Posted by: Ron DuBour | September 2, 2014

Daily missive for Tuesday the 2nd of September.~by Peter Forster


 

 

Daily missive for Tuesday the 2nd of September.

Not a toy,
A gaudy bracelet
Wrapped in golden foil.
A birthday gift,
From a child.
Tightly bound,
In brightly coloured
Tissue paper.
Nestled in cotton wool,
Carefully placed,
Too fragile to touch.
Made from shells
Like fresh laid eggs.
And you,
The mother hen,
Closely guarding
A secret stash,
In a treasure chest
Full of history.
Where the mystery
Of your life
Is held.

Childhood memories,
In pink and blue,
A tiny sock
Baby shoe.
A lock of hair,
Fine and fair.
A baby tooth,
The first to fall.
You, the tooth fairy
For good and all.
And in a brown paper bag,
A baptismal robe,
Too good to wear.
All packed in,
So tenderly.
With a first birthday card,
A gift to Santa,
Thanking him
For remembering.
He always did,
And wish he still came by.

You stop,
To touch the photograph,
A face,
So young,
And still you cry.
Even now,
When so much time has gone
And life, has stolen
Golden
Dreams away,
Though memories
Cloud with age,
Words disappear
From the page,
They never, ever die.
Just let them try.

Posted by: Ron DuBour | September 2, 2014

True Love Ways.~by


 

 

Daily missive for Monday the 1st of September.

 

True Love Ways.

We were blameless,
Children really,
Copied lyrics
Straight from vinyl.
Learned them by heart,
Sang in harmony,
In groups,
Friends together,
Acapella on street corners,
In the school yard,
In a tin pan alley
Between the coal house,
And the chicken shed.
Buddy Holly is dead.
But I still remember the words.

We were blameless,
Children really,
Playing in the street,
Out in the rubble,
After the bombs fell.
They fell again.
We died.
Blame it on me

I watched
As fire raged.
A night so violent
Fire fell like rain,
Burning innocence.
As a city suffered
For a war
That killed millions.

Blame it on me.
As thousands starve
For want of simple things.
When fat cats
Play celebrity games
With real lives.
Harpies with violins,
Bleat about the poor
Whilst lining pockets
Filled with my salved
Conscience.

As I place my
Organic, de-caff
Free trade coffee
On a fitted shelf,
And sing
Along to Buddy Holly,
A greedy world
Keeps raving on,
Eating itself,
And choking on words.
Blame it on me.

Posted by: Ron DuBour | September 2, 2014

PROCURING A BRIGHT FUTURE~by Bernard Owor


 

 

PROCURING A BRIGHT FUTURE

Its true matters that pertain
To the future are uncertain
The goals we dream to attain
Before death closes the curtain
The knowledge we obtain
The notions we entertain
The fears we can’t contain
The wrongs we can’t abstain
The hardships that detain
The strength we must retain
The hopes we fight to maintain
It all makes one thing certain
The present is the ship to captain
For it shapes a future we can ascertain
What we do now is what gets to sustain
A bright future that bears no stain

By Bernard Owor

Posted by: Ron DuBour | September 2, 2014

“Eternity”~by Leon A. Walker


 

 

“Eternity”

The veil falls upon me
As if from the gods a delicate torrent
To wash me in desperate desire
Your staggering vision
My mysterious sensual lover
From the wind comes your siren song
Calling me to worship at your decree

Come to me
Let me lead you to the remarkable beyond
From the depths of the darkened sky
I will warm you in my moonlight
And feed you fine wine from salvaged tears
For each time I gaze upon you
Raised is the sun of my sorrow’s secrets
And from this I will safeguard you always
The distressed despair
Of a fractured heart
So mercilessly and ruthlessly
once betrayed

Across a thousand galaxies
I will carve your name in radiant light
And then for all eternity
You may look skyward my love
At a marquee of stars
Crafted for you my lady beautiful
Look skyward
Always
And smile . . .

Leon A. Walker – From my book “Equinox”

Posted by: Ron DuBour | September 2, 2014

‘The Birds don’t Sing in Syria’~by Mary Cecil


 

 

‘The Birds don’t Sing in Syria’

The birds don’t sing in Syria,
Or know the joy of spring
When flowers bloom and glow,
Lie buried in the wounds of war

The children don’t thrive in Syria,
Or live a life of joy
Imprisoned and encased,
In sepulchres of silence

Mothers don’t sleep in Syria,
Serene in sweet contentment
But suffer in the scarring darkness,
That hides their children’s hunger

Forgotten in the spirals of ceaseless war,
Where kill or die reigns supreme
Fermenting in the yeast of destruction,
The seeds of hatred grow

Will we ever hear,
The silenced yearning longing
For peace to heal the scars,
With the balm of redeeming forgiveness

By
Mary Cecil
Rathlin Island

Posted by: Ron DuBour | September 2, 2014

GOD FOR HUMANITY & TERROR~by Jagjit Jit


 

 

GOD FOR HUMANITY & TERROR

How some human beings
Can be so inhuman and cruel!
That they blow fellows
Using religion as hate-blowing fuel!

How they treat the girls,
Know only a commodity to consume!
For what they fight
Nothing sacred briefed in their resume!

Why they love guns?
To win regions, don’t love people!
Abducting their brothers & sisters
They are not brave, but coward simple!

God has no religion
Religions just schools to teach!
How to love ‘Him’?
Through loving humanity, they preach!

Will ‘You’ listen?
Cries of innocents & wipe their tears!
Why terror is blind?
Make it feel pains & give it ears!

Show right path
To mentally divorced terror lovers!
If God via religion?
Come, see & become humanity’s cover!
By Jagjit Singh Jit
@ September 2, 2014
All Rights Reserved

Posted by: Ron DuBour | September 2, 2014

Starshine


Originally posted on Poesy plus Polemics:

"Stars in the Sky - Daydreaming" Image from fanpop.com

“Stars in the Sky – Daydreaming”
Image from fanpop.com

impressing the stars
such ridiculous folly
the light in their eyes
is so achingly old
they won’t see you
for millions of years
and by then
they’ll have watched
birth and death of
uncountable splendidly
interesting worlds
do you think the brief
speck of a spark
that was you
will have mattered at all

if you do
then I’ll make you
a place in my heart
where I keep a conviction
that every life
matters a lot
more than starshine
can ever record
or will likely remember

View original

Posted by: Ron DuBour | September 2, 2014

Feeling Art


Originally posted on Poesy plus Polemics:

"Purple Moonlight" Painting by Sneddonia From flickr.com

“Purple Moonlight”
Painting by Sneddonia
From flickr.com

which colors obtain
grueling portraitures of pain
black on purple serves
agonized canvasses well
slashing eyes with sharp edges

View original

Posted by: Ron DuBour | September 2, 2014

Equity


Originally posted on Poesy plus Polemics:

"Lady Justice" Painting by Tristan Henry-Wilson From flickr.com

“Lady Justice”
Painting by Tristan Henry-Wilson
From flickr.com

crime doesn’t pay
so they say
nor the criminal
given a minimal
slap of a sentence
empty of penance
beating her scales
into coffin nails
fit for the corpse
of a system that warps
what justice implied
before equity died

View original

Posted by: Ron DuBour | September 1, 2014

Daily missive for Monday the 1st of September.~by Peter Forster


 

 

Daily missive for Monday the 1st of September.

We were blameless,
Children really,
Copied lyrics
Straight from vinyl.
Learned them by heart,
Sang in harmony,
In groups,
Friends together,
Acapella on street corners,
In the school yard,
In a tin pan alley
Between the coal house,
And the chicken shed.
Buddy Holly is dead.
But I still remember the words.

We were blameless,
Children really,
Playing in the street,
Out in the rubble,
After the bombs fell.
They fell again.
We died.
Blame it on me

I watched
As fire raged.
A night so violent
Fire fell like rain,
Burning innocence.
As a city suffered
For a war
That killed millions.

Blame it on me.
As thousands starve
For want of simple things.
When fat cats
Play celebrity games
With real lives.
Harpies with violins,
Bleat about the poor
Whilst lining pockets
Filled with my salved
Conscience.

As I place my
Organic, de-caff
Free trade coffee
On a fitted shelf,
And sing
Along to Buddy Holly,
A greedy world
Keeps raving on,
Eating itself,
And choking on words.
Blame it on me.

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