Long March on Poems
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Jump Start (( collaboration * SUSAN BURCH ))
by~ Poet D:
How did it come to this?
You and me down memory bliss..
Some where in between losing my self ..
I misplaced the dust remover off my shelf..
Now I will march on like a cheerful parade..
Smiling my big pearly whites, as you begin to fade...
I disguised the use, when you called me a broken down car..
Adjusting all the plugs under my hood, I reached in to far...
.
I touched and fondled every mound and tendency inside of me..
All my heart needed, was a bran new battery..
I found my own cure, reviving my broken heart disease..
Blocking the sunburn from jumping of my heart like a trapeze..
I got rocks stored in my pocket, that came with a guarantee..
Sustaining weight on my weakened knees, reassuring me warranty
***by~ SUSAN BURCH
That I will get through this, without you to drive
I have a map of the world, traced on my thighs…
You may have held the moon, but not anymore
There are millions of galaxies for me to explore …
Once I face the dark and horrible truth
That I didn’t like who I was, with you…
That’s why I shouldn’t be starving, for your attention
When all you gave me, were paltry inventions…
Instead I’ll wave bye, at my shriveled heart’s cost
And immediately stop sniffing, our love’s exhaust…
In time you’ll be nothing but a tumbleweed
A random thought I won’t even keep…
When I’m fully restored, you’ll be left in the dust
And I’ll be stronger than I ever was …
A Collaboration *Susan Burch
~MY COLLABORATION CONTEST~
I sit to ponder on my life and death,
knowing one day my memories will end.
As I approach my last days I don't want yesterday,
to be more important than tomorrow.
I don't want to relive the shades and shadows,
of what has passed.
How sad that would be, how empty that would be.
The temptation to do so is there, it's easy to believe,
I have lived enough,
and spend the last years of life resting and reflecting.
It's unfulfilling and has no sense of accomplishment.
So I'll march on, one slow step after another,
my face in the wind, my eyes facing forward,
until my final memory is my last breath.
She looked pretty at the Zebra crossing,
weaving slowly, her shampooed hair tossing,
cars stopped still, to allow her go across,
who wouldn’t stop to let a beauty pass!
She looked neither to her left nor her right,
body cutting out shape in pants bit tight,
eyes fixed on the messages on her phone,
tripping when side stepping a traffic cone.
She continued her walk on the pavement,
her gaze on phone, no other engagement,
people just getting out of her long strides,
moving out, leaning against walls on sides.
She will, let us pray, march on and reach home,
Walking in a dream with eyes on her phone,
Smart phone habits have made people road blind,
live in a cyber, not engage their mind.
a habit that has cost many their lives,
smart phones kill more now than do guns and knives,
when use road pay attention to surrounds,
watch each step well as your feet touch the ground.
not fashionable if on phone walking,
drivers, road users find it annoying,
drop habit, urge others to do the same,
can save lives, limbs, if this habit we tame!
Inelegant, the silence wakes and yawns,
pretending not to notice or to care;
while symphonies of chaos greet the dawn
and ashes of our Banner fill the air.
The few, with vacant visage cry the creeds
~march on with signs remastered from the old
in broths of propaganda where it breeds,
the willingly disposed in boredom's fold.
Onlookers pause and gasp in rapt surprise;
unruly hordes deface the hallowed halls,
like "Kristallnacht" they scare what they despise,
too late for recompense when conscience calls
or quell fallacious lectures as they wreak...
dumbfounded when the fruits of silence speak.
Slow and deliberate the drums march on,
Flooding the air with a sound,
Seducing the masses to obey every beat,
Commanding the masses to drown,
In the ritual of now, the ritual of float,
The rise up and grow like a spring,
Commanding the masses be free in the air,
Commanding to not even think,
And they throb and pulse, not slowing down,
They own what belongs in a breeze,
Bringing everyone here to the pinnacle of love,
Then dropping them all on their knees,
The drums they thump with everyone’s heart,
From tight to sexy to slow,
They rise and fall taking all on a ride,
When the band does a drumming solo.
The end of an era has come and gone
Right before our eyes;
With the man who first stepped on the moon
Having said his last goodbyes.
While tens of thousands of engineers,
Scientists and lovers of space
Helped lift him up and get him there,
No one else can take his place.
From his childhood to the final countdown;
Separation to “The Eagle has landed,”
There was something unique about Neil Armstrong
Who never once felt lost or stranded.
While planting America’s Stars and Stripes
And walking in lunar dust,
Not hardly for himself alone
But for every one of us.
Seemingly, so long ago
But then again, not long at all;
America never felt so good
And we all walked ten feet tall.
When Neil returned
The fires burned inside our homes and hearts;
As the promise of a new age dawned
We believed in a brand new start.
From earth to sky we’d learned to fly
And Neil Armstrong took us there;
First of his kind to sail through time
And walk where no one else dared.
The end of an era has come at last
As time and history march on;
And some men’s marks are made to last
Not least of all, Neil Armstrong’s.
Taliban march on,
Kabul falls into the hands of barbarians
As
Chaos and death their steps follow.
-
Mothers mourn their children
Bereaved wives grieve the death of their husbands
Panic is instilled in every heart and mind of
Each freedom-loving Afghan.
-
Desperation and fear
Slowly but persistently establish their depressive dominion
Dragging society into the abyss of ignorance
By annihilating human rights and freedom of expression, and
At the same time
Depriving women, among other things, the privilege of education
For
The new despots wish to weave the web of their regime in
Total darkness so as to fit the color of their
Unenlightened souls.
© Demetrios Trifiatis
20 August 2021
*When the Taliban ruled Afghanistan from 1996 to 2001, the government banned music and barred women from attending school or leaving their homes without a male escort. In 2001, the U.S.
**According to a United Nations report, the Taliban were responsible for nearly 40 percent of civilian casualties in the first six months of this year, more than any other party to the conflict in Afghanistan.
KINGDOMS OF POWER
man - with his little sphere of influence,
claims mighty power, in his smallish hands.
mini empires, like stars from the universe,
like microscopic atoms - they march on -
stomping, squeezing, squashing, squelching - mere men.
they think, it will shut them up, dismember time.
movies hail them with majestic symphony,
shuffling through narrow streets – clanging harsh.
~~
on quiet mule, (a little braying – perhaps),
a humble man, a meek child bride – travel.
heaven’s spotlight upon them - star of Bethlehem!
angels gaze, wisemen seek, shepherds shake,
as a virgin gives birth to a unique boy
one that, if he chose, could play with this earth.
this infant king is bigger than life itself,
“Adam’s breath” received from His own spirit.
while little men sleep, in castles of gold,
the sinless Savior lies in a manger.
~~
the puppeteer pulls the strings, supposing
he’s in control - chops wood, prepares nails -
draws blood, sweat and tears. on stage, all appears
lost. hope is buried. a huge stone is rolled,
blocking entrance to the holy of holies.
but wouldn’t you know, God can tear it in two!
innocent blood was spilled on this spoiled earth
claiming it back, redeeming us, and pow…
the power and majesty of the living God
shows up, shows off. Light raises the dawn.
~~
once again, He is quiet, biding His time
giving kingdoms a chance to change their minds.
to arrive at this conclusion – you must be saved -
lest you die, an eternal death! not wanting
anyone to perish, He holds back his sword.
if our tongues would do the same, and believe,
confess, instead of curse, just believe, and
be saved, because His majesty WILL BE praised.
Kim Rodrigues © 2016
In the light of the South where the sun burns bright,
We march for freedom, we march for right.
With each step forward, we push through pain,
Dreaming of a world where love will reign.
The streets are filled with glimmer of hope,
As we gather strength to help us cope.
In the face of hatred, we stand tall,
United we rise, divided we fall.
My children ask me, "Why must we fight?"
I tell them, "For justice, for what is right."
For the dream of equality, we strive each day,
In the land of the free, we pave our way.
Though the road is long and fraught with fear,
Our voices echo, loud and clear.
From Selma to Montgomery, we march on,
In the name of freedom, until dawn.
I am what I am because of God and His grace*.
He defines my being and shapes my becoming.
Guarding me verily with His constant presence
He, my Saviour, secures me forever from hell.
As my Lord strengthens my faith that looks unto Him
Toward faithful service I march on midst trials.
Despite turmoil in His entrusted ministry
I cling to Him, glowing by His goodness' radiance.
While seeking my Master first and His righteousness
My heart in sweet communion esteems Him dearly.
He directs my steps thru His enlightening Word
His precepts illumine me for holiness’ walk.
Toward reaching-out triumph my great Guide leads me...
Perfecting my life I offer for His honour.
*1Corinthians 15:10 "But by the grace of God I am what I am: and his grace which was bestowed upon me was not in vain..."
February 22, 2019