In my garden I am often ankle deep in peace
And my head is fleshed within the mind of God
When each day I root out weeds and dead growth
I remember the work still to do with sins remaining
Lying in the regions of roots and worms and serpents
And my soul feels the pull of the garden’s twin in paradise
And knows it can’t stay here much longer in the mud below
Suspended outside together with the poisoned demons
Breathing the same air as the malevolent hemlock
Swinging to the wicked rhythm of a perverse dark breeze
In the abandoned corner of this twin garden hiding
Hanging heavy in the land of the Harlot and the Unclean.
Saddened heart
lonesome
in the night
keeping
in throat
tears away
from eyes
fearful of thorns
by rose love
abandoned
surprised
by stem
budding
of a sudden
winter
has passed
spring
at door
is knocking
time to root out
sick stalks
of mind
Spirit wind
blew
envy leaves
away
jealousy fire
by mercy tears
put out
violet scent
like bird song
in hiding
lily on stem
moth buzzed
like a lamp
serene the mind
with stars
in night of eyes
color of graces
soul sparkling
to smile
opening heart
to sweetness
of God
like flower
for greatest
of all miracles
the joy of being
forgiven
9th place winner: Brian Strand-Premiere Contest 1471-5/13/26
As the New Year is almost upon us
It’s becoming clear just how rotten
The smiling face of our nation is,
So what better time
To set it straight.
Everywhere you look waste, fraud and abuse
Overflows, as it has for many decades,
But now that the Somali day-care fraud
Is being unearthed,
Not only are the molars seen as totally rotten,
But the gums gingivitis infected as well,
To the extent all the teeth
Now need to be pulled.
And where does that leave US?
Toothless and sore and helplessly vulnerable,
And yet we’d still be alive.
Which is more than it will be
If we don’t root out the rot
Tooth and nail.
(12/28/25)
Picking imprints from everywhere,
Let all the woods your footprint bear,
Take off, nag at no rutted tract,
What if some rickety ways stare.
Throw to winds every needless care,
Let no head wind unduly dare,
Let the worse worsen, worst to get,
Let all the woods your footprint bear.
Mind not eastward you go or west,
If north, let not south ever jest,
Let no alien thought you attract,
Let all the woods your footprint bear.
Root out doubts as you’d thorny weeds,
Walk, brave only to their hearts heeds,
Let eastern nor west wind distract,
Let all the woods your footprint bear.
Letting no stumbling blocks scare,
Sparing none any endeavour,
Pricks of no space-time interject,
Let all the woods your footprint bear.
_________________________
Quatrain |14.11.2024|traveller
While there is still time
close your eyes and listen...
Even the silent
have something to say.
While there is still time
go to the ceiling, root out
the forgotten boxes
full of hidden memories and halt...
dust does remember.
What is important is that there is still time
the birds of your neighborhood
to rest from cutting air
because that piece of air is common.
There is little time
to make noise
and step loudly
because voice is heard
when strong
and step when loud.
It's time to hear the unspoken
and come out of your memories
because you have been there for a long time
And now, finally, the curtain is falling on Palestine and
there will be no Palestinians left to set free, erased from history.
March of history at its cruelest, a grand tragedy foretold,
by the misprints of victims on history's canvas, painting white on grey,
to the point of oblivion.
If history was pregnant with an alternative, we may never know, only the end of line on this bus of history, with crystal clarity.
History is a bastard tree drenched in blood, always groomed by the victors, with only marginal notes by the vanquished, like so many weed to root out with sharp blades, beheading the hope of a nation.
Peace is nowhere to be found, gone for good, like an alienated neighbor travelling to distant territories, for self-preservation.
now i know the details of the creatures
who walked around the Earth department
I always acted with them in this movie
until the projectile I sent split the base of the pavement
and the shards mark this end
what is human inside them bids farewell
they sadly greet their fate and goodbye
yes, i'm here assuming i could have been better
if I had pointed out what is hostile and said this is it
let's root out what consumes stability
before they sink into all life puddles
because if I carried them in me without words
I know that the love of my silence would be enough
to create a golden age and forgiveness
but I only seriously look to the end of the sky
and comets do their part in swarms
soon everything ceases, look how beautiful this darkness is
I search for lines, in vain, days, evening, night.
Stippled heads are moving along a morning rail station, and
Poetry sleeps at a stale corner without cover in this city-winter.
An institution, with awardees for research to root out pauperization,
Where in front of the main gate,
Poetry yawns without food, raising its hand and pulling erudite in the rickshaw.
Park, river-side, theatre, shopping mall, restaurant, museum and in the zoo;
Selfie, photogenic-faces, snapshots;
Someone in, Someone out from an "iPhone !."
And poetry winks at the bargain of
The hedonist with a street food vendor.
Then I burnt-out and
Search for words to describe you,
People in haste make their way,
Leaving me behind,
While I hear a million gongs rumbling in a century-old edifice;
Where the present is standing
Beside the door of a room full of the past,
Where lights and sounds lost their way
Amid layers of glass-walls and paper-pillars,
I find all my lines, somewhere there.
Let us make the life colourful
piercing the gloom of heart and soul so's turn into bright
disrupting the sprees of bigotry ; stopping fight
which acts as sharp knife.
By spreading the morality of
life.
Let them come where the stream of love
has been flowing, end of all grief and pain
The air where the free will flow
and the humanity they will
gain;
I am bold enough to take a promise
to make the world wonderful and
root out corruption and
brutality.
I will create such a world
where the monsters will not strive
each and all will be happy
dominated by compassion
sympathetic enough to
live.
Peace and tranquility will flow
in each and every field
with the melodious tune of
shepherd fife
The end of the hatred and the jealousy
by my power and
whip.
Crossing the Swamp
The enemy within, if unchallenged,
Will destroy the nation to achieve power.
Singing and composing to deceive the innocent,
Spinning narratives to suit their agenda.
For them, the country is a tool to use
To satisfy their selfish interests.
They hate Jesus, Christians, and Jews
And curse the United States of America.
Boldly, the bowman poles away the ‘gators,
While the helmsman rudders straight and true.
Brave Trump, “Commander in Chief,” leads the troops,
Crossing the swamp to root out traitors.
By beacon’s light in murky waters’ blight,
Proudly displayed, “Old Glory” waves
As a nation prays for freedom from evil’s grip
And for the killing of unborn babies to stop.
Growing
As I catch Light
As rays dissolve my fright
As my soul dares the mighty height
As I lend a heart and root out a spite
As I ease pain into delight
As my soul gets refined
As I hold tight
Growing
Fire in my belly
Confidence in my mind
I confront challenges that I tackle daily
In a determined and concerted onslaught to find
Solutions I appreciate
Among several alternatives I explore
To root out hypocrites who ingratiate
Themselves to exploit my generosity more
Than moderation permits
In civilized society
Where a sleight of hand meets
With disapproval where humility
Scores priceless points
When set against a background
Of complex cultures at joints
Where juxtapositions of modernity and tradition abound
In their understanding
Of cohabitation, reflection, reconciliation and restoration
To avoid garrulous grandstanding
In circumstances, settings and scenarios of remonstration and frustration
When a meeting of moderate minds
Accommodating dissenting views
Of credible kinds
Thrives to disseminate among stakeholders cogent cues and critical clues.
Living here upon this world of ours
we're inclined to fill ourselves to the full
things of vanity and much worthlessness
as the world says to enjoy it and be cool
Our natural self is so full of self
that wants only to be the number one
this world promises us so very much
but it can't fulfil what it says is fun
The only answer is trusting fully on the Lord
for He's the one that supplies all His grace
handing it to whosoever believes in Him
serving your master giving Him first place
Root out all that would defile you
so the Lord can fill all your space
then His spirit controls every thought
riding along in tune everything apace
Today's the day, or so I tell myself,
That my apathy begins to wane
The day I forget who I've become
And start my life anew
Today's the day that I lock my pain away
Garnered by years of lifes' enigmatic lessons
I did not want to learn
Attending the school of hard knocks I did not enroll
Today's the day that I be brave
The day I put my foot down
To root out this melancholy
No more giving in or hiding in my own shadow
Today's the day I put my favourite mask away
My protector from inquisitive minds
For the more they question
The harder it gets for me to show my face
Today's the day that I take control
Of my future, of my destiny
And also my emotions
Those that have squeezed my eyes dry
I wish I could say that that day is now
But the sky is a deeper shade of grey
My mind is foggy and unclear
Today may not be the day but that day will come
I'm inspired by their bravery
To root out the truth and lies
To help the ignorant people
Tear the wool off of their eyes
I admire their fearlessness
To fight the blatant perversity
Of our corporate owned government
Despite all the adversity
They hold people accountable
They challenge the propriety
Of the sell-out politicians
In our so-called moral society
They expose all the corruption
The fear mongering media conceals
By empowering us with the facts
And not the propaganda wheels
Some think that they're too liberal
Some think they're overzealous
These "some" are "the establishment"
And I think they're just jealous!
By Marilyn Hernandez
Dedicated to Ana Kasparian, Cenk Uygur, and everyone behind the amazing TYT Network, the only news I trust!
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