Nature covered with green foliage
Spreading across forests and islands
Marked as Phyto lineage
Swaying, blooming...all pain it withstands!
A Lineage of Vultures from Hell
I crossed an ocean to unearth my roots,
To find the branches of my hidden tree.
Thirty-eight strangers wearing friendly suits,
Thirty-eight wolves who smiled to welcome me.
In that old village, secrets wore a mask,
Their cunning eyes disguised as open doors.
But stripping me was their intended task,
To leave me bleeding on their wooden floors.
"You're filthy rich," they hissed into the cold,
While robbing every treasure that I kept.
They traded blood for silver and for gold,
And showed no mercy.
They come softly~
not with footsteps,
but with the faint shift of air.
I feel them
in the way the light
rests on my shoulders.
My ancestors
move through the marrow of me,
lifting in a sunbeam,
They do not speak,
yet something in me listens~
a pulse, a pull, a quiet knowing.
I am made
of their courage,
their spirit and unfinished prayers.
I feel them gather~
a circle of presence,
a lineage of light.
The tree of life has roots to the beginning of time
infiltrating depths unfathomable
lost in the nebulae of bygone memories
the illusion of neat lines soon tangled in a fog
hiding stories obsolete and long forgotten
Diluted storytelling buried beneath fresh tales
and soon hazy with its clouded details
the feats out of mind fade into oblivion
facts turned to hearsay are cast aside
with stranded witnesses turned to dust
and players past and long forgotten
AP: 2nd place 2025
Submitted on May 17, 2025 to contest YOUR CHOICE R sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - Honorable Mention
I sit here with guilt and recent understanding.
I didn’t know what I didn’t know.
I sit here with remorse, and now I’m rebranding.
Because to live is to learn and to learn is it grow.
It is like I stepped in your shoes when I became a mother.
You were doing your best, one foot in front of the other.
They don’t know yet that I really don’t know.
But, to live is to learn and to learn is to grow.
Because one day they are here and the next they are gone.
In parenthood, there’s much more grief than what was led on.
You cradle and hold and put them to sleep.
Then you find yourself trying your best not to weep.
At times we wouldn’t speak, and at times, we would fight.
I don’t remember the last time I hugged you goodnight.
One day it stops and it hurts indescribably bad.
So many times, I just want to speak with my dad.
Time is precious but quick to pass by.
You deserve more credit than I ever provide.
These kids are my world, of the lengths I would go.
To live is to learn and to learn is to grow.
“…. It’s a deep thing to find out that you belong somewhere.”
Roots
Dirt
Black
Time
Roots
Drums
Feted
Tribe
Roots
That you belong somewhere, is a deep thing to find out.
Bill Marable 12/15/24
12:20 pm
A man loses his father
and adulthood begins
Bathwater draining
the baby within
A son who is sireless
new destiny’s child
Whose choice is to run
or to stand and beguile
Alone with his memories
one image sustains
The voice but a whisper
its spirit reclaimed
To carry the title
his lineage holds
A surname retendered
—new history untold
(The New Room: July, 2023)
I am a son of the verse and the word,
the spoken and written word...
I am the fruit of platonic love
between carnation and rose...
in truth I am made
of meat and flowers,
bones and dreams,
muscle, blood and truth,
and mostly I'm made
of poetic immateriality
that is poetry...!
my weary heart knows this is going to hurt
our ancestors, our sons, and daughters too
I feel the fangs of dogs ripping their shirts
the hoses of hatred drowning our roots
the hats we wear those imperial crowns
will silence doubt and reveal our lessons
to fight on both legal and sacred ground
the art of war with non-lethal weapons
should we stand still and simply bow our heads
believe our woeful lot better than some
let us not pause to weigh what they have said
spirits of freedom might deem this loathsome
their words, their blows will forever be flung
we of color must never still our tongues
Never forsake the lineage in which we
originated from because
the ancestors are watching us
Their eyes are on the sparrow
anticipating us to soar into
our excellence
Wash ourselves in their royalty
while remembering they were
kings and queens long before
they became slaves and strange fruit
Society wants to wipe the slate clean of
our heritage by pruning the limbs
of our family trees
waiting in the shadows for the
opportunity to kill it at the root
We cannot allow someone else's antidote
poison us with amnesia that may
cause us to forget the power
of our inheritance
We are much stronger
than they care to know
We must use our pens to flex the
muscle of our minds
Granting permission to build strength
enabling us to balance the truth
on our shoulders
Lets stand our ground and never fold
claim our titles as griots
and let our stories be told
It's up to us to lose the fear
Use the ink in our veins to
to go against the grain of
the lies they expect us to swallow
and washed down with our pride
--LaLa
©4-3-2020
Describing my lineage ,
I'm a son of
word and verse,
of the sword and the shell ...
I am the fruit of love
gestation of the rose and the carnation ...
I'm made of:
bones and flowers,
flesh and dreams
of muscles and truth,
but mainly I am
made of poetry ...!
lirics of the song EU CANTO below the URL
Eu canto
Fagner & Cecília Meirelles
do disco "Eu canto (Quem viver chorará)"
Eu canto
Porque o instante existe
E a minha vida está completa
Não sou alegre nem sou triste
Sou poeta
Irmão das coisas fugidias
Não sinto gozo nem tormento
Atravesso noites e dias
No vento
Se desmorono ou se edifico
Se permaneço ou me desfaço
Não sei se fico
Ou passo
Eu sei que canto e a canção é tudo
Tem sangue eterno a asa ritimada
E um dia eu sei que estarei mudo
Mais nada
here belowthe url
https://youtu.be/yJqrQk9Ol48
suggested song EU CANTO i sing by Fagner words from the poet Cecilia Meireles
forging
noble timeless art
brute strength and skill
reverence for the forces of fire
innate passion for working metal
precious knowledge passed down the ages
honoring with pride millennia of blacksmith ancestry
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Between a castle and a moat
One small goat
Strays too far, too long
But nothing happens
Yet scared stiff, the goat is scared stiff
To see this beast, this terrible monster
The medieval lands have made him out to be
What can this beast do to prove
There is beauty beneath his sharp teeth
Beauty behind his scales
Beauty beyond the smoldering ash belonging to the distant corner of the cave
This goat retreats and the animal escapes again
For the fleeing goat will bring enraged villagers
Local pillagers who think it’s an ultimate title gain
To slay the beast which breathes in coal and spews the hottest fire
But the beast, far from majestic, contains neither dark deeds nor twisted motives
He is not part of his parents’ disgraceful lineage
The violent overtaking and burning down precious fields and wildlife
He believes it to be intolerable, unimaginable
And if he could, he would change his complicated anatomy
And happily breathe water, become a different animal of peace
But this is a curse from a destructive dragon lineage
That refuses to stop haunting a mercy-filled being
Time takes age and does what it will
Man ages and wishes time to stand still.
There is infinite turning of the hands on a clock
As mortals we hear the constant tick-tock.
There is a human desire to leave something behind
Hoping our earthly possessions ease our greedy mind.
What is gathered on this planet of earth
Can not bring us back to our place of birth.
Helping others should be our lifetime goal
Not cluttering earth before you're put in a hole.
God gives us an ultimate rule
Love one another and not to be cruel.
If we really wish to leave something behind
Teach your children to give and to be kind.
Your legacy should not be what you can obtain
But what your lineage does each and everyday.
Discarded old car
Star on Grill
Still a Mercedes
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.