we walk onon the backs of manywe walk on1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
we walk on
see their faces
each new dawn
ships set sail
for distant shores
slip through the tare
become the fabric
our children wear
By the Rockets Red GlareIn the year of our Lord Seventeen Seventy SixBy the Rockets Red Glare3 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Things were going on in the Imperial sticks
Out in the Colonies Thirteen
They declared People Supreme
And birthed a new nation into the mix
It seems they all wished to be free
And showed great disrespect to tea
To protest King’s Largess
They formed a Congress
And bombarded His Majesty with a plea
Having fail to impress upon jurisprudence
Grabbed muskets an declared independence
Fought Redcoat an Hessian
Who made quite the Messian
And forced the King to commit costly vengeance
From Georgia to the tips of Maine
And funding from France and Spain
They built an army
And behaved calmly
And marched in sun, frost and rain
It is more than fair to mention
They did better than expectation
Though for a time
Not in battle line
Such was the cause of their desperation
Lacking in the tools of convention
They gave plots more than a mention
Going where Eagles Dare
By sailing the Delaware
They inflicted a state of exasperation
Which lead to the withdraw
Dual VisageLost forever in a sea of faces...Dual Visage2 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
All alone in the middle of the crowd,
Putting down a pair of aces...
Eternal mystery, that which lies beyond the shroud...
Tightened so coldly around your neck,
It's not your fault that you were dealt
Some of the worst cards in the deck;
A sorrow so pure, you wish you'd never felt...
Will they ever truly see the beauty inside?
You've done everything you could to mask it,
The putrid remnants of your soul have already died;
All that's left is to find a suitable casket...
They'll dress you in velvet, and lace, and silk,
Hungering, we could wait an eternity for a meal,
You're forever the lost one, cannot find your ilk,
You find yourself always questioning what's real...
We seem to have left everything behind,
And no matter how much I try,
I just can't get the picture out of my mind,
Sometimes I drown, and feel like I want to die...
The farther we spin into different spaces,
I just don't know what to do,
The more each day, I hate your faces...
After all, it
Skin DeepChildren being pulled from a party by the pool.Skin Deep1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
This doesn't take a genius; it takes a damn fool.
Profiled for your color, hurts more than skin deep.
Some are so judgmental, it moves me to weep.
I drive through slums daily, yet I never feel afraid.
We are in this together; let it be kindness we trade.
So many homeless living underneath bridge tracks.
Where is our government, and who has their backs?
Some were abandoned, others gave into their addictions.
Many war-torn heroes, coming home with their afflictions.
Women and men selling souls just for something to eat.
Children play near broken glass, torn sneakers on their feet.
You might see what I see, if you dare to open up your eyes.
People and families left to struggle, while listening to the lies.
See some smiling faces, for there is still always love to share.
These children are the future, and we owe it to them to care.
Some will say I'm privileged, but it wasn't always that way.
I hid down in my daddy's car when bullets flew that
Poem - MonumentsMonumentsPoem - Monuments1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Poem for Day 180 – 20150629
A way of life fought for years ago,
power elite struggled for status quo.
Politicians sought to hold the line,
contest ended on the losing side.
Thousands died in battles lost,
loved ones remembered afterwards.
Monuments built to stamp in stone
the blood of those then gone.
Headstones erected to the dead,
honoring solder and veteran,
echoes placed by those who loved
the ones departed to the loam.
The wheel of years has turned around,
with groups of hatred in control
of heritage's objects once held dear,
long separated from a first intent.
Where is the place to honor the dead,
to place significance on past history?
Where does the remembrance of loss end,
the beginning of hate's queer taint begin?
Do we tear down the monuments,
erected by the women of the men?
Do we smash cold headstones
to move into the here and now?
Society is built on past's dismal swamp,
the mire is drained to heal the all.
What place will the fallen hold
when monuments hav
Equality of MarriageAnns a’ mheadhan na mòr-thiormachd seo,In the middle of this drought,Equality of Marriage2 weeks ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Deàrrsaidh tobar àigh ‘san naidheachd choA fountain of joy glistens in the news so
Rìomhach geal gur urrainn do dith’s fearBeautifully bright that two men
No dith’s ban a phòsadh, ceòl ‘s aighearOr two women can marry, music and joy
Èigheach ‘nis na buaidhe laghaileTo announce now the legal victory
Gur cho milis ri fras shlànach ghlanThat is as sweet as any healing
Sam bith, tha na còraichean phòsaidh,Pure rain, the rights of marriage,
Bun-chòir, againn ‘s seinnidh ar còisirA basic right, are with us and our joyous chorus
Aoibhneach bhuaidhe mòire, na glòire,Sings of great victory, of glory,
Shaorsa ‘ghabhail gràdh, a’ seinn a’ chòrachOf freedom to love, singing of the right
Nach bu chòir do ‘bhith a
TakedownLong dark hair sailing through the wind like a flag.Takedown1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Some things can be trimmed down but never cut off.
It's like grass people suddenly stop watering
Because the sprinklers were shut off.
Long dark hair will always be beautiful.
Imagine what went into the grooming of it.
The greener grass doesn't deserve to yellow.
Sprinklers are afraid what the waters are assuming of it.
I don't care who touched the flagpole.
History's untouchable like a sailing dark hair's soul.
A Day at SchoolWith every day an Odyssey at school,A Day at School1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
and students cringing at the sight of red,
we write an essay here in class with pens
to analyze authors’ techniques in books.
But I have yet to see a rime at work,
and eyes begin to wander ‘round the rooms.
“Now, integrate the area of rooms.”
“But is this class important to the school?”
“Of course it is, so hurry up and work
before I take the pen and mark it red.”
“Okay, but I forgot to bring my books.”
She sighed and wrote in her grade book with pens.
In history, we are prepared with pens,
and posters are posted around the rooms.
Napoleon and Hitler in the books
we students read of history at school.
Our tests and quizzes simply marked in red
“Next time, don’t try to cheat; do your own work.”
Today, there is no time to read or work,
for we require pencils and some pens:
some blue, some green, some black, and others red.
The screeching violins can fill five rooms,
PeopleIt's incrediblePeople1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
how little interest
in the unforgettable;
but do their best
to stay up to date
on private lives
and national hate
while never being alive.
combinedword on wordcombined1 week ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
stone for stone
building this wall
of flesh and bone
heart and mind
all we have left
our pieces combined
where do we go from here....where do we go from herewhere do we go from here....1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
bound in our laws and rules
lambs to the slaughter
governed by fools
elected by our lack
of concern to abort
the senseless ramblings
of a kangaroo court
we work and vote
to pacify our need
rent storage spaces
to accommodate our greed
we never look upon
the faces of starvation
we turn away
doomed by fatal flaws
soon the dam will burst
in spite of our wealth
we live as cursed
holding our wilted promise
tightly to our chest
unable to share
what we've been blessed....
castles of sandmirrored vanitycastles of sand1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
rich at play
sign on hill
freeway parking lots
castles of sand
fame on demand