Long Paraded Poems
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Family love is born in little rooms,
around sofas, settees, dinner plates,
with paternal bond that strengthens and grooms,
unswerving link that lasts till heaven’s gates!
We were such family in a French town,
traditional, true, religious us four,
mother was good at making wedding gowns,
father a decorator ran paint store!
Sister and I watched German troops on streets,
Tuesday August year nineteen forty three,
parents held us close, could hear their heartbeat,
that was the last day we would all be free!
Dragged on to street by the Nazi soldiers,
our father was punched kicked and beaten blue,
we wept helpless, clung to mother’s shoulders,
that was the last of our father we knew!
Pulled away from mother and Sis I cried,
screaming imploring, no mercy, no heart,
that day for me when humanity died,
was day my family was torn apart!
Packed in a train suffocating with stench,
alone defeated waited journey’s end,
with dead and dying that made stomach wrench,
four days of thirst and suffering to spend.
I remember that train to Auschwitz well,
journey that destroyed many lives like mine,
where our love and hope to tyranny fell,
to death we were paraded in a line!
Six months past we heard exchange of fire,
that made evil enemy pack and run,
We were all rescued from behind barbed wire,
was still hope and goodness under the Sun!
When God smiles he smiles generously well,
lifts suffering souls from bottomless pit,
That day he was smiling we could all tell,
his eyes perhaps gleaming and face well lit!
Each life and hope with dignity restored,
we were treated, bathed clothed and given food,
In room of people saw face I adored,
sobbing with outstretched arms my mother stood!
United with mother back to my house,
and years of togetherness we would share,
on the wall hangs our striped prisoner blouse,
to tell trappings of hatred and its snare!
The train to Auschwitz took many to death,
guilt ridden, to and fro ran that train,
but tracks remain, hate may creep back in stealth!
train to Auschwitz should never run again!
Premier contest 6th placement
Written 09/April/2021
10 syllables each line (PS syllable count)
based on a true story as related by a 93 yr old Auschwitz survivor
The last train to Auschwitz poetry competition
Kai Michael Neumann sponsored
Take me back to the days
Where the feel of texture and distinguishing colors among Africans didn't matter
Where the only word was black, and not pale or darker
Where the only weapon was loyalty upto royalty actually smarter
Where mother toung superiority excelled the rest was after.
Where rituals and ceremonies were significant in culture
Where oral traditions activities was a preservation of history.
Where inclusivity wasn't done based on tribe, status or age
Where inspiration and education was passed from generation to generation through storytelling.
Where people performed rather than spoke
Where the media was the speaker's tone, volume, and cadence
Take me back to the days
Where people did not blame nationality, ethnicity,
culture, economics and education
Where there was no colonial domination
Where there was no concept of slavery, racism or discrimination.
Where Africa was rich in culture and not the fallacy of primitive and a backward jungle
Where Africa was peaceful and not a race with guns and violent.
Where shouting am black and proud wasn't important because color didn't matter.
Where respect for elders remained an unbroken cornerstone in african culture
Where birth, marriage and burial rites was honored.
Welcome to the days
Where exporting and importing of cultures have become the trend
Where cultures travel through deserts, cross trade routes and through immigration borders
Where exchange disregards our notions of geography and race.
Where virtues such as hospitality, empathy, courtesy and respect is long gone
Where the only thing left are byproducts of culture.
Where multiculturalism has faded and everone hails on becoming one
The richness is not in Africa looking like Europe
What makes the world beautiful is in the diverse contributions
Welcome to the days
Where culture is paraded on an image of drum beating
Where media's notion is dancing naked or eating bush meat
Where in the midst of it all culture lost its definition
Where there is no importance in defending a territory with no boundaries.
Where technology dominated our land and mind
The struggle lies in reclaiming what is rightfully ours
I refuse to fall and cramble because I'm for the idea of sameness.
In the mind is where it all starts
I put no blame on culture, not my affliction.
Depression vol 13 ~ Loveless
How dull I feel, writing of the same
eternal misery like all those before me;
All my fellow poets, or the regretful
artists lyrics, that forever seem to plea,
As fickle as a coin toss, as
rare as the solar eclipse,
If you happen to lose, the
agony as brutal as warships,
Still no matter the price, I still yearn
desperately to gain the magic promised in this prize,
However, I can't help but doubt that
its all nothing but naively held lies,
The concoction of soul mates and love
at first sight; just whimsical, misplaced hope,
Still wishing of knights in armour,
whilst modern men just cuss and grope,
Such an alien concept, watching all the
connections others seem to effortlessly make,
Maybe I should be grateful my delicate
soul doesn't dare risk this stake,
Yet, feeling the even slightest of
butterflies, it instantly quells my nihilism,
Ignorantly forgetting disastrous past
attempts, the causality to my cynicism,
But reality eventually always kicks in,
brutally extinguishing my daydreams,
Reconfirming this simply will never be,
slipping me between the two extremes,
Either miserably longing for
the simplest of attention,
Or drowning in loneliness,
isolated like in permanent detention,
Forced to absorb the suffocating
joy paraded around by other couples,
Knowing for me this shall never be,
bitterly unclenching my knuckles,
Like my demons would ever allow
me true happiness to ever take place,
As if I would ever be ahead,
in this or any other rigged race,
Maybe I'm just never to understand
the complex torture that is romance,
Doomed to continously be
discounted at any first glance,
Turning stupidly, jaded with envy,
I still attempt to appear remorseful,
Hearing friends petty quarrels,
trying not to be too forceful,
I guess it shall remain an unsolved mystery,
whether I will ever grasp it,
Leaving the question for my psychic,
but doubting I shall ever ask it,
Trying my best to wish all those
happy partners well in their peaceful bliss,
But just attempting to forget the
trauma of my dreadful first ever kiss,
Wondering if I can find meaning in
my life without this missing part,
Striving to find contentment,
even with the gaping hole in my heart.
Sleepy eyes awake to crashing sounds on window panes
Creeping animals scramble around bristling forests nesting for a spot
while thousands of mad ants crusade in barren fields storing food in tiny plots
Along the busy high way meandering trees parted wide asphalted roads
and thick wavering clouds peak above shrouded path waiting for it to start.
Countless loaded trucks speed down bending roads honking horns
forewarning oblivious travelers not to take a chance
In the center of town busy shoppers paraded the crowded plaza
Ignoring beckoning dark clouds pressing upon them from pregnant skies.
Laughing children swing high on Ferris wheels
grown men tossed up down expanded roller coasters
screaming out of control
amused with laughter.
Unforeseen the gigantic Ferris wheel halted
And a terrifying sound emerged from beneath
Stealing the happy children’s delightful laughter
thick black clouds overshadows
the sounds get louder and confusion drenches the streets
dust and debris flutter in the atmosphere
A thunderous sound spits venomous vengeance
whipping and lashing
whistling and barking
and maneuvers the busy town
it dances from city to city
Wrenching up a destined path
disseminating people all over the streets
But the terrified children grip tightly
Kept calm and ride out the raging storm
©2013 Christine Phillips
Right when I thought I had figured things out,
FEAR sauntered in and introduced DOUBT.
The twins came over, DISMAY and DESPAIR.
Then APATHY appeared. Does anyone care?
DISGUST and DISDAIN knocked on my door.
DISILLUSIONMENT laughed at what was in store.
ENVY and PRIDE cried unanimous cheers.
DOOM and DESPERATION were invoking my fears.
DEFIANCE brought a sign reading, “Come watch him fall.”
A gruesome and grotesque masquerade ball.
A party complete full of Demons and Ghouls.
This chaotic nightmare was void of all rules.
I ventured outside away from the noise,
despondent by actions that EVIL employs.
I sat on the porch with my hands on my face.
The stench of DESTRUCTION dispensing DISGRACE.
I cried out, “Dear Lord, what more can I do?”
I jumped when a voice said, “It’s all up to you.”
I gathered my senses and offered a seat
to an elderly woman, who lived down the street.
“That’s quite a party you seem to be throwing.”
I nodded my head, “It just keeps on growing.”
She leaned in and whispered, “They run in packs,
carefully planning these full-scale attacks.”
I asked her the reason they all showed up here?
She said, “You empowered the illusion of FEAR.
Without you to help them, their power is weak.
They gather up strength from words that you speak.
What you don’t understand, regardless it’s true,
GOD gave authority over Demons to YOU.”
Something made sense in what she had said.
She changed the perceptions I had in my head.
So, I stormed in the house with COURAGE and PEACE,
screaming, “It’s over! This party must cease!”
CONVICTION paraded as FAITH filled my heart.
In the name of JESUS, I demanded they part!
Their revelry turned into howling and shrieks.
A bellowing ANGST echoed out from the peaks.
They whined and moaned but followed command.
HOPE cleansed the room and TRUTH took a stand.
My new found friend was no longer there.
I shouted out “Thank You!” into the night air.
Hearing my commotion, “For what?” asked my wife.
“Your church-lady friend may have just saved my life.”
“You mean GRACE?” she questioned, “Didn’t you know?”
“GRACE went to heaven almost two weeks ago.”
I took her hand and we knelt down to pray,
thanking GOD for the POWER in WORDS that we say.
What’s In The Urn
Strangers offered me to join them in a drink
I met them on a mountain edge while skiing
They seemed like friendly normal people then
So what could happen in a simple cabin?
Finding that which is not there or vanquished
What is there that cannot be perceived?
Placed upon the mantel piece are ashes in the cabin
Brass vase, a receptacle for lost souls sits in repose
A death vase to glare at over cognac
By the sober flames cast by
A fire place glow observed in action
Liquid spirits pour out their poison
In the cozy living room inside the cabin
Drinks alone cannot remove this feeling of distraction
The urn is piercing through my soul
People belong in cemeteries you know
With all due respect for the dead
Scatter them at sea when they‘re deceased
Not paraded around in gloom to cause unease
Or as a center piece for living rooms
I’m not relieved to find it is a lizard on the shelf
To be exact, an exotic iguana family friend entombed
And to assume that fact makes this matter optimal
I beg to differ on that point and voice my opinion later
There must be a plot of ground outside
Or toilet somewhere to flush it down
But better left unsaid, as they are bereaved about the death
And I am their invited guest
Iguana tried consuming the family’s cat
Another favorite pet I guess
It is surmised, that’s how it met its end
Wound up expired inside the urn
The receptacle was there and going nowhere on its own
I swear it follows me from room to room
By embers glow and ash, shadowing my every move
A brass smile casting off the urn, leaving me concerned
I could not take my leave
The container followed me
So I waited, fixated on the thing
Is it coming back to life to eat more bugs or me?
Finding that which is not there
Is easier in the dark
Rising to the occasion of the day that breaks
I must escape the premises to continue skiing
Into the frozen world outside I fly
With no discernible signs or paths to lead or learn
I get away, no time to say good-byes or find my way
Never again will I say; what’s in the urn
**~~**
The balmy summer breeze
Gently caresses the harvest saffron moon
While it dreams memories of autumn’s golden red kiss
Trees are shedding their emerald green summer tresses
Kindly kissing the Earth as their garments fall gently below
And flowers have shed their vivid colorful dresses
As crimson amber leaves gently anoint the ground for show
While Summer sheds her beautiful clothes -
Mother Nature lovingly seduces her to dream
She's kissed the shore with her elegant colorful attire
She has painted the world with her exquisite apparel
So now it's time for her yearly seasonal retire
She paraded us with her resplendent painted scenes
Blessed the birds in their angelic symphony of songs
So now -it’s time for her to drink the dreams of slumber
Taking the cup of restful sleep - is now where she belongs
She asks the moon to wait patiently...
For her splendid colorful return
When she'll paint the world with her radiant painted tresses
Where once more her regal colors will burn
She'll brush the Earth in regal glorious colors
Dressing up again in her brilliant, picturesque dresses
As the ruby red blaze of autumn begins to kiss the Earth
With her dazzling hues of gold and coral valor
But before she goes...
She gently reaches out with her one last caress...
Softly whispering as she sweetly kisses the moon
”It’s time now for fall - it’s time for me to undress”
She softly breathes her dulcet ending tune...
"Goodnight", she gently whispers ...
"I’ll see you soon Mr. Moon
Please...will you wait for my return?
Quietly - she drifts into her splendid, peaceful dreams…
Slumbering peacefully -
Safely harbored in Mother Nature’s loving arms
As mellow zephyrs gently caress autumn's waiting whispers
While the moon drizzles its shimmering dusty charms
Serenading nature with his soft silvery tune
As this luminous gleaming Luna Mister
Cordially opens his welcoming hands
To September's colors of orange and golden browns
Awaiting the arrival of dancing petals
As he gently embraces autumn's leaf draped lands
Next he’ll greet the season’s sister
From the pristine silverblue Northern Isles...
Awaiting dancing ivory snowflakes he'll cheerfully greet winter
With his warm welcoming golden smile
Found this old poem today. Written when I was young and thought the world could change if enough humans just saw the Light.
I then did not know, that the Light must be sought and embraced if any MEANINGFUL AND LASTING CHANGES EVER OCCURS AT ALL.
Shall Mankind Ever Stop Repeating Insane Actions
Thousand years distance, Hope's Truest of Truths cheered,
in its abundance within hearts seeking only peace
Yet there also, darkest forces played loose at night
bestowing grave doubt and aches upon mankind
Amidst this chaos, peace became a lost ghost
war raced in to fill that sad and empty space
When apathy won, death became a ghastly meadow
as dancing dark demons paraded forth and jeered,
Thousand years to come, shall Hope find a repeat
where black shadows invade to destroy more lives
Never say never, for evil sails upon blackest of seas
death lurks under malignant waters set to destroy
Shall we again in arrogance welcome such Dark
raging mad in ravenous flesh destroying appetites
Or will some saving angel travel here to then appear
and our embraced insanity, with true light defeat!
Thousand years distance, Hope's Truest of Truths cheered,
in its abundance within hearts seeking only peace
Yet there also, darkest forces played loose at night
bestowing grave doubt and aches upon mankind
Amidst this chaos, peace became a lost ghost
war raced in to fill that sad and empty space
When apathy won, death became a ghastly meadow
as dancing dark demons paraded forth and jeered,
Thousand years to come, shall Hope find a repeat
where black shadows invade to destroy more lives
Never say never, for evil sails upon blackest of seas
death lurks under malignant waters set to destroy
Shall we again in arrogance welcome such Dark
raging mad in ravenous flesh destroying appetites
Or will some saving angel travel here to then appear
and our embraced insanity, with true light defeat!
R.J. Lindley,
March 22nd, 1973
Old Note- MAN'S CURSE IS HE IS DOOMED TO REPEAT, TO REPEAT, TO REPEAT HIS ACCURSED EVIL AND CALL IT ENLIGHTENMENT.
New Note Today( 44 YEARS LATER)
- MAN'S CURSE IS HE IS DOOMED TO REPEAT, TO REPEAT, TO REPEAT HIS ACCURSED EVIL AND CALL IT ENLIGHTENMENT.
A prudent man walked intoxicatedly inside the temple gate
He sits on the door steps and hang his head shamefully
between his legs and whistle a somber tune.
The skillfully crafted temple hoisted on the outskirt of town
Once served as a pinnacle of hope now stands empty exposing signs of doom.
Thousand of spiritual warriors, carnal minded and material minded sinners
once paraded the corridors of the disfigured temple
Bathing in the spirit and dancing vigorously to musical songs.
I watched him lamenting in grief unable to hold back the tears
He held his hands towards the heavens and cried out loudly in despair.
Suddenly the day breaks ironing guilt upon shameless faces
Mocking perishing souls, smothering wounded hearts
And repudiating punctured bleeding vessels in the pews.
The blistered irony resonates from the pulpit
Spewing liquor, intoxicating believers and driving away strangers.
Age old rocks buried deep beneath the kingdom of doom
playing rock and roll at the piano and mumbling scores of honor.
It dribbles and drops, dribbles and drops until it finally made a stop.
Dozens of mighty men hang high up on the pulpit
Filthy hands, disdained hearts and treacherous ways.
They have blemished the pulpit and mutilated the pew.
Sin drapes like gangster in suits crawling under skirts
riding on collars ejecting deceptive agony
in the pews and turned the congregation into a bitter gall.
I sat in the pews for years listening to their stories
watching the endless drama pushing and shoving
bad mouthing and back stabbing and them praising their God
While unseemly retribution creeps silently upon their doorsteps.
Blinded by their own tyranny frighted by their own thoughts
Sunday after Sunday they flock the temple seeking for something that wasn't there
Suddenly a strange sensation ripped through the atmosphere
Pulling saints off their feet
And scattering material minded people in the streets.
©2014 Christine Phillips
About my great grandma it’s told
That her heart never grew old or cold
I cannot keep this incident on hold
Wherever I am, I always unfold
Her counsel freely she has sold
Many consider her tips as gold
Several souls she did mould
While others claim she’s very bold
I never believe what others say
Unless witnessed in my own way
I was aged thirteen then
For me, her farm-house treasured fun
I wore a chain of gold
Exquisite piece of unique mold
I paraded with this golden ware
Unwilling to remove it anywhere
On a particular day
Everything did look gay
A stranger with her did converse
His looks and thoughts were diverse
At home, there was no other member,
Except great grandma and me, I vividly remember
She at length could talk
But without crutches could not walk
That stranger threw a sinister look
At the costly chain around my neck
Her seventh sense foretold
The impending danger on hold
Her life on earth was very long
Experience titled her ‘wise and emotionally strong’
Suddenly she called out my father’s name
I stood perplexed unaware of her game
I knew my father was far away
Preaching in a remote village that day
Yet thought, “what’s she prating anyway”
Perhaps my father returned some other way
I wondered with my mouth being shut
Until that stranger left our hut
I turned right, left, north and south
Before I could open my mouth
Then my great grandma smiled.
“Thank God you kept quiet child
He wanted to snatch your chain
And run away with his gain.
His intent I could not convey
But before he could have his way
I called your father to keep him away
As I expected, he ran away.”
Through God’s wisdom she did act
Thwarting his plan saved my chain intact
Through this incident I knew
A wonderful lesson old yet new
Bold people sometimes do act strange
Yet, keep danger away from their range
Examine elder’s words without haste
Heed their counsel, wisdom you will taste,
Fruitful then your life shall be
Forever your face will carry glee.