chose to live,...

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