The dove is chained
It cries for peace,
It bleeds, it weeps
It calls for help,
It begs, it yelps
And yet no one is around,
Captured for the love of the game -
To tame, to shame,
The symbol of peace,
Trapped - now scarred,
The bird of peace, is now the bird of trauma
The dove fights for its life
But the shackles cut like a knife
Each pull has consequences
Each pull brings it closer to death
Compliance is a life sentence -
Trapped, but alive -
Or escape, but dies
The dove is peace
But its captors move in violence
Toilet in the open. No secrets.
Plexiglass. Concrete. Stainless steel.
Pleas turn to echos, blend in.
Captors - no trusting smile.
Bosses more ruthless.
Colleagues don't yield.
Cries at night.
Helpless.
Sleep.
St. Patrick was a slave.
He escaped and then forgave.
He brought Christ’s holy word
To those who had not heard.
They had been his captors.
He saved them from terrors.
With shamrock plant in hand
He helped them understand
That God was very grand.
God is a Trinity
In His divinity.
God is filled full of love
For those born from above.
This thrilled the Irish so.
They were happy to know
No more fear in the night
That them a god might smite.
They embraced Jesus Christ
And found that He sufficed.
That is why to this day
We hold St. Patrick's Day.
A poem inspired by “Involuntary Spies” by Marion Strobel:
Without a Shadow of a Doubt
Soldiers, Spies, Brute Strength, Intelligence
Without a shadow of doubt, there is a difference
The latter exists in a position of negligence
Yet they stand strong and courageous
Without a shadow of a doubt, their loyalty is contagious
Ready to die for their country for a cause unknown
Knowing, Showing, that they are alone
Without a shadow of doubt, they stand on the true front lines
Ahead of all the rest
Ready to do the bidding of those they test
Sometimes they switch sides, showing their captors they can be rotten
Double Agents, Infidels, Soldiers forgotten
Just like Mussolini, Franco, and Stalin
But without a shadow of a doubt, they become lower and worse
Hungry for power and money
Using tactics that end up with them in a hearse
Without a shadow of a doubt, without a single shadow of doubt
Held as captives in a ship
Chains binding us together
Hunger, but we could not starve
Tears but we could not cry.
We were warriors of our land
Children of the soil
May the gods forbid that our ancestors would look us in shame.
And so together,
We ambushed our captors
And sank the ship
It was better to die
Than be slaves in a foreign land.
prisoner rape
We read of the plight of the Hamsas hostages
they could have been freed, but for the brutal
Israel's regime they are still there
At the same time, and not written about are
thousand of Palestinians sitting in Israeli jails
tortured and raped by their captors
One wonders how it comes about when men
rape other men, do where is the lust factor
to produce an ********
Or is it that torture produces a lust factor
akin to sexual lust; if so, their violators must
be full of hatred
What common house pet is nocturnal?
My king cobra? You guess.
Is that a COMMON house pet?
It is common at my house.
Maybe my cat? Another pet-owner ventures to guess.
In truth both dogs and cats are natural nocturnal beings.
However, dog has learned to adapt to his master’s schedule.
Choosing to sleep when he sleeps.
Cat prowls off doing her own thing,
caring not what her captors are doing.
She meets other cats in the alley
or the field or the orchard
and......they howl with wolves.
Cats cannot be contained or censored.
I spent my first day of retirement chopping down small trees.
Renegade brambles full of ivy and poison vines, Kansas kinds.
Tripped on several of them, landing hard, without using my hands.
I heard my mother’s voice yell “Don’t break a hip, that is the end!”
Dripping sweat and exhausted, I came into the house to shower
My husband returned from his supper-hunt in ten minutes.
He is a tattle tale.
"There was a full grown doe in the driveway eating the leaves you chopped."
I am not surprised.
Deer is my power animal.
She symbolizes gentleness, grace and beauty.
She is also a symbol of freedom.
I feel I have escaped my captors.
Deer teaches us to be compassionate and kind.
I had found almost none of either at my last workplace.
Full of meanness, backbiting, jealousy and hatred.
Captured,
Tortured,
Endlessly,
Mercilessly,
24/7 Continuously.
What did I do that was so terribly wrong?
I was born in an era, where the powers that be felt, I did not belong.
As the quality of my life gets savagely raped,
I take comfort knowing that I will be victorious and make my escape.
Inevitably, I'll get too weak and die from all this abuse,
and escape from my captors, all government approved.
Every father’s child,
A seed in the wild,
Nature and nurture are its tutors,
The unseen are its captors.
Every father’s child,
Crafted by the gentle and mild,
They come to a vast field,
Oblivious of tomorrow’s yield.
Every father’s child,
Made to go through the wild,
As they hunt for treasures in the night,
Time teaches them to fight.
Every father’s child,
Their tomorrow is scripted and filed,
Carried by tender bosom,
Separated as they blossom.
March 19, 2024.
she defied her captors
staring at their vile faces, she slowly unsheathed her sword
Her vacant hazel eyes dared them to kill her
never losing contact
her face was fearless as they approached
five against one
she made a formidable adversary
slashing and killing
they had not expected this much fury from an unassuming woman
she was a tornado, a sand storm, a tsunami
there was a solid viciousness about her.
She kept slashing and killing
until four lay dead
how did I do? She asked the survivor.
He put his hands up and backed away.
Believing her reputation at last.
Spreading her truth himself.
To anyone who would listen.
Warning them.
The silence of the ewes
He helped run them up seven sheep for the slaughter
got them into the truck, taking them to the abattoir
in a pen outside, they waited and bleated nonstop
Dim-witted perhaps, they didn’t expect a happy result.
In circles, they ran, but one by one, caught and
brought into slaughter.
When it was the last sheep’s turn to go into
the room of lifeblood and gloating men in caps
the sheep had stopped bleating following its
captors in and offered no resistance.
The men in bloodied overalls were silent
this was unexpected, yet the axe fell
In the night, the boy had a dream he had stopped
the slaughter of the seventh sheep, together
boy and animal walked to a green field
to a place where the sun does not ever set and
the sky is deep azure.
The boy held on to this dream for a long time
believing it to be the truth, but finally, he had to let go
He was as guilty as the men with gore on their hands
simply by being of the humankind
I am like an oak, she had often told us.
I will never bend to anyone’s will, especially not his.
He was her captor, so she decided to bend.
Like a willow, to survive.
By the time she was finished
she was a dandelion, and all of her determined pieces had blown away.
What was left standing was not powerful enough for tea.
The oak with the iron will was no more.
The rest of us had been mere acorns.
We had no aspirations now
except to survive our captors.
All I can hope for, I can not put into writing.
Because I am turning blank, my words shot with lightning.
I enter this cavern- and the doors close forever.
I rid myself of my family's voices, wishing they would pull a lever.
To send me back to a world where I don’t belong.
I promise to stay in the background, and let my presence not be strong.
I promise-
To give up my being honest.
About what kind of pain I carry.
This pain that I will marry.
And never let my soul connect.
To another person, I will always deflect.
So I cannot share-
The pain that leaves me impaired.
OLD
Outside the classroom
Sun cloud and tree dapple the grassy vale
Aspens tremble, willows sway in graceful measures
Blackbird, thrush and warbler trill a delicate scale
Daisies, buttercups, cowslips scatter transient treasures
Above and beyond in skies azure and white
Skylarks ascend, red kites soar in cerulean
And in their chosen study focus sight
Gaze down upon this blest Elysian scene
NEW
Now Inside the classroom
Dust and shadows dapple desk and board
Mere echoes of live voices pulse the air
The students now spread far and wide abroad
Their lives confined by overbearing care
But when freedom casts aside curbs as of captors
Young eyes may once again be raised on high
And study with the skylark and the raptors
The transient blissful vista there still nigh
1 October 2021
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