Friday!!! time for a post from the book of American Heroes, today we go back a few hundred years with the help of poetry and some history.


Harriet Tubman (born Araminta Ross,) (1820 –1913)

Record keeping was very poor

For slaves in the United States.

Araminta Ross to slave parents

Both birth and death have conflicting dates.


Her fathers name was Ben Ross

Mother was Harriet (“Rit”) Green.

Born in eighteen twenty or twenty-five

Or somewhere in-between.


As a child she was often beaten

Married John Tubman in forty-four.

Changed her name to Harriet

Women’s suffrage she could not ignore.


Escaped to Philadelphia

In eighteen hundred and forty-nine.

Slowly returned to rescue

Her relatives’ one group at a time.


When the U.S. Civil War began

First a cook and then a nurse.

Later was an armed scout and spy

She proved to be quite diverse.


The first woman to lead and armed expedition

A raid on the Combahee River.

Where they liberated seven-hundred slaves

To freedom she did deliver.


Instrumental with the safe-houses

Known as the Underground Railroad.

Helped John Brown recruiting men

For Harpers Ferry a common mode.


Retired in her family home

Where she cared for her aging parents.

Stilled active in women’s suffrage

And fought for more improvements.


When illness overtook her

Up to her last day here on earth.

On March thirteenth, nineteen-thirteen.

To rest in peace with mirth.


Harriet Tubman born Araminta Ross

Was an African American

An Icon in American courage and freedom

An abolitionist and humanitarian.


AUTHOR NOTES: Harriet Tubman was born Araminta Ross to slave parents, Harriet (“Rit”) Green and Ben Ross, owned by Mary Brodess (and later her son Edward) and Anthony Thompson, who ran a plantation near the Blackwater River in Dorchester County, Maryland. As with many slaves in the United States, neither the exact year nor place of her birth was recorded, and historians differ as to the best estimate. Kate Larson records the year 1822, while Jean Humez says “the best current evidence suggests that Tubman was born in 1820, but it might have been a year or two later.” Catherine Clinton notes that Tubman herself reported the year of her birth as 1825, while her death certificate lists 1815 and her gravestone lists 1820. Born a slave in Dorchester County, Maryland, Tubman was beaten and whipped by her various masters as a child. Early in her life she suffered a traumatic head wound when an irate slave owner threw a heavy metal weight at her, intending to hit another slave. The injury caused dizziness, pain, and spells of hypersomnia which occurred throughout her entire life. A devout Christian, she also experienced strange visions and vivid dreams, which she ascribed to premonitions from God. In 1849 Tubman escaped to Philadelphia, then immediately returned to Maryland to rescue her family. Slowly, one group at a time, she brought relatives with her out of the state, and eventually guided dozens of other slaves to freedom. Traveling by night and in extreme secrecy, Tubman (or “Moses”, as she was called) “never lost a passenger”. Her actions made slave owners anxious and angry, and they posted rewards for her capture. When a far-reaching Fugitive Slave Law was passed in 1850, she helped guide fugitives further north into Canada, and helped newly-freed slaves find work. When the US Civil War began, Tubman worked for the Union Army, first as a cook and nurse, and then as an armed scout and spy. The first woman to lead an armed expedition in the war, she guided the raid on the Combahee River, which liberated more than seven hundred slaves. After the war, she retired to the family home in Auburn, New York, where she cared for her aging parents. She was active in the women’s suffrage movement until illness overtook her and she had to be admitted to a home for elderly African-Americans she had helped open years earlier. After she died in 1913, she became an icon of American courage and freedom. Harriet Tubman (born Araminta Ross, c. 1820 – 10 March 1913), was an African-American abolitionist, humanitarian, and Union spy during the US Civil War. After escaping from captivity, she made thirteen missions to rescue some seventy slaves using the network of antislavery activists and safe houses known as the Underground Railroad. She later helped John Brown recruit men for his raid on Harpers Ferry, and in the post-war era struggled for women’s suffrage.

Posted by: Ron DuBour | December 19, 2014

The Last Meeting with a Revolutionary~by Zihannasheen Jaatheen



The Last Meeting with a Revolutionary

I had known him for many years.
He had been my classmate
For a decade.
He called himself a Revolutionary
And he was dedication and patience manifest…

We met many times during those years.
He had something to tell me;
Something to discuss;
Some message in his heart and soul to share;
A great concern for me, my future, and my family, and everybody;
An objective social seeking…

I knew these things very well about him…
And I enjoyed my right perfectly over him.

That day he came rather more vigorous than usual,
And the moment he uttered the first word
I began to speak:

“Now listen to me, my dear innocent friend!”
I said.
I didn’t address him as:
My Foolish Friend!
Which is what I rated him for:
Absolutely Foolish—
Honestly so.

“Listen to me instead,”
I ordered him.
“You may speak later.”

Here I took a long pause.
And he stood dumb.

“This world, this life is spiritual in nature
But you are a spiritual desert.”
I told him plainly.
“Our Holy Prophet’s name is recited
Billions of times every day;
Our Holy Book is preached hundreds of millions of times
Pious Allah is glorified all over the globe
One million times every second
Adhan is heard three hundred thousand times every minute….

“Hindus preach Gita,
Recite mantras and bhajans,
Conduct Satsangs,
Worship their deities…
Billions of times each year…

“Christians run billions of discourses, articles, discussions,
They distribute Bibles
And conduct uncountable activities

He tried to pass some comment
But I was alert to forestall him.

I continued:

“The list of spiritual activities
Of humankind is inexhaustible.
The greatness of human beings
Is at par with angels now…
But you are wasting your life
And exhausting your time
In nonsense.

“Allah has bestowed you talent
You can understand, discuss and explain philosophy,
You can explain Zero and Infinity,
You can give enthralling discourses
On religious texts
And the Holiness of Allah
You can compose hymns and psalms
And you can sing
Far better than billions of people…
You can earn honor of all people,
You can become renowned,
You can acquire superabundance of wealth,
And comforts
For yourself and all your kith and kin…

“But Devil has possessed you.
You care for none of these…”

Here I paused for arranging my ideas.
And he managed to utter:
“This has been going on for thousands of years,”

“So what?”
I asked by error,
For I was not inclined to listen anything he wanted to speak.
And he managed to tell it to my face:

“Hundreds of the generations of my forefathers
Have been doing the same thing
I too have heard about the glory of Allah’s
And Prophet’s names
Many times daily.
I have also been taught Koran
Thousands of times so far
In which thousands of hours of my life
Have already been spent.
This is our history…”

I stopped him short, because I had been enraged.
“What do you know about history?” I uttered furiously,
“You know nothing.
I know the world history much better than
The greatest professor of world history.
And I can swear
I know it much better.
Our civilization is superb.
It goes back to more than 7000 years.
We are all,
That is all human beings are,
The descendants and adorers
Of the Tribe of Yazidis.
We love the ancient warlords, heroes and deities
Of our savage and barbarian tribe and time,
And we are confident that they have
An utterly glorious future…
And we are proud of ourselves
And our helplessness.
Our helplessness is our Allah.
Our Allah is our helplessness.
But we live
To impress one another
In vain
And deceive ourselves,
For we know clearly that everybody
Generally rates
Every other person for
A fool.
But we, in fact, live to plunder, enslave, humiliate,
Degrade, fleece, rape, murder or punish one another.
This is our past 7000 years’ history…”

I cut myself short. For I was myself puzzled
At what I had just heard myself saying.

I turned silent.
I knew I had committed a sacrilege of speech.
I needed to atone for it.
I remained mum.

He found his opportunity to suggest,
“I wanted to share my understanding with you about
Classes, property and its origin,
Statics and dynamics of capitalism, feudalism, slavery,
Society, world history, capital, surplus value,
Anatomy and diseases of the State,
Wars, unemployment,
Poverty, illiteracy, wretchedness,
Religion, politics, philosophy,
What is to be done, etc.,
Anyone of these topics for today.”

“OK.” I said for courtesy,
“But it must be short.”

“How short?”

“For about five minutes.”

“No. Any of the above topics will need more than an hour at least.”

“It is too much” I retorted, “to demand
An hour from a man like me,
Who has been at
Work in the office for the day.
You can speak for five minutes
And that is much more than sufficient
For any topic in the world…
Ei yeah.” I yawned.

“You are feeling drowsy.
Sleep!” He suggested.

“No. You can go ahead on your topic
For five minutes.”
I felt it my honor to speak so.

“No. In order to have a meaningful debate”
He explained,
“And better understanding
Of the world we live in
I need
At least
Your one hour everyday
Or every week
Or as you like it
Or as you can mange it—
I need at least your twenty-five hours’ time
Over ten days
Or less
Or more
Over a short period of time.”

“Ei yeah.” I yawned again.

“Sleep!” he suggested again.

“Yes, Good Night!
I shall inform you when I can spare
An hour for you.” I promised.

And he left.
And I went to sleep.

Seventy-two years have passed since then.
I’m ninety five years by age now—
And at the verge of my grave.

I spent my time
Career development,
Purchasing a living place,
Marriage pleasures and anxieties,
Bringing up children,
And worrying about my health…

I spent two decades of my total earnings
On purchasing a living space,
One decade’s salary for the education of my children,
One and a half decade’s total emoluments
For my daughter’s marriage
For her dowry and other things
[And she took divorce from her husband
within five years of that marriage]
And my entire pension so far on medicine, etc.

As far the self-propelled “Revolutionary”
He lived in our society till he was forty years
I never went to meet him
I had never the slightest bit of curiosity or interest
In knowing about
What was happening in our society;
Why was it happening;
What were our and others’ prospects
For future?
But the Arrant Fool
Calling himself a Revolutionary
Wanted not just curiosity
Or interest
But yearning
For knowing
These things.

He was gravely disappointed perhaps
With all of us, his classmates and relatives.

“I bid you good bye!”
He sent me a note, fifty-five years ago,
Seventeen years after our last conversation.

“Good Bye! Take Care!”
I replied him in my heart of hearts.

Somebody reported that
At the point of crossing the border
Of our world
He shook off the dust from his shoes,
And vestments
And he took a bath…

Nothing was heard about him thereafter.

Nothing was heard about him thereafter.

I spent thousands of hours in pure gossip,
Thousands of more hours
In scolding my wife or arguing with her over trifles;
Thousands of hours
In worrying about my children’s welfare;
Thousands of more hours
In talking about debauches’ adventures and whores’ fetes;
Thousands of hours in watching and discussing nonsense and movies;
Twenty thousand hours or more
In prayers;
Twenty thousand or more hours
In listening to and pleasing Mullahs
And other spiritual leaders…

I have truly lived a complete life!

And today, at the verge of my grave,
I wonder
Why did he wish to
Bring into my knowledge all those useless things
That he had desired?

Was it to end unemployment and negative or destructive employment
And spare me
From having to purchase a Flat,
Or spend so much on the education of my children
Or for my daughter’s marriage
Or for my medical care?

Did he mean to make all these things free?
Can these be free?

Is ending unemployment possible?
Did he mean to develop the intellect, strength and independence
Of women
And deprive me of the heroics, engagement, entertainment, pleasure,
Misery and, at times, even wretchedness
Of having to argue, scold or even abuse my wife lifelong?

Kings, Queens, Princes and Princesses
Are always venerable.
On the seventy-fifth birth anniversary
Of a Benevolent Socialist His Majesty
They distributed blankets
For shielding people from winter
It was a supreme event
Which one and all enjoyed
With absolute revelry
And Lord was in euphoria,
He needed a sacrifice,
And my neighbor’s daughter
Was trampled to death on the spot
To achieve Lord’s objective…

With all these thoughts
Comes another thought as well to me.
The glimpses of my great granddaughter
Who was kidnapped—they
Demanded a huge ransom money.
We could no way arrange that much.
Nobody would lend us—
The nicest and wisest people on earth: as we truly are—
For saving her life…
Her throat was slit open.

And we feel honored
By her great sacrifice
For the freedom
And welfare
Of the people of this great country,
And this great civilization
That goes beyond 7000 past years.
I have truly lived
A full life…

Zihannasheen (November 23, 2014)

Posted by: Ron DuBour | December 19, 2014

Daily missive for Friday the 19th of December.~by Peter Forster



Daily missive for Friday the 19th of December.

Clouds move at a different pace.
There is a hierarchy,
With ill-formed
Wispy, misty twirls,
Scudding hurriedly along,
Brushing the skirts,
Of the slow moving
Birds swirl,
They seem to know,
And put on a show,
Before moving out.
Ahead of the storm,
The seasonal rout,
That brings misery
To Christmas, begins
Its annual reign.
As suddenly,
It is winter again.

Bad news stories
Have soon arrived,
To fill the news this festive tide.
And headline checkers,
Indulge in a bout
Of schadenfraude
At another’s expense.
They mean no offence,
Is what they say,
In their own smug way,
Tipping a wink
Whilst raising a drink,
Glad to know
It is you,
And not them,
Who might need a bed
In Bethlehem.
This Christmas.

Posted by: Ron DuBour | December 19, 2014

Ever flowing through my life~by Mary Cecil



Ever flowing through my life

Ever flowing through my life
Dreams that capture my mind
And carry me to other realms
Where timeless enchantment shines

If I were not me, who would I be?
If I were not here, what would I see?
The burning ambitions of life
The irrelevant human concerns

And when all ceases
Will I begin again?
And forget that once
I dreamt these dreams

Mary Cecil

Posted by: Ron DuBour | December 19, 2014


Originally posted on Roxi St. Clair:


I want to write poetry so moving,
that it would make an onion cry.

© Roxi St. Clair

View original

Posted by: Ron DuBour | December 19, 2014

Architectural Features

Originally posted on Poesy plus Polemics:

"Mount St Hilarion and the Castle Ruins" Painting by David Bomberg From

“Mount St Hilarion and the Castle Ruins”
Painting by David Bomberg

silver princes gold kings
rule castled demesnes
ersatz power turns gears
lifts the drawbridge and
drops the portcullis thus
sealing illusions of safety
defending the keep from
a rabble who know that
true majesty reigns where
the apse bears the altar
feigned loyalty paid to a
fortified throne biding
time till the trumpets of
faith tumble ramparts of
masoned authority leaving
the cottage of wattle the
post and beam barn and
the timber trussed church
free to function as small
discrete centers of power
each hamlet in charge of
its popular destiny paved
with the battlement stones
once aligned upon towers
enforcing the mythical
tenets and rubrics of royalty

View original



………. Echoic Heart…….,,

The rare echo of lover’s heart,
The loving beats sound..
Silently, pleasing my heart,
Arresting my sensuous nerves,
Alluring my veins to dance,
Appealing, my senses becalm,
Unable to move through lack of charm,
Echo of inner amorous song,
Heartily singing lovely love rhymes
Reciting the sound caused by
The reflection of sensuous waves,
From the surface of heart, beats
Back to my lovely, echoic listener
Running in body,soul and mind,
The heaven’s sound,earthly-divine,
Intoxicating my sensory thrills,
Overpowering, accordion,, banjo,
Flute, guitar, cello, drum, dulcimer.
Resounding of heartbeats of love,
Fully controlled my heart’s artery,
The aortic valve,pulmonary vein, atrium.
Ringing all, echoic ravishing virtuous tunes,
Fascinating,thrilling, electrifying love echoes.
Amusing, captivating, stimulating my all.
The rare inner pleasures of life’s love song.
© Dr. Satyender Parkash Nanda “Aas”. 16-12-2014

Posted by: Ron DuBour | December 18, 2014

THE SEASONS OF LIFE~by Heather Burns



A weaver sits
among the beautiful
threads weaving a
glorious tapestry
brilliant colors
reflect the seasons
of life.

Spring offers
many hues of green
ever so soothing
when hearts are young
happy and care free
having a promise for
still young enough to
believe dreams will
come true.

Oh those days of summer
with wonderful hot reds
thinking we have found
our hearts delight
enjoying the heat of
the season passion

Then Autumn turns leaves
to many shades of gold
and cascade to the ground
Leaving painted pictures
lying around. Looking at
life differently
knowledge obtainable.

Finally the majestic
days of winter, silver
threads carefully enter-
in retrospect the greens
reds, golds, and silver
threads have created
the wonderful seasons
of life.

copyright by heather burns




Heart,love, easy victims of beauty
Eyes attracting amorous serenity,
Rainbow-colours of sunny rays,
Silken shines of flashing faces,
Intellect, wit, wisdom in cages,
Reflections from skinny mirrors,
Mislead vision,illusive colours,
Heart, fallows, moving shadows,
Which hide all realistic ardours,
Natural glows of beauty, grace,
Overpower swiftly fading rays,
Eyelids tremble,unable to watch,
Scrolling all visionary balls?
Brightness covers,blackness all?
Decaying charm, hypnotic haul?
Blood, water, fire, flesh, bones;
Air,tender skin,passions cyclones?
Covered fully darkness, in nylon?

© Dr. Satyender Parkssh Nanda”Aas”. 19-12-2014

Posted by: Ron DuBour | December 18, 2014

Truth and Consequences~by Vensan Kamberk



Truth and Consequences

It does not have to be a secret to spread
besides with whom do you care to share
who can cope with it, who wouldn’t dare
to really give a darn, most certainly care
about the truth regarding why and where
we’re sharing this moment now and here
the premise to unconditional trust is near.

Consider for an instant, everything in the open
in total transparency, we can see through it all
fibs have nowhere to hide, nothing can escape
all is in clarity, precisely revealed as the whole
the herds have been in total darkness for ages
abruptly exposed to much blinding illumination
should they not handle it, there’ll be damnation.

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