On the day I was wending my way down south,
barely before crossing the border,
I was warned, when there, 'Don't drink the water,'
so as to keep body and soul in order.
But what about all those crops they grow,
are they hydrated, by any chance,
(and exported to the United States)
with bottled Evian from the Alps in France?
ANGER SPEWING FORTH
CANADIAN SMOKE FROM UP NORTH
WE SHALL NO REMORTH
(thanks Sylvester thuffering thuckatash)
There exists a thin line
Between “you” and “them”.
To ask “who is them” is necessary,
Not asking shouts your capture.
But to ask “who are you”
Is to search for yourself
In places they didn’t expect you to look.
I said a thin line but truly, it’s thick
Knowing south when the rest only north.
In this game, losing your soul
Means taking with you the blind folded.
The ones who refuse to look the other way.
But…, thick or thin, does it really exist?
Now how about, “there exist a wall”
That separates the real and the current you.
This time the task to find
The material the wall is made of
Which will allow you to question and find,
The difficult but vital part of breaking free.
I said a wall, what if there exists nothing.
You see clearly the lines and the lies.
But you know the cost of disobedience.
And got tired of going where
The masses refuse to leave their footprints.
Tired of thorns of red zones,
You know the path, potholes and the truth.
Indeed there’s nothing, just an invisible border.
And you know it.
I crossed the border, but the border stayed. It settled in my accent and my name, In every form I filled, each debt I paid, In every room where strangers played the game
Of asking where I'm really, truly from. As though belonging needed further proof. As though a homeland were a beating drum One carries hidden underneath the roof.
Yet years passed by. The border changed its face. It softened into memory and song. I found that roots are less a single place Than all the places where we learn we're wrong
To think the heart obeys a map's decree. The border followed me—and became me.
Every door has a line
you cross without thinking
the one between outside
and in.
Most days you don't feel it.
Some days it is everything.
That line holds more than weight:
it holds the will to move,
the choosing to go through
when going through costs something.
Not just the body
that walks on good days
but the one that stops,
breathes,
then walks anyway.
The one that rolls.
The one that takes the long way
because the short way
wasn't built for it.
You carry yourself across.
Not the version
with the right papers,
the right words,
the right way of moving
the real version:
warm,
already enough,
asking no permission
at the line.
The crossing costs nothing
except the willingness
to move.
And on the other side
is the same sky,
a little lighter now,
and you, arrived,
carrying what you carried,
which was always
everything.
My neurological needs spread like a flea, sapping my strength, sucking my blood like a relentless disease.
Creating chaos, disorder this man has no order where which his life goes.
God only knows my hope's a fragile border that turns barren and cold.
Where once was order, now shadows arise.
As harmony fades and the light slowly drains where no life remains.
Wolves
Tell the sheep:
You don’t see us
Our teeth our hunger our own pain
You won’t see what we must do
To you
You see life and love through the lense
Of human beings
Oh how sweet
How touching
Friends and neighbors
We see you
Through what we want
Your wool your blurry vision
Your care for the Lamb
It’d be best if the world went dark
The last light
Doused
By us for you
Make you blind and bleating
Then what will you do
But worship us?
How fortunate I am that your arrow–
which would otherwise rip caverns
through obsidian–met the other end
of my heart with so little as a keyhole.
How blessed I am that my love now seeps to the sound of a soothing pulse.
In sync with honey swimming over a rounded edge in lazy drizzles.
Carrying warmth as it flows past an ivory crib cradling breath.
But, oh, dear Cupid,
how cursed you made me when
my love finally reached the fence
of another's heart, and bounced back
not in the way
that a calm lake reflects the sun's smile,
but as if my affection were a stone
returned to shore by crashing waves,
reminding sand of the border between land and sea.
ONE
Marlboro in flight
Distinguished bud hold ropes tight
Driving, smoKING sight
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
TWO
Cremated bud ash
Flew on inflated blimp gas
Product, sponsor pass
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
THREE
Airport told ‘shut down’
Cigarettes, coming to town
Balloon bud just found
Two of us on a sixties hippie trip
to see if our gears would slip or mesh
innocent but wary yet wide-eyed
to the Imperial city of Marrakech
she perfumed with patchouli
me I traveled totally tie-dyed
all around was peace and love
we teamed to a tee and seemed
a fit the perfect hand in glove
but not long later it was deemed
as it was commonplace to see
in the medina not strapped for cash
kif from the Rif sellers
in the souk smoking hash
the country lacked law and order
no sooner said than escorted
back to Ceuta across the border
funny now in retrospect but not then
how when we blew out on the Sirocco
tho' we hadn't gone so far as the kasbah or bazaar
were deported without ceremony from Morocco
A republic finds itself in a wobbly state,
Governance shrouded by an opaque regime,
Some strands emerge together into a credible tapestry,
Many weaves yet to emerge from the loom.
Decades of simmering hostility,
Punctuated by spasms of bonhomie,
Sputtering out into recrimination—
These circumscribe our strategic choices.
The populace divided, a schism stark and deep,
Hawks and doves in stark contrast.
Neighbourhood's dangerous gaze, fixed.
A hiccup to thrive without peace.
Thoughts of a Border Collie While
Pondering a Bone
Mine, mine, mine, I think
as I drip drool on the floor.
Bloody meat clings
tenaciously to the hard bone.
White fat, like veins of gold,
marbles the red treat.
My owner is thawing this delicious
delicacy on the counter.
I watch and wait with longing
as I think of the animal odor.
Sharp canines will soon tear
and rend all from the cow’s femur.
My probing tongue will pull the tangy,
succulent marrow from its hiding place.
When all has been eaten, it will
become my favorite chew toy as
I will gnaw, gnaw, gnaw until not
one atom remains.
Then I will lay back in the cool shade
and realize I am a lucky dog.
my sentinel cat
lies in watch at the window...
a vagrant, strange pet
approaches from the outside...
encounter at the border
Wall rises high, barrier of steel and stone
“Keep out,” it commands, “this land is our own”
Hope knows no borders, go back home
© daniel miltz
Today, in Wisconsin, three children lost their lives.
The media of course pours on us, emotional jive!
I, personally, cannot imagine, such a heartbreaking loss.
In a school, no less, friends and parents bear the cost!
Mental illness is a bloody monstrous thief.
When neglected,……it causes endless grief!
Watch the screams to take guns away.
While the breath of innocents by other means.
No…no guns needed …no,none at all.
Young girls choked and raped.. no border, needed.at all?
Fentanyl came here flowing like rivers without any ration.
Add 1,500 last minute pardons, we will not have a nation!
12/16/2024
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.