Citizens Are
By the numbers,
1,2,3... count them all you see.
From here and there and everywhere,
we are one.
America.
The land of plenty.
But what does that mean?
There is a story,
and a truth,
and freedom on paper...
that still waves
high above... in the air,
encircling her flag.
Men, women, and children
they came from every land.
Some traveled by boats,
road horses and even ran rails.
They took steamships...
sailboats, and longboats,
as passengers,
and some by chains,
unwillingly taken,
sold by their own kind,
into evil,
tricked and traded,
none spared.
They all had their own reasons,
one way or another...
but they knew together,
they were made better as a whole.
America,
the land of the free,
the brave, and heroic.
The ones that jump into the fire,
when trouble draws near.
The ones that know that faith,
has no fear at all,
"In God We Trust"
more than just words,
a way of life,
a way of living,
a way of being,
all that you can be,
because you can,
because there are no longer
restraints to weigh you down,
and the very love of being free,
fills the people,
with hope.
Once Greenland
Had bananas
Monkeys sat in trees
Snakes in the grass.
Then it colder
The jungle vanished
Ice took over.
Yet
The Vikings
Did farming
Had cows
And root plants.
When it got too cold
They took the cow
Home
To Norway
In longboats.
The clime
Had changed
Now it is changing
Again.
Will, it ever snow
In New Delhi.
Finally by the blood of swordsmen
They reach the mystic shore
Torn by battle each parched tongue
Corrupts it’s enemy once more
Flesh and spirit torn then stained
In legend myth and tale
Blew them, this final war
Llyr upon his sail
Bleached bones, sinew, hungry fists
Baying for a fight
Women to there long lost lovers
Avenged by firelight
No god of light ever brings
The blood of there’s back home
To the shores of Avalon
Once the soldiers gone
Then finally by there longboats
They reach the mystic shore
Fighting Norsemen cross the Styx
To battle ever more.
Ron Kempton
VIKINGS
Erik went east to Yamal peninsula’s spring
For Russian hides and terrifying antlers
From the world’s biggest reindeer herd,
In April crossing the thawing Ob River,
Safe from predators : good hunting
And fully laden longboats. Now,
In a Bergen June, waiting at quays
On a clouded grey grave dawn,
Anxious eyes strained to sea.
Men home from o’er the horizon
In a still tiny longboat buffeting
Through the hurling combers,
Sail disappearing, reappearing.
Glad to have them home
From the deep unknown
Where only an oak plank
Separates life from depth :
As she crosses the bar
To ease down on
The gravel.
Arrogant autocratic Ahab
Sails set seaward
Heartless harpoon high
Wind wracked Waves
Revenge rage regret
Wretched white whale
Opaque Ocean oblivious
Deep dark dangerous
Titanic terrors traversing
Captain callous cold
Blood bought bonds
Obsidian oaths ordured
Foreboding fears fester
Sacrosanct silent seas
Motionless midst moonset
Dim daylight dawned
Spray shot skyward
Lithe Longboats launched
Barnacled Behemoth Breaching
Heartless harpoons hefted
Destruction death defeat
Ahab alone as Achilles did battle
Poised proud purposeful in battle
Long lance light in hand for battle
White whale welcomes the battle
Dives deep deep to rise to the battle
Man monster meet to do battle
The sea is still, it has no tale to tell
4th march 2012,by : Sashi.Prabhu ( zeauoxian)
Blue carpet waves,
White foam gyrates.
Cool breeze blowing,
Beaming sun growing.
Low flying crows,
Fishing nets throws,
Slumbering dog packs,
Dry nets on wooden racks.
Lone fisherman rows,
Sea gulls numbers grows,
Around water dripping nets,
Pelagic fish they ferret.
Silver silky waves,
Low flying eagles braves,
Sand shacks longboats,
Orange buoys afloat.
Rowed boat alone,
Comes ashore, home,
Round logs without bark,
Boat ashore and park.
Sun rays warm up,
Need black coffee cup
It is 8 am this morn,
Can I be here at morrow’s dawn?
Blue carpet waves,
White foam gyrates.
Cool breeze blowing,
Beaming sun growing.
Low flying crows,
Fishing nets throws,
Slumbering dog packs,
Dry nets on wooden racks.
Lone fisherman rows,
Sea gulls numbers grows,
Around water dripping nets,
Pelagic fish they ferret.
Silver silky waves,
Low flying eagles braves,
Sand shacks longboats,
Orange buoys afloat.
Sun rays warm up,
Need black coffee cup
It is 8 am this morn,
Can I be here at morrow’s dawn?
The allure of a lure is alluring Poetry Contest
The tempest rages, tossing longboats high -
It’s better than a ‘straw death’ way to die.
But is the cause the writhing Midgard snake?
Are Aegir and his Maidens wide awake?
Is Aegir lurking, planning a surprise,
To clutch at us, with glee in his old eyes?
I scan for nixies, undines, and mermaids,
And hope we reach the land to savour raids.
Next, comes the singing of the Lorelei:
Ignore her voice if you don’t want to die!
As storms subside, just sea spray makes us wet.
Beware! Ran may be waiting with her net -
She’d hope to drag us down to her stronghold;
To buy our comfort there, we carry gold.
So on and on we sail ‘til we sight land,
As guided by the mighty Odin’s hand.
And there I’ll fight: a hero’s death for me.
Next stop Valhalla flown by Valkyr!
One day herding my animals
The other, tending our crop
Strangers out of the distance
To them, we knew not
The colour of our skin
Is with these distant men
On arrival at my village
We are herded into a pen
Our women and children screaming
Warriors manacled and chained
Treated like this in our homeland
Degraded mistreated, unexplained
The next day we witness our nightmare
Our village ransacked and burned
Six hundred marched to the coastline
Our existence overturned
The coast we eventually reach
A ship, The Brooke's sits offshore
Ferried out on their longboats
For our future, remains unsure
Many weeks at sea
Grown men cower in corners
In the bowels of this infested ship
Families have become mourners
Tilbury Docks we berth
As i look around and see
From over 600 villagers
Around 300 left and me
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/slavery.php
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.