Ceuta is a Spanish city in North Africa (population: 80K people). On July 30-31, 2026 it was invaded by over 60,000 mostly young men (no women or children) who breached the border from Morocco. Some went back, but many thousands stayed or went to Spain and no one tried stop or expel them
To those who let the hordes come in:
You are the enemy within
And care not for folks of yours
The fiends walked through the open doors
They didn’t care for the law
The riots worst we ever saw
Payback when Spain Okay’s their stay
But own people they betray
Somewhere hides the “greater good”
Netflix or even Hollywood
Should pick the story of conquest
About how we lost the West
The Muslim savages are best
Failed breaks, all riled, brutal fest
They didn’t stop, run amok-crazed
Yet Spain’s “left” remain unfazed
They don’t belong, the devil’s seed
In our world, with our creed
Projection of the things to come
Continue play blind, deaf and dumb
August 5, 2026
You are the totem, simply told,
In man and mountain lore
Pillared tall, your spirit thrives
Where myths and legends soar –
Among the ravens where they fly,
With creed held fast in hand,
You speak the language of the earth;
You sound the depths of man
And grasp the wisdom of the pearl
Fashioned in the sea,
Calling for the conch to voice
The truth you know to be –
A monolith of latitudes,
With grace not undermined,
Lamenting as the deaf and dumb
Are handled by the blind,
You wear the scars of battles waged
Across the centuries
And grant the bearer of your wounds
The marks of history –
Where now you stand, you now arise
To face the rising tide;
You see the quiet burning sun;
You hear the ocean’s cry
Raise now your silent, muted voice!
Lift up your hooded eyes!
Let loose the chains that time has forged
Where truth and beauty lie –
Exalt us with your noble height!
Bestir the waking land!
Totem, in your boundless grace,
Call forth a better man –
UN delegates walk out on Israel’s Prime Minister speech
They all walked out, feigning scorn
This is how decency gets mourned
That walk of shame, like the perps
The deaf and dumb, immoral twerps
The rotten body of UN
It shows it’s worth, I am no fan
Most sided strongly with Hamas
The slime that dreams of “Jews to gas”
The world’s a very cruel place
It wants a scum in Zion’s space
Condemning not kidnapped and killed
“The Palestine’s Sweethearts Guild”
Baptized by shame, for all to see
They wouldn’t listen to a plea
Well done Hamas, Iran, Qatar
This walk, both vile and bizarre
The evil spirits ran for cover
In hallways they preferred to hover
While facts dissected utter darkness
The uglies couldn't stand the starkness
Yet truth prevails, be it known
Israel wins, if all alone
No, never be no Palestine
An outcome to which resign
September 26, 2025
For: VIBRATIONS FROM A VERSO Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
July 24, 2025
*****
in the dark coal of night
the light the light
is hidden from our sight
each one is blind
and silent deaf and dumb
without the right
to question why oh why
can't You be kind!
“Holding on is believing that there's only a past; letting go is knowing that there's another future.” Author unknown.
Make no bones about it. I shall never want you,
Don't waste your love on someone worthless like me.
All is lost like a fat candle lit in bright sunlight,
Wasted as a dewdrop falling in the sea;
It's as pointless as a cold snowflake
Settling on freezing Mount Everest.
I'm deaf and dumb to your spirit,
Perhaps I'm stone blind or have a rock instead of a heart.
Don't blame yourself; my soul is ravished by tempests past
That rage was like a tornado inside me.
I try to dredge the ancient hates.
That left me stubborn and blind,
Swept by the hurricanes of old loves,
An anger whirling like a rushing wind,
I weave a shade dark and benighted
To smother all that's bad.
Alas, the end result is that I cannot love.
I'm just indifferent. Do I make myself clear?
Placed 1
Look out over the fields
In the direction of the trees
See the old man praying
While kneeling down upon his knees
Cares less for who's watching
More so for the ones that may hear
He has done this daily
Ev'ry morning for many years
No one knows his true age
Or where it was that he came from
First thought he was strange
Or that he was deaf and dumb
He once had come to church
And though he never said a word
He sang in wond'rous voice
The likes of which no ones e'er heard
He has rarely been seen
Since that day of angelic sound
Yet they're sure he's still there
Living alone on sacred ground
Many have ventured out
In hopes to see him once again
Yet they come home empty
Not even knowing where they've been
He's still there over fields
Somewhere near the cottonwood trees
Always looking this way
To see who's down upon their knees
Hears the ones who give thanks
For everything they have got
He knows they are aware
Of all the lessons they've been taught
First Part: All I see are my toes!
A constant burning and stinging sensation under this weighted plaster cast has got me bedridden. The cast is made out of plaster and is white in color that is stuffed with gauze layered tightly with a bandage. This cast covers the severe damage from a fall a week ago that snapped my ankle bone into two like a bitter cold cucumber. I’m staring at this soft but firm cast that is unmoved and unshaken because I’m lying perfectly still waiting for it to heal. The gauze slowly is unraveling from the inside of the cast. And my toes!
Second Part: Leg Live Life to the Fullest!
Only three living toes peek out
From beneath the plaster my leg screams to be let out!
“Let me go!” wails my injured leg.
Sweat slithers out; whilst my leg struggles to stay afoot.
Waken thee leg and don’t succumb
Don’t be downtrodden, deaf, and dumb
And leg keep dancing to a new tune
And keep blessing yourself underneath the midnight moon!
There are no more telephone booths,
not the old type - the glass coffins.
The Atalanta hub is rocking,
planes and people buzzing in and out
of an anthill nexus
of distracted minds.
Calling London,
a city
that has red telephone boxes,
concrete-set booths
that all ring at once.
Wrong numbers are seeking answers.
There is a cacophony
in the pressed ears of puzzlement.
The airport begins to spin around,
faster and faster,
a shaky orbit encircling speaking lips.
Dialing fingers sweat, are too thick
for changing conversations.
Talking heads are searching
for one direct call,
one line in an ethereal ball of string.
Red boxes are bellowing now,
every voice is angry,
nearby glass booths
are trembling with a frustrated rage.
All these images are an allegory
for the deaf and dumb days of yore,
a distant time locked in its own
transparent sarcophagus -
drowned-out mouths,
even now
fitfully trying to connect.
love
is blind
mad persuit
they always said
but your message clear
loud could I hear
deaf and dumb
pulseless
hate
Murder in the first degree, no ammendment' a tone
Never to attune; to.' the U S A to be deaf and dumb?
Were its constitution srruck, a mortal wound;
Would be done! A world of opportunity; undone, the
Vital seed of true debate, free expression the chance
To counter hate.' I appreciate as many do, a healthy
America is better.' Reality's heart, beating beneath
The red white and blue!
The world’s on edge of a disaster,
As man both deaf and dumb has gone,
Clueless at crest with empty bluster,
The world’s on edge of a disaster,
Helpless, man’s fallen flat, and faster,
Fruits of his sin averse to own,
The world’s on edge of a disaster,
As man both deaf and dumb has gone.
__________________________________
Reflections |10.07.2023| Triolet, world
Poet’s note: Triolet is a short poem of rhyme and repetition. We can call this a modern English Triolet. It is generally set in iambic foot, and ends with what is often called a masculine ending. Here, the lines rhyming with the first line end with an amphibrach (a feminine ending).
I met her in the orphanage that sheltered drab lives.
A young girl past her teens, deaf and dumb,
Not by birth but through an accident.
She had a past, bright n’ beautiful.
But the free moving gears came abruptly to a painful halt.
Once her ocean was dotted with boats ready to set sail
Now she seems to drift through a vacant space,
Darting in and out of shadows.
Through gestures wild, she tries to communicate,
But mostly incomprehensible
Her face often goes into scowling,
As she fails to make herself understood.
Yet her eyes tell a story which gleam,
At the prospect, of someone ready to listen intent.
Her inability doesn’t deter her from trying again and again,
To recount some prized incident locked up in her memory,
That is a shut vault now whose key is lost to her forever!
Yet in her bastion of darkness, a lantern still flickers!
_______________________________
May.2.2023
~Placed First~
Up to 20 Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Sotto Poet
Echoes of the past
Lost in the passage of time,
Shadows that grow with the fading light, cast,
Morphing into erroneous snippets, spurious and serpentine,
Troubled hearts of misplaced cares,
Focusing more on beguiling schemes,
Instead of compassion, empathy, consciousness, or being aware,
Aware of the loss of self, of mind, of hope, of dreams,
We are all blind, deaf, and dumb,
the death of reasoning makes one succumb,
Who knew emptiness could have such weight?
That silence can drown you in sound?
That access to knowledge would cause wisdom to asphyxiate?
That ease would cause contentment harder to be found?
Progressions that prolong ones agony,
A few more moments that will be forgotten,
battling against objects, that kill the memory,
before the black consumes, swallowing all in,
What should one do, to keep hope near when the facts are grim?
Already bruised knees hit the floor, begging for strength, while talking to him.
The eyes of mild dawn on the body of sky
No nose to smell
No ear to hear
No tongue to speak and taste
No hand to touch
No leg to walk away
Just has open breast where heart is playing
A divine ancient game
White rose water on the field
Fertile land in contented embracing
Watering, planting; Watering, planting
No fertilizer comes to interfere
No locust comes to deter far
Yet, swindled all in the imperishable air
Luster of eyes in diminution fair,
In blind, deaf and dumb gyre
No more this time-
Within the blink of eye
Sleeping is wrecked into smile
World finds the sweet child
©Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
31/10/2022
listening watching learning ~ oh how we have become blind deaf and dumb
Rustling and bustling through the day, makes for unease--I Am
Third Place
Written 10/5/22
The Power Of Silence Poetry Contest
Sponsor: JCB Brul
Syllable Counter (17)
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.