Long Neolithic Poems
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If we could look back to those neolithic times,
When early man would walk and roam.
There was a need for some kind of leadership
Or hierarchy, whether away or at home.
My guess is that they looked to the biggest or
Strongest, not necessarily the wisest of men.
As they hunted and forged for survival,
While their numbers would grow in the den.
This growth would soon become too much for
One leader, no matter how strong.
So this hierarchy developed new branches,
Giving powers to others, right or wrong.
As this expansion would eventually reach millions,
The demands on leadership was put to the test.
And many became corrupted by their power,
Yielding to no one beneath on a quest.
While this power has manifest differently,
Generally God or great wealth were at the core.
Leaving the barbaric that were of novel faith,
To the masses and silent poor.
For those that would cling to their power,
History may provide answers to lend.
Since rebellion is often what looks forward,
Targeting the powerful they no longer defend.
This is where hope must be held upon wisdom,
To lessen the greed that surrounds mankind.
Because power requires equal responsibility,
Where it's not horded, leaving others behind.
Stonehenge is a famous monument in Britain
a prehistoric mystery, architecturally sophisticated
built in stages, the first part built 5000 years ago
the unique Neolithic stone circle about 2500 BC
it is thought to be build by Druid Celtic high priests
and used for sacrificial ceremonies in their time
also thought to be a place for burials of the dead
it was created by people who left no written record
some of the stones are called ringing rocks, acoustic
for when struck they make a loud clanking sound
it has always been a mystery- never quite explained
The Georgia Guidestones are a monument in Gerogia, USA
made of huge granite slabs erected in 1980, planned for 20 years
built by R.C. Christian on a five acre site later given to Georgia
it is a set of guidestones inscribed in eight languages
its purpose to function as a compass, calendar and clock and guide
engraved with things like "Prize truth-beauty-love-seeking harmony ...."
some of the ten guide lines are not as acceptable to people
engraved in the eight languages on each individual slab
since erected conspiracy theories have abounded
the slabs have been defaced many times with graffiti
For me there is little to compliment each other
except they each are both made of stones
in a circular formation
and they both symbolize something
Stonehenge is really, really old and a mystery
the Georgia Guidestones build in 1980 with a clear meaning
so, in my mind they are separate monuments
_______________________
October 21, 2021
Poetry/Free Verse/Stonehenge and Georgia Guidestones
Copyright Protected, ID 10-1398-714-21
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
For the Standard contest, Georgehenge Stone Cold Mind Reflect
sponsor, Joe Maverick, Judged 11/28/2021
Fifth Place
Squirts of pure wool are soaring above,
I wallow in the stand of a Neolithic sky,
Actively growing while being inventive,
As a kaleidoscope, mind and body sway.
A striving act is akin to reviewing a theory,
A wish that is an abstract burden of making,
I feel lifted as it drifts toward me gently,
Usher me to land if I quite am reverting.
A wish is just the onset, the first domino,
Ponder or crave, then heave your space,
Stars that twinkle always flicker modulo,
And every plea I convey is given a place.
Those goals lead to two distinct tracks,
Ways of rest are shrewd, fixing then fealty,
When I rally into the azure, I ignite sparks,
What will my wish be? A flying start for me
My intention might be for a world treaty,
What if hunger did not exist in real life?
What toward kids who never die hungry?
What if all plagues abort without strife?
Or that hate crimes would simply fall?
Conflicts and lives lost would subside,
One star sparkle stronger at nightfall,
Its silver hue gleams the dull sky wide.
A well, a vague wish, or a ripped toy?
Sunk ship? An ideal at our disposal?
Mystery? Renewal? A dupe decoy?
Holy jar? A hope? The nip of an apple?
The candle wish was agreed eternally,
Aside from one, may all wishes come true,
Thus, you will have plenty to aim skilfully,
Fine fortune is a result of effort subdue.
2nd Place Contest Winner
Written: May 30, 2022
If only my wish would come true Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
I was told Jews were colonists and white
I wondered how to test if that was right
So I looked up genes, a simple approach but bright
Found Jews are at least half Canaanite.
This was found by looking at more than one Neolithic mound.
Bodies, bones, before the Iron age, DNA could be found
I bet my know-it-all debater hadn't thought of looking at that
He looks at debate as throwing me on the mat.
Who belongs in Israel is an ongoing fight
Interestingly, the Arabic speakers are also part Canaanite
But the relationship with Jews is uneasy at best.
Still, there was a way to test.
Europe's prehistory can be tested too
Most residents died, we look for a clue
5000 years ago, some evidence it was disease
Eurasian steppe peoples took over the keys
If you admire Stonehenge, please know
The people who built it had nowhere to go
Most of their descendants were gone by 2000 B.C
No one at fault, seek the truth and be free.
Bagpipes in short high sounding squeals
that loudly play to the ears appeal
some haunting distant melodic foreboding malaise,
stretching across an isle of green-blue ways,
freed open and gingerly
along the lochs and rivers Clyde, Tay, Tweed, and Dee;
a glistening jewel of history unshelved
with ghosts, monsters, fairies, and elves
upon the southern shore of the Bay o' Skaill swells,
over the West Mainland parish of Sandwick's silent bells,
the Neolithic village of Skara Brae - indelible granite white
Orkney's most-visited ancient relic sites;
islands set apart where the Scottish bagpipes sing
of the clan's immortal heart on the wing;
the lull and lore of older memories fades and wilts
like colors sewn within the Tartan kilts
Glasgow and Edinburgh ring truly filled
as kilts swing in the whistling wind unstilled,
"We’re a’ Jock Tamson’s bairns!"
cries aloud in wails and shrills of Scottish yarns;
come ye rustic castles and pastorals
listen to the swish and swirls, legends rural,
in the rush of bagpipes and flaring kilts
along the cobblestones of Donegal dark silt
and all the island shores gleaned
greetings from the Scottish lore imaginings.
Julia Ward's contest
Theme of Scotland
3/17/21
Riotous revellers' laughter drifts up from their apricot lit late night haunts, four cafes are notoriously avoided venues for overindulgent consumption of alcohol.
Across the street, from my thirtieth floor apartment window, remote portrait of bodies bent enthralled over their beers,
toads on stools at mushroom stem tables.
Flicker of forbidden recognition crosses my cortex,
- I'm a resident of Broadwater Tower now.
Unstated policy prohibits proximity with riff raff.
Our bar ensures we wear careful attire,
floor gleams mirror marble.
Chrome and cracked leather oud absorbs expensive scents.
Ladies laughter upscale conflicts the low fading mens' vocal.
Tipsy sensation enhanced by deck docked
rolling prestigious flagpole chiming yachts.
Over the road, neolithic neon signs post grotesque cafe names,
Salivate, Green Grotto among them.
Customers come from squat squashed suburbs,
five minute drive away.
Dive bar dark sparks alcoholic amphibians unremarkable bravado.
January holiday season sees sardines huddled heartily under awnings, abandoning next morning necessity.
24th February 2023
151 words
Written for Contest: Four Cafes
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Wiltshire is a lovely place too be
A county with plenty of history
Neolithic rocks from north to south
You can even see a white horses mouth
With walks over undulating ground
Find the mystery of the giants mound
You can see where the soldiers train
On the expansive Salisbury Plain
With white horses carved into the hill
Walk around them enjoy the thrill
If you are not able to do the walks
Visit the heritage centers hear the talks
But if all else fails jump into the car
You can easily see them from afar
No queuing required and it's free
Come to Wiltshire and you will see
Stonehenge, Avebury stones too name but afew
I guarantee you will go phew
Ingenuity of the people before
Its amazing, it will not bore
Moving those rocks that weigh a tonne
Without machinery just father and son
Carving horses into those chalky hills
Showing us, all thier artistic skills
So visit Wiltshire and see these sights
Plenty to do from morning to night
Let the country air cover your face
Do this slowly it's not a race
Enjoy your trip to this county
Paradise Yes without the bounty
Meet the locals and have a chat
Enjoy a cider you can't beat that
Along the memory lane,
Walking, Neolithic Mesopotamians!
A potter pioneering the first wheel stone,
The wooden wheels under the chariots rolling down!
The Wheel rolling up and down endorsing circle of life!
Accelerating the pace time to time!
The invention of wheel,
An innovation of mobility,
Like the planets,
Computer disk on desk,
The plastic wheel of IT era,
A solar symbol rotating technology!
Wheel,
The wisdom of all time in the direction of civilization,
Simply from minds of Neolithic men,
Wheel,a vehicle,
Travelled from the forgotten Mesopotamia-
A village deemed of Globe,
To the unseen Global village,
An adventure to reach any time,any where!
Wheel,
Took the burden of feet to it's shoulders,
If not wheels,
Wings,the answer is the question!
Where?
Digging the layers of layers of wounded Mesopotamian soil,
Tracing the resting soul,
The pioneering potter,
To offer his long pending royalty!
A written account (that incorporates some
self directed hyperbole) of this veritable stranger
now appears before your screen. Soon
after reading this message, the neighbors
might discern a blood curdling series
of (hyena-like) shrieking screams.
No worry. That would be the mating call
of the hairy Harris mama bear.
Ready! Set! Click!
A scary reflection greets me whenever
I summon up enough steely courage to take
a sneak peek into the mirror. Before
spider lines start to appear across the
shiny surface and subsequent cracks
and fissures dissolve the glassy surface
these deux hazel colored, myopic be
spectacled eyes quickly absorb a most
frightful countenance and visage.
That near legendary and trademark feature
of longish, wavy and brown straggly hair
seems to fill the entire view. Hidden among
avant garde rhapsodic bohemian, Cro-Magnon,
Neolithic, non-every-man style of un-styled
non dread full locks (interspersed with silver follicles
indicative of acquired worry fighting off
garden variety prehistoric creature) can be discerned
a brutish, nasty and short proto-human with
high forehead, which allows, enables and provides
more skin surface to bang against wall when frustrated.
Form:
I did not think you knew what an azimuth was, I said to Guy.
“I am not a Neolithic,” he told me with a sniff, I know why…
Some people misjudge this brilliant child of two months past twelve.
His mind goes where others have never had the chance to delve.
What do you use it for? I asked, testing him just a bit.
“to install satellite dishes,” he said. He is a precocious little chit.
We were at the Wambuul river where the Casuarina trees grow.
Not an elegant place, but it suited us down to each toe.
Guy suggested knapping a bit of flint while we were here.
I had some of my tools so I said “of course, why not? where?”
His mind was lightyears away, for he had his brain in a book.
Reading about quasars, for his mind grabs knowledge like a hook.