entwinedorphans allentwined10 hours ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
we seek to know
from where we came
to where we go
by family name
war, work and play
reach for sky
embrace the truth
of you and I
By the Rockets Red GlareIn the year of our Lord Seventeen Seventy SixBy the Rockets Red Glare2 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
combinedword on wordcombined5 days 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
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
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.
Equality of MarriageAnns a’ mheadhan na mòr-thiormachd seo,In the middle of this drought,Equality of Marriage1 week 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
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
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.
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....
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
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
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
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,
...said Sepp Blatter...said Sepp Blatter1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
For the good of the game, I do not stand for the corruption
In FIFA albeit that scandal’s eruption.
Forget all the bribery, the sexism, the misanthropy I support and proclaim;
After all, because it’s only a game.
I EdimiΟι ΈντιμοιI Edimi1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Υπάρχουν έντιμοι πολίτες,
καθώς πρέπει, όχι αλήτες
Είναι σ' όλα τυπικοί
και πολύ σχολαστικοί
Κοιτάνε πάντα τη δουλειά τους,
χαμηλώνουν τη ματιά τους
Μ’ όλους τά ‘χο
Thoughts In An Election YearWritten in 2008.Thoughts In An Election Year1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Thoughts In An Election Year
May I offer a suggestion
While you're reaching for perfection?
You could use some extra protection
Against the corporate infection.
Start by asking questions.
Don't let them answer you with silence.
They have a history of violence.
Profit distorts their priorities.
We can't outspend these "authorities".
The precious metal, what is it really worth?
Though I am a mere spectator
My respect could not be greater
For the average corporate traitor
Who refuses to cater
To the demands of the greedy hater.
The approval we crave
Can, at it's worst, dig logic a grave.
You reach for a relic soaked in history
To take the pulse of what will be.
How long can you hold a moment?
Please excuse me while I observe
That the lies keep growing more absurd
And while I'm certain that you've already heard,
I must admit it weighs upon the nerves
Animal SenateMonkeys fighting for the banana to be grown their way,Animal Senate1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Fighting for things that will never change.
Donkeys, elephants and their owners are just as messy.
It's all a big zoo, just push their cage and watch them get edgy.
We fed them and they became spoiled.
But taking away that food induces turmoil
Because dead animals don't keep the circus running.
Sometimes, I think that's even worse than having nothing.
The ground they're playing on is so dirty.
Guess that's what happens when they're kept awake.
One flickering spotlight louder than parked cars and birds chirping.
Two more minutes until they're driven insane.
one needtry to imagineone need1 month ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
beg, steal or borrow
to fulfill every
need of tomorrow
some would call madness
this impossible task
still we are faced
with a question to ask
if our resources
are better saved
or is this us
is there truth
in what I say
there is only one need
the need of today
The Palette of the Rich and BenightedThe palette of chaos is redThe Palette of the Rich and Benighted2 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
All that trickles is blood
All whom run are dead.
The palette of chaos is yellow
All that stinks is puss
All whom die have a fellow.
The palette of chaos is green
All that rots is decay
All whom lie couldn't have foreseen.
shallow pooltangent equationshallow pool2 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
barnacled and rusted
ship of fool
surf the net
one thread pulled
to be unraveled
drop in ocean
Poem - Artists UniteArtists UnitePoem - Artists Unite2 months ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Bonus Poem for Day 135 – 20150515
Artists unite to save the world,
even if it is fully unaware
of the lie it lives in dogma:
life abused and not fully realized.
Entertainer on the stage,
tip your hat to life's charade.
Poke the eye, trip the foot,
bring attention to the fools.
Jester with the hat of bells,
ring one for each of our lies.
Calliaphone heard for miles,
all known now as the jester smiles.
Musician with the silken tunes,
words enchanting the hardest hearts.
Lyrical license bequeathed by God,
that no man can disregard.
Sacred clown, confessor mutual,
trickster of all, friend to none,
do your work, make us honest,
remove the masques disingenuous.
Iambic poet, combine these all,
in a voice small but heard,
speak the truth, ring the bells,
trick the lyrical to touch the heart.
Leave them no hole left to hide
their dogmatic Shangri-La.
Pull back the curtain to reveal
humanity true, not lies revered.
© 2015. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved