revenge is served cold
with malice in cold steel knife
beside three-pronged fork
hate needs patience to mature
like a ripe blue-vein Stilton
anger sets the feast
memory seasons each course
with bitter chilli
sprinkled to sharpen revenge
as hunger outwaits its prize
when the dish arrives
rust has reached the waiting knife
mould adorns the fork
the taste of blood turns bitter
in the gnash of grinding teeth
Seems that violence is ramping up everywhere
as Christmas approaches, the world against Jews
Where are the 'Purveyors of Peace,' why won't they speak out
I guess they fear reprisals if they ‘make news’
Just expressing my views ~
But by holding their tongues
Purveyors ensure more violence to come
It’s more natural to be as a child
untouched by vices and greed of the world.
to wonder at ladybugs and dragonflies;
to swirl like a butterfly with wings unfurled.
To make up adventures while playing in woods;
to search for swift tadpoles while wading in streams,
jump over puddles or tumble in snow,
and proclaim with no guile implausible dreams.
How freeing to feel like an innocent child.
No preconceived notions clouding our mind
or fear of reprisals for things we might say
since to hate and racism we would be blind.
Why must growing old stifle our laughter?
We should model great kindness as we grow.
Can you imagine how great our world would be
if more like a child, we let our love flow?
What is the gift in your life
Is it your husband or wife
Is it your children, your lover, your pet
The notion of someone you haven’t met yet
Is it the door that you shut on the havoc
The sanctity of your four walls
Relaxing with something with lemon and ice
The chatter when family calls
What is the essence of life
Is it the joy or the strife
Is it the gift of another new day
Is it the moonlight that wipes it away
Is it the senses that most take for granted
Til veils are pulled over your eyes
The joy of the breath that means you escaped death
And you realise your life is a prize
What is the price of a life
When it dwells on the edge of a knife
Is it dollars or cents as it sits on the fence
Before it stands firm or repents
Is it a penny ignored by the many
A glint to the partially blind
When shots overhead leave passers-by dead
As I kneel to see what I may find
So what is the value of life
When gangland reprisals are rife
And witnesses number not many
But my life was saved by a penny
So is this the value of life
Not a bargain store bear nor a Steiff
A penny: A low value find
But a glint to the partially blind
Could conditions terribly sad
Lead captives to do something bad
When a sheriff not cool
Won’t let compassion rule
Do lifers in prison go mad?
Did structure that forms Gaza’s pen
Encourage the Hamas gunmen
And with vengeance hot
Will Israel’s king-sized swat
Hurt civilians at risk again?
Do dollars the contractors reap
For the deadly weapons not cheap
Make reprisals cease
Or bring lasting peace
After Gaza ends in a heap?
Author's note: If a civilian dies as a result of a bomb dropped from a plane or one dies after being shot by a deranged soldier, is the outcome any different? While a huge opportunity exists for talking right now, will politicians just scramble to satisfy constituent anger? During an interview, the Israeli father of a kidnapped daughter pleaded for dialogue rather than more violence. Is empathy for this father and daughter possible?
How many lies have you extolled
How many commandments have you broken
How many futures have you stole
How many people have you made to suffer
How many pennies have you pinched
In order to cast wishes down a well
How much untold damage have you inflicted
And worst most criminal of all
You still are unrepentant
And actually believe and think
You are the good guy
Well hopefully one day you
to as well will eventually meet
your maker
And unless he is the devil incarnate
him very self
You should surely be in for
A hell of a lot of rude reprisals
And untold unpleasant surprises
To be more complete
and closer to humanity
what the Lord wants....!
First I need a woman
who loves me, even if she is not a muse!
A cause I defend
with grace and honor, but that
does not enslave my conscience...
I need a certain mood
to confront
bitter situations...
have a caring way
to sensibly love!
I need to be strong at the same time
to receive reprisals...
I need security
truth, even in adversity
of lie...
I need to be calm and confident
to understand the sufferings of others...
I need to carry
a well of faith in the soul...
So I'll be so human
as Lord wants... !
He was a troublesome kid,
Who punched the others and hid
If this wasn't safe, off slid
To be of reprisals rid...
Venturesome troublesome kid,
Who pot distances from lid
And could 12:00 pm from Mid;
A Life of the Twisty Grid
A street wise worldly - wise kid,
Who torched things and asked "who did?"
Nigeria's Grid of A kid?.
The movers wheeled the piano in the apartment
my tutors revealed plateaus climbed as an artist
hours flying pages turned black and white keys charted
scoured trying ages I played packed plight I started
recitals, concert halls, from practicing hardest
reprisals, my art calls, the piano sits modest
In my twilight years I teach children to harvest
the wild bright light nears, to each the piano harnessed
Reprisals are sharp thorns from stabbing tongues
causing deep wounds that may never heal.
Regrets are sown in the seams of a guilty mind
where no salve can reach, and scars remain.
November 16, 2021 ~ Liberum Divisa 8 Contest
Taken from the poem: Reprisal or Regret ~ 2016
Contest Sponsored by Gregory Richard Barden
There is something special about the way
the early morning light is drizzled across the park.
A yawning of softness lingers in the air.
Better pictures are stolen before the light fully awakens;
before it takes notice of our gazing at its nakedness.
It’s only after lunch, in the middle of the day, when it stiffens
into sharp knives stabbing at trees and buildings
while it skids and bounces off the river, bursting pupils
with the pain of its reprisals, darting in every direction
looking for escape as though something were chasing it,
perhaps clouds, or night, or tourists’ cameras.
The drowsiness of evening brings it to a calm.
Surrendering itself to lovemaking with tender strokes
and warm caresses before it takes its leave;
A sailor briefly home, then back to sea.
It loves and leaves us as a brute
while we as harlots cling;
and then we mourn our loss.
Sculptor finger rakes
Creamy hands clone clay Egos
Warehouse reprisals
Love isn't conditional
It's not what you yearn
Love's only given
It's not based on return
Love doesn't fear
Reprisals or shame
It's not on condition
You're loved back the same
Love knows no bounds
Let it fly, enjoy
Regardless of whether
You get the girl or boy
Love and let go
Be proud you can be
Loving and giving
Absolutely
They love to puff the beryl nicotine
Incendiary lungs
sucking down the cancerous green
Hard drag queens,
dressed to mass extinct kill,
inhale poisonous mushroom dreams
Napalm verbal smoke:
fungi promises coming out of plastic windpipes
Pinocchio nose choke
pollute the global atmosphere with mint gripes
Cigar truth snubbed in a submarine ashtray
New Cuban missile crisis
put cerulean code Leviathan in play
Naval equatorial smoke circles ...
Ring of Fire raze reprisals ends a Green Day
Negotiated denials has got a jade glow
As the wizened warlords
sell refugee passes —
Microchip markers ... gamma emerald
Dragging chain smoking kings,
boast ballast policies of reptilian oppression
Puff fork tongues pack a blowtorch sting
Black-hearted lungs
exhaling cold malignant scorch gangrene
Dirge windpipes hate the cure love brings
Self-dissection
By Stina lu
Stab yourself with a sharp dagger
Fresh blood splashing
No one stops you
There’s no piercing scream
No one scolds you
There's no worry about curses and reprisals
To air your pure heart in the sunlight
Wipe gently the humble soul
To hold your guts high up in the sky
Let the moon and the sun penetrate and judge.
Stop the bee humming in your head
Place reason on the left brain
and passion on the right side.
They don’t owe each other.
Dust covered thick in your lung
which should be peeled layer by layer.
Make your breath smooth again
Every alveoli feels fresh
After all this labor
Clean the wound and suture it
Time will erase it
A new lease on life
A reborn phoenix arises from the ash
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