Poetry in a row - poetry
In The Midst Of All
In the midst of darkness, there is light. In the midst of evil, there is virtue.
No one must have to beg or crawl ahead of humanity. No one be supposed to have to design to buy philanthropy.
Writing Innovative Poetry
Writing innovative poetry, the kind of poetry that decent literary journals publish, entails deliberate faithfully what each word of a poem does to the reader. A good poem ought to be evocative, skillful, and cohesive, but ahead of attempting to hone these attributes, a aptitude poet be supposed to be conversant of the a choice of forms and attributes of contemporary poetry.
You can do and you can be whatever you want. You have the power, and the right, to make the changes.
Give Me a Lily Pad & The Continuum [two Poems]
What can I do to keep this world in its orbital spin? I gave up difficult to win the hearts of the many-. Throw the meat-balls aligned with the wall, stop, stop!! Trying to make them spin, like God did in the heavens!Sexual longings-a conduit to anger and rage- Turn the page to the cheap hotels, turn the page Give it a conduit to run, tell your friends, they've won.
AFRICA (to africans in diaspora)africa here i come, africa africa of the black soul the soul of an antediluvian civilization the civilization of your timid tribes.its your voice i hear africa your voice of the discussion drums your beaded drums and the royal trumpeter the metal gong of your town crieri have come to see your music dance i have heard of your eternal minstrels have i not heard of your alternation hips! i have heard an adequate amount and have come to watch wouldn't you dance for me africaafrica here i come africa would you not show me to your tribes the timid tribes of your sugared tongues the miscellaneous tongues of your honorable menafrica, black soul africa tell me about your gods your gods of the sky and of the care for earth your gods of the hills and of the rivers aboundshow me to your kings africa your kings of the antiquated dynasty the antediluvian house of rusted spear and shield africa, here i come africaHEAVENLY GUESTheavenly guest heralding thunderously in its own awake pelting on men as well, the gods gathering itself drop by drop.
Whats A Prisoner to Do?
What's a prisoner to do when evenhandedness fails and the blameless is escorted off to jail?What's a prisoner to do once stigmatized, caged and abandoned and ostracized?What's a prisoner to do there's no one to trust; the classification fails and the outcome unjust?What's a prisoner to do when ancestors decide the punishment is defensible and justified?What's a prisoner to do while confined in a cell; the perpetrator's free and faring quite well?What's a prisoner to do once his reputation is dead and his life has been ruined as of what a celebrity said?What's a prisoner to do when he's not believed, though he's effective the truth, he's belief to deceive?What's a prisoner to do as he sits all alone, no one seems to care; past associates all gone?What's a prisoner to do session lost and idle and most of one's judgment be converted into suicidal?What's a prisoner to do when freedom's taken away and the will to live diminishes each day?What's a prisoner to do when hedged in by strife; with no break away from possible; no attempt for a new life?What's a prisoner to do when he can no longer see the beauty of the sky or the waves of the sea?What's a prisoner to do when the sun he can't feel, nor the breeze of bounce for the reason that his fate is sealed?What's a prisoner to do when doomed to despair but still praying to break the exciting chair?Tell me, what's a prisoner to do?Rev. Saundra L.
Rhymes of an Guns Man [Vietnam War: 1971]
Rhymes of an Guns Man [Vietnam War: 1971]An eleven part poem By Dennis L. SilukI had went to Vietnam at the age of 23 , and it was most interesting, there were 205,000 troops there when I arrived.
Mother, I Dont Mind The Pain
I am among those who know that one never recovers from the loss of one acutely loved. We come to admit the death and bend our lives - instead begrudingly, but we do not recover, we survive.
Black Blood, in Jeremiahs Vines - A Poem and an Article
Black Blood, in Jeremiah's Vines [A Dream Poem]And I heard the crackling of wood, and I noticed the Lord God had made men of wood, and fire came from his mouth.Then the wind poured its grief upon us-over our sins; and I heard the words for the seventh time, "Go to the mountains!"Foolish colonize of this land pray and understand-for He cometh! Thereof, toss physically to thy knees, for the roar of disobedient men will bleed: black blood, because of the vines of Jeremiah.
You Lost Your Last Bet and Me
I will never think twice nor will I roll the dice When it comes to my life I will take my Grannio's adviceYou play the hand you're dealt when it comes to who will be your Dad - But if you bluff about a card's face value for too many years you fail to remember you had - No Aces or King of Hearts in your first deck - But considerably a worthless Joker-So Wild and Mad..
Tale of the Brick Maker, of San Jeronimo, Peru [In English and Spanish]
Tale of the Brick Maker, Of San Jerónimo, Peru [A Cup of Sorrow]-1In the Andean mountains, inside theMantaro Valley county of Peru, Isolated, secluded, tranquil, is the littlevillage of San Jerónimo. Near the village, here lay the fruitful valleywith bent-grass, and huge Mountains stretching northbound,And caption towards the ocean's coast.
Here And There
My eyes opened. I am still alive; Living on world earth.
Live For Today...
Isn't that what they say?But what does that mean?There's no clarity that mayanswer that question..
Africa - Wheres The Profit?
A poetic commentary that just welled up exclusive my head - why cant we just do a touch - ahead of many more are dead?How pious those politicians are, When up there on T.V.
Two Poems and a Short Story
1)dying in the bar [sluggishly]yet, I would crawl too upto the bar, it was everything, the dampness the impressed wood the zoned-out-ness in my head dreaming; it was advance than death? then I took a different drink?so many I never moved much, like dead fish. my head split like an ass it was numb and, nobody else numbness was my homeacross the street, dancing on the patio the moon was out.
Ode To Quetzalcoatal [Now in Spanish and English]
Ode to QuetzalcóatlQuetzalcóatl the GreatNo one knew his true name, so they Called him Quetzalcóatl-feather Serpent He and his crew of nineteen: faces Strange faces, similes of a prince, a lord: King of the Yucatan in the year 986 ADHe was a tall man; long cloths, sandals; White as day, with a long beard, black hair. Some say red: some don't say? But they called him priest, Lord, king Amongst many things: god!.
Ode to: The Ice Maiden of Ampatos Apex [now in: English and Spanish]
Dedícate to Antonio Castillo. L.
Walt Whitman, Romance With a Stranger
The conception of brief encounters, even romantic encounters, with a stranger recurs often in the verses of Walt Whitman.Take, for example, these lines from one of the inscriptions that Whitman wrote to his 1860 magazine of Foliage of Grass.
THe Monster Mash, A Cemetery SMASH (short story I wrote when I was 11)
The Monster Mash The Churchyard SmashHave you heard of the Monster Mash? I believe you know the story of how it came to be, right? Well, I'm here to tell the TRUE story to you.It sarted out late one night, when all monsters where out of human sight.
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