History. Poems - Poems about History.

I. THE WANDERING I was born with a life that bled— a seafloor womb dragging tides of fern and marigold char The priests brought saffron and fear crowning me with diagnosis They said: She is too empty They said: Fill her with figs with seed with stillness They said: Her belly speaks too loud Mute her O Plato old patriarch of phantoms my body was no beast— just prophecy you never learned...

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Glass-foot by Gabrielle Munslow She kneels on glass. Two jagged rocks, hidden—clenched behind her back. Secrets. Her mouth open, not in benediction but for unholy things. He looks down—unkind. She rises, smashes the rock into his skull. Hallelujah escapes her breath. She was shackled to desire. But her mind wandered. Wrote verses behind her eyes. Words curled in corners, caught fire. She fought back with poetry. With flame. 2 / 4 Cracks...

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I've been fed a prune of life, Spooned it silver, everlasting. I spat it out to seek a knife, To chop and cease it of forecasting. The birth is reason as much itself: Not 'yond the self conceived. Wrote for book on busy shelf, Whose tales unread aren't grieved....

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Nine months after October 6, 1973 PM Golda Meir of Israel was history For an intelligence failure colossal She became a political fossil… Fast forward to October 7, 2023 ...

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The home where Chella grew up, in the ghetto of Liberty City Florida, had beige carpets so old that pieces of the tuft and twirl would come out of the backing under-foot. The apartment window shades were white floral plastic rectangles cut from an old shower curtain. She shared a bedroom with two younger siblings and...

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Men in tailored suits and satin waistcoats, gold watches peeking out of their pockets, walked arm in arm with women in wide skirts ~ hooped, crinolined, elegantly sculpted. Their tight corsets tease each careful traipse, leaving traces of elegance and opulence... dotting the streets at Christmastime with exaggerated silhouettes. They kissed under mistletoe ~ hung in doorways, each kiss claiming a berry until none were...

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Comeback-Shirley, starting early, I'm the sparkle that teases night. Worship, the Madonna baby! Comeback-Shirley Foam hair curlers set loose coils tight. Strawberry cheeks, fans wish to see. Appearances, tilt the glass right. Put your sugar bowl out, missy. The world shall call you its sunlight. Stolen cradle, aren't you in glee? Comeback-Shirley...

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Benjamin Netanyahu, you once stood as a symbol of Israel’s resolve, but power gained through fear and manipulation is a flame that burns its master first. You rose through the ranks on speeches of security and pride, but history has already spoken— the tears of Gaza will not be washed away by silence. Every forty-five minutes, a child died, and the world watched— but the...

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Did not the Bird, warn us, by his airs? Fewer by day...more by night – the owls survive longer! Did not rodents warn us? Depleted by owls, they both now suffer. Better men open their eyes to Light – for, even swooping shadows, will not long survive such night…....

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They starved our bodies of love Then complain how our bones shake in fear They strip us of our dignity Then glare at us when we jave nothing to wear They take our souls Then question when they hear our screams in their dreams It's why when the wind fills their ears It sparks chills And the echoes...

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We dont have to use our voice to scream Because a voice isn't just words It's art, it's our presence, it's how we exist It's being unapologetically black Our presence is like the rain after a drought And the rain nourishes the ground It's like walking into a room and it's brought back to life Where once was darkness, has now been...

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I remember it very well. It was before the birth of email. It was a real 'show and tell, and It rings in my heart like a bell. Mankind has always found bigger And better ways to communicate. Over time and space, such avenues Have been greatly excellerated. In the early 70's, cell phones were large and rare, but landline phones were everywhere. Those landline...

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You wear a crown forged in centuries of silence, Not of gold, but of tears—each gem a wound, Each jewel a stolen breath from lands unnamed. The sun never set on your empire, Charles, But neither did its shadow. At seventy-three, you ascend a throne Built on the backs of broken nations. Malawi mourns not your reign, but its own hunger. India remembers...

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Once, they claimed to hold the torch, To light the world with truth and reason. But the West’s media empire— Was born not in truth, But in treason. From BBC’s royal scripts, To CNN’s manicured myths, From Fox’s fury-laced fables, To NBC’s polished distortions— They were trained, not to inform, But to perform For the empire's applause. Every lens tilted, Every headline coded, Every silence calculated— To shape the world In...

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Ring the bell-hop, how quaint Dial the Operator? – Translate! … Western Union’s clickety-clack, now faint alongside the sensory lure of wet paint All of these ~ today, ain’t ...

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