Long Unbroken Poems
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Sweet breeze of memory come blow the dust of time, thats settled in the conscience of a
sleeping mind,
awaken long lost dreams, that fell along the way, scattered are the ashes, of the life I
threw away,
send the wind of change, that my cobwebs be dispersed, remind me of the verse I learnt,
unbroken,unrehearsed.
"Douce brise de la mémoire déverrouiller cette porte verrouillé, que je mai retour à la
visite, je vais vous rappeler une fois de plus"
Sweet breeze of memory unlock this bolted door that I may return to visit, I'll Remember
him once more.
Douce brise de la mémoire les heures passent vite, si je suis toujours à revoir Puis j'ai
besoin de revenir rapidement, mon corps est tellement fatigué, je me Sens très vieux, et
les secrets que j'ai caché loin maintenant nécessité d'être informé
Sweet breeze of memory the hours quickly pass, if I am ever to revisit, then I need To go
back fast, my body is so weary, I am feeling very old, and secrets that I hid Away need
now to be told!
Form:
She walks with caution, her gaze cast low,
In a world where danger lurks, where can she go?
Her body, a battlefield not of her design,
Her dreams shattered, her innocence confined.
Must she live her life in silent dread?
Is freedom a right, or a luxury instead?
Her soul cries out beneath the weight,
Of abuse, of fear, of a cruel fate.
Bruised but unbroken, she yearns to be free,
To live without fear, as human as he.
Not a shadow, not an object, not prey—
But a child with the right to her own way.
What will it take for the world to see,
The girl child as more than her misery?
She bleeds, she breathes, she dreams, she feels,
Her humanity silenced, her freedom appeals.
No, she is not a victim by choice,
She has strength, she has a voice.
Let her rise, let her soar, let her be,
For the girl child is human—just like you, just like me.
To aerate, babble and procrastinate
decluttering man cave rubbish
welcoming this temperate
(Billy me) idle March thirtieth
tooth house sand nineteen
eventually to accomplish
sorting thru lifetime
worth miscellaneous
papered material former
rainforest, I banish
to the shredder repurposing
once upon a time
stately majestic humongous
dignified cub billed bearish,
yet stern silent taskmasters
razed forest mongers left blemish -
fueling the roaring engines
of western civilization
paper products service
material world feeding bookish
appetite, sans (ironic
knotty twist) printed
hot off the press bulletins,
bestsellers inform boyish
wordsmith, how vast
treeless tracts hasten
global abomination, chopping
degradation, lamentation... brownish
blotches encompass inert naked,
torchered, and zapped
originally pristine realms
overrun by sawyers brutish
Paul Bunyanesque (sporting
as good) fellas carved
cleared, and cropped enormous
swaths back when bullish
intruders displaced indigenous
peoples crowing manifest destiny
as mantra to appease expansionist
predilection frenzied cultish
zero sum game to annex
unbroken wilderness promulgating
feverish gold rush to demolish
wantonly scorching Earth,
whereby present day burgeoning
population irrevocably establish
ruination ushering ominous augury
permeating mine mortal mutterings.
Greece and Ethiopia have had unwavering and unbroken
bonds of friendship since ancient times.
Greece is the land of freedom and democracy, also one of the pillars
of worldwide civilization in all sectors
{philosophy, poetry , art etc.}
The great ancient Greek poet HOMER is frequently refereed to Ethiopia
in his masterpiece ILIAD.
Even the name Ethiopia comes from an ancient Greek word
{Aithiops} which means a sun-burnt face.
The source of the blue NILE is in Ethiopia, the only country
in Africa which was never colonized by western powers, with
its own ancient language:{Amharic} and history.
The predominant religion of Ethiopia is Christianity which was propagated
by Apostol Mathias. God Bless Greece and Ethiopia!!
They asked for a piece of my mind—
so I offered silence, wrapped in gold.
No rage, no clamor, no thunderclap,
just breath unbroken when the world turned cold.
Peace of mind isn't a destination,
but a pact with storms I’ve learned to outlast.
Not the absence of chaos—but grace,
in the moments I choose not to cast judgment, holding fast.
It's the stillness behind my steady stare,
the fire I tame, not the one I unleash.
It’s walking away when anger flares,
letting go of what I can’t reach, finding release.
I’ve stitched serenity from sorrow,
threaded calm through countless sleepless nights.
Peace, to me, isn't some distant tomorrow—
but daring to rest in fractured lights.
So if you want a piece of my mind,
you’ll find it in the way I pause,
in how I fold my fears like paper,
and whisper “soft” where there was “because.”
I’ll speak not to conquer, but to mend—
peace isn't passive, it’s power, my friend.
bliss manifest
first resisted
then accepted
finally awaited
breath by breath
thus arousing
within heart
an expectation
of benediction
by God bestowed
our anticipation
is a visualisation
memory induced
hoping our form
is bliss energised
in unending renewal
this subtle desire
is alright per say
yet it presupposes
that we’re this body
and not soul eternal
we also feel not
eternal light of Self
which is who we are
pulsating in singularity
wherefrom we descend
into this gross density
unless we fully embody
essence of our true Self
into organic form
holding steady awareness
in an unbroken continuum
we cannot affirm
that we are awake
I rage, my need for you bleeding helpless
tied, bound by these silken ropes of love
my cries will never reach your side, my life
over the music that deafens my heartbeats
I stand mute and solo without you
till we belong to each other
even if that destroys who you are
you will only belong to our love
even if that kills us...
There is a riot in my heart exploding me apart
the burning blood of your beauty razing reason's rampart,
defenses devised by decades of destructive love
surround my soul with swords sharpened on evil known of,
I need you to breech the war barrior, to rescue my red potential
break the black bricks of the sorrow wall with a woman's wherewithal,
we will pay Fate's ransom for union legend
with unbroken breaths of lovers impassioned -
A Collaboration From The Quills Of Bindu & Justin
What you see and hear must be traumatizing
For you and your devoted staff —
Defending souls accused of horrors
Against the very children they once were.
Children bound over as adults,
With minds still reaching for the light,
Unable to measure the gravity
Of the darkness they’ve entered.
It is Sunday morning, and you have chosen
Coffee over Wine or a Bloody Mary.
The phones are silent, the city hushed,
Sunlight soft across the files.
The bleached blonde attorney, weary yet steadfast,
You shoulder their sorrow, their guilt, their silence.
Justice is never clean,
Yet your heart remains unbroken.
There are cases that shatter belief,
And nights that deny you rest —
When innocence feels like a story told
By someone who no longer believes.
But mercy hides in your labor,
In each word spoken with care,
In the smallest gesture of grace
That no one sees but God.
Even when verdicts wound,
Even when truth feels blurred by fear,
The soul that still weeps for the broken
Is proof that goodness endures.
And on this quiet Sunday morning,
As light spills gently across your desk,
You are forgiven for your weariness —
You have chosen love disguised as law,
And that is holy work.
Respectfully,
The World is quickly changing
As old standards disappear.
There is suffering in the country
But nobody wants to hear.
Once we faced the World
Not quite on our own
The people of our Empire
Stopping us from being alone.
The plucky little island
That took up the fight
Almost defeated by an
Enemy’s military might.
The little boats of Dunkirk,
That indomitable fleet,
Saved a military rout
From being a total defeat.
Battered, bruised, unbroken
We survived to carry on
Regrouping to fight until
The enemy was gone.
Our proud little nation
Fought above its weight
Strong and firm against
Forces of terror and hate.
Where down the line did we
Turn into compliant donkeys
Willing to be led by thieving
Calculating cruel monkeys.
We should now be
All writhing in shame
For betraying those that died
Fighting in Freedom’s name.
I suppose we can only hope
There will in time come the time
We will make them pay for
The Sins of Class War Crime.
As they talk of breaking treaties
Abuse and insults being hurled,
Our nation’s prestige drops and we
Become laughing stock of the world.
[ Poet’s Note : This is the second of two poems personifying Truth ]
NATURE OF TRUTH : Part Two
Truth shot point blank through
the centre of her forehead
blood spurting, soiling fine furs of
humanoids at play with slick lies
and shallow Hansard words
trying to acupuncture Truth
Blood that stains and weeps and
weeps
blood that runs and will not hide
Truth collapsing in a heap in a corner
rise up again !
pulled firmly by the hair with wide
open fingers
Truth rise and rise and rise
dance with Courage
find amethysts in hard hearts of fear
cradle them to Moon for blessing
connect with fluffy clouds where little
girls see God
Truth ! be washed by midnight rain
plait yourself softly with invisible links
where choralists sing falsettos in
unbroken voices
Truth then waltzes with Love
women with baby curls taste
hot bread
Truth springs up again and again
She rises from oceans and
mountains forever and ever
Right here !
©GhairoDanielsPoetryandSong1990