Sutherland Poems


War Crimes

The 90 year old
Could no longer bend or even lean
Over
His brother’s grave

Stands in the sun with his planted cane

At his elbow

Tells me
He hears his brother speak from the grass
“Bobby, where have you been all these years?”

Dad turns to me
Says when he was 13
And the Army telegram arrived at the house
And his mother and father tore it open
On the Roosevelt porch

He ran down Sutherland Street to downtown Ironwood
With shock if not even a grin
Wired across his face

Shouting from the Walnut-split sidewalks
“My brother’s been killed! My brother’s been killed!”

Haunted
By his youthful exuberance 
For all his old days thereafter

Thought he was responsible
For his mother losing her hair
Nest unraveled by a storm

For his father
Never using a razor again
Instead, each morning
Rubbing expressions clean in the sink
With his palms

For the only thing
Left standing
In this near-abandoned mining town

A fifty foot fiberglass statute
Of Chief Hiawatha
Gazing over the passage of centuries

Never lets go of any soul
No matter the crimes against humanity.
Categories: sutherland, bereavement, childhood, death, father
Form: Free verse

Premium MemberYou

I’ve watched the sun rise in Angkor Wat
The beauty in Santorini will not be forgot 
Mount Bromo was a sight worthy to behold 
Cape Town did shine so bright and so bold

I witnessed the sun as it set on the Grand Canyon walls
The moonlight dancing on the Sutherland Falls 
I’ve cried at the feet of the Redeemer so grand
I’ve seen so much beauty in many a land

Nothing compares to what I’ve seen with my heart 
A sight so amazing it just tore me apart 
It all pales in comparison so right and so true 
The beauty that I see every time I’m holding you



*comments are welcome and appreciated*
Categories: sutherland, beautiful, beauty, true love,
Form: Free verse


Bonnie Scotch Ladies

Oh !
The swirl o the kilt !

The Maid
There was an old maid of Pitlochary whose morals were truly a mockery
For under her bed she'd a fellow instead of the usual porcelain crockery !

to the haunt o the pipe !

The Lady
Each time Lady Sutherland swooned 
Her bosoms popped out like balloons
But her butler stands by with a gleam in his eye and lifts them back in with warm spoons !
Categories: sutherland, humor,
Form: Limerick

Premium MemberSilent Unholy Nights a Collaboration

A Collaboration with Marti Sutherland

Circling the table before they feast, black ravens crow
bright beady eyes darting to and fro, away they go
landing on a wounded body that has not yet died
circling the skies before they feast, dark ravens cried

On their bellies through titanic grass, slimy snakes slither
forked tongues searching for innocent prey, coming hither
Reptiles crawling from under rocks, cold-blooded and chilled
their fangs leaving lethal bites,  and another victim is killed

skulking in shifting shadows, deceitful humans lie in wait
Bearing no name, no face; beware of the wicked who hate
Brutal bashers who take what they want at the cost of life
Back stabbers living in a harsh world where hypocrisy is rife

Ravens, snakes and evil humans sit on thrones of deceit
Like black widows they feast on their mates when they cheat
They spin their lies so easily, like the sticky web of a spider
Beware you are not caught when their mouths open wider
Categories: sutherland, anti bullying, anxiety, art,
Form: Choka

Not Even An Amen

Not even an "Amen"


Babies cried, children bled
mother's fell, families splintered,
hymns ended, bibles held

Nightmares became 
not something to wake up from,
but something to wake up to

Sunday morning wept dark 
neath a bright November sun
as doors burst open
and repetitive noise silenced everything

No time for prayers,
no time to run,
When the smoke cleared
not a sound was heard...

not even an "Amen"


The massacre at the First Baptist Church in Sutherland Springs, Texas happened 3 miles from my home. A typical warm Sunday morning was no more. Heartbreaking and horrific.
Categories: sutherland, sad,
Form: Free verse


Sutherland No More - a Proclamation

Sutherland No More – A Proclamation

Sutherland Springs from the pages of my media feed,
A story of guns, grief and the need, for no more.
Sutherland no more.
The innocent and the free sitting in their Sunday Pews,
Little thinking they would be the news, on the door.
Sutherland no more.
The white squat steepled church reaches to the sky,
The congregation and world asks why, whilst the tears pour.
Sutherland no more.
‘Fortunately somebody else had a gun’, the saying goes,
That was equalising those bullet flows, from ceiling to floor.
Sutherland no more.

Freedom to Bear, Freedom to Speak, Freedom to seek
The solution to these nightmares in our sleep.
Guns cause the rift and opinion must shift.
When you’re gone,
Will you send back a letter from America?
X.

©Keith Murphy
Categories: sutherland, community, death, eulogy, grief,
Form: Elegy

Premium MemberHoodlum Triple Collaboration With Lin Lane and Marti Sutherland

I followed that cad Robyn Hood 
and discovered he's up to no good 
An expert at cheating 
bad mouthing and bleating 
His actions I've not understood

Oh how awful that folks feel so glum
Many now call him Robyn Hoodlum
He's a raunchy thief
who brought them to grief
He preyed on the blind, deaf, and dumb

Robyn has folks dancing like Muppets 
He loves to treat them like puppets 
He tugs at their strings 
and then clips their wings 
No wonder their confidence plummets

Heard the sheriff will arrest him soon
Robyn will be singing a new tune
While sitting in jail
He will cry and wail
In sorrow for acting like a goon

Sheriff found out Robyn is a girl
Her real name is Antoinette Pearl
Robyn Hoodlum wed
Now the sheriff is dead
and Robyn is engaged to an earl

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

11-01-17
Fairytale plot by Jan Allison, Marti Sutherland, and Lin Lane
Categories: sutherland, fun, humorous,
Form: Limerick

Premium MemberHoodlum-Triple Collaboration With Jan Allison and Marti Sutherland

I followed that cad Robyn Hood 
and discovered he's up to no good 
An expert at cheating 
bad mouthing and bleating 
His actions I've not understood

Oh how awful that folks feel so glum
Many now call him Robyn Hoodlum
He's a raunchy thief
who brought them to grief
He preyed on the blind, deaf, and dumb

Robyn has folks dancing like Muppets 
He loves to treat them like puppets 
He tugs at their strings 
and then clips their wings 
No wonder their confidence plummets

Heard the sheriff will arrest him soon
Robyn will be singing a new tune
While sitting in jail
He will cry and wail
In sorrow for acting like a goon

Sheriff found out Robyn is a girl
Her real name is Antoinette Pearl
Robyn Hoodlum wed
Now the sheriff is dead
and Robyn is engaged to an earl

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fairytale plot by Jan Allison, Marti Sutherland, and Lin Lane
Categories: sutherland, silly,
Form: Limerick

Premium MemberI Won'T Play Childish Games: With a Guest Poet

I don't want a flimsy daisy chain love
one the slightest breeze will sever apart
Their blooms are as pure as a turtle dove
I won't play childish games with my heart

Plucking flower petals, I would never do
for he either loves me, or he loves me not
Cupid drew his little bow and an arrow flew
He missed but I consider it a warning shot

Love is seldom simple. I'm aware of that
Unless built on honesty, it will surely fail
The man I will love must wear a white hat
not some scoundrel who carries a tall tale

The truth in matters will someday be told
So I'll not pluck daisies and strip them bare
One day my heart will discover and enfold
the hero searching for me, his own lady fair


July 7th, 2017
*Thank you, Marti Sutherland, for writing in tandem with me.
Categories: sutherland, flower, love,
Form: Rhyme

Epiphany

EPIPHANY

As I walked beside a river today, life took on a different meaning. I had walked many times this way before, but it seemed like it was my first time. Things I took for granted became alive and meaningful.
Heaven above was softer blue, earth around was sweeter greener. I had never noticed before the small flowers that bloomed among the grass. It was if they were painting a picture for me. How I wish I had brought my camera to capture the scene of this moment in time.
Then I heard birds with their different voices. Some had deep sounds, others a sweet trill. Silver throated magpies warbles. I closed my eyes, as I stopped to listen and imagined I was listening to an opera.. Pavarotti, Domingro, and Sutherland, never sounded as good to me as did the bird choir on that day.

              trees 
                leaves clap
                wanting encore

Copyright © Vivien Wade Oct. 2014
Categories: sutherland, nature,
Form: Haibun
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