Poetry competition CLOSED 29th November 2016 12:17pm
WINNER
Pishashee
Pishashee
RUNNER-UP:
whale
ANCESTORS
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
I am a part of everything
i am the french isles
that flow through Canada
i remember the smell
of my grandfather
and his farther before
the smell of syrup and maple leaves
I am a Greek gypsy
I travel high and far
with my siblings and siblings before
travelling through scorching lands
I am British
as common as can be
like my mother and grandmother before
the heart of large families
and homemade roast dinners
I am part of everything
the moon , sun and wind
I am part of everything
and so are you too.
i am the french isles
that flow through Canada
i remember the smell
of my grandfather
and his farther before
the smell of syrup and maple leaves
I am a Greek gypsy
I travel high and far
with my siblings and siblings before
travelling through scorching lands
I am British
as common as can be
like my mother and grandmother before
the heart of large families
and homemade roast dinners
I am part of everything
the moon , sun and wind
I am part of everything
and so are you too.
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Sisu Haiku
I could never find
that which gave me darkened hair
and a will to roam;
my painted war horse
arises and makes me run
to silent places,
where Indians trod
the forest paths before me.
I am half of them,
nomadic in soul.
Alabaster skin, betrays
a stoicism
silently boiling,
ripe from the homeland, Suomi,
where ice lives in eyes
of a world in snow.
I am maddeningly calm
yet roil with the flames
of land’s Native blood
while Marimekko basks on
the walls of my home.
(My ancestry: Native American Indian and Finnish)
I could never find
that which gave me darkened hair
and a will to roam;
my painted war horse
arises and makes me run
to silent places,
where Indians trod
the forest paths before me.
I am half of them,
nomadic in soul.
Alabaster skin, betrays
a stoicism
silently boiling,
ripe from the homeland, Suomi,
where ice lives in eyes
of a world in snow.
I am maddeningly calm
yet roil with the flames
of land’s Native blood
while Marimekko basks on
the walls of my home.
(My ancestry: Native American Indian and Finnish)
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Sacred Equinox
When her grandfather was chief elder, and
blessed his granddaughter, holding her in offering,
spirit voices of the seven caves
could still be heard, echoing through the canyons.
Beyond desert yucca stalks from pine-pitch torches,
moon besets Scorpio's firebrands o'er the priestess,
who's onyx eyes blaze of what she will consume
and may destroy, yellow woman & black panther.
Elder sibling to the Jaguar, only she remains
from the heresy of her wisdom on this night
of the equinox, when waters of Pueblo Mesa
spring forth to flow and part the cliffs,
to reclaim, to scatter rattlers from their mounds.
With memories intact, of those gone, on the
spirit wind of sky riders generations before,
and the updrafts that carry kachina prayers
and offerings on their breath amid
sweet cedar smoke of mesquite sap & rendered fat.
Her bronze hands fill with indigo berries of woodbine,
touching the four corners, the green pain of flint & flesh,
of red clay daughter & black earth mother, invoking
peyote spells among the ruins, and the silent Joshua.
When her grandfather was chief elder, and
blessed his granddaughter, holding her in offering,
spirit voices of the seven caves
could still be heard, echoing through the canyons.
Beyond desert yucca stalks from pine-pitch torches,
moon besets Scorpio's firebrands o'er the priestess,
who's onyx eyes blaze of what she will consume
and may destroy, yellow woman & black panther.
Elder sibling to the Jaguar, only she remains
from the heresy of her wisdom on this night
of the equinox, when waters of Pueblo Mesa
spring forth to flow and part the cliffs,
to reclaim, to scatter rattlers from their mounds.
With memories intact, of those gone, on the
spirit wind of sky riders generations before,
and the updrafts that carry kachina prayers
and offerings on their breath amid
sweet cedar smoke of mesquite sap & rendered fat.
Her bronze hands fill with indigo berries of woodbine,
touching the four corners, the green pain of flint & flesh,
of red clay daughter & black earth mother, invoking
peyote spells among the ruins, and the silent Joshua.
Anonymous
.:kmadu.-r.o.o.t.s-.kjv~duh.entire.book.of.revelations:.
.:I.was.made.inna.sanitized.lab.in.Silicon.Valley:>
.:they.put.me.inna.movie:.
.:butt,they.got.pissed.cuz.I.was.runnin'...evryting:.
.:duh.astronaut.disconnected.my.mainframe:>
.:so.much.for.movies:>
>:now.I.sing.about.daisies.inna.Brooklyn.smokey,bar:.
.:it's.titled.~daisy~:.
.:Imma.tryin'.to.forget.about.my.roots:.
.understand???<<<
.:I.was.made.inna.sanitized.lab.in.Silicon.Valley:>
.:they.put.me.inna.movie:.
.:butt,they.got.pissed.cuz.I.was.runnin'...evryting:.
.:duh.astronaut.disconnected.my.mainframe:>
.:so.much.for.movies:>
>:now.I.sing.about.daisies.inna.Brooklyn.smokey,bar:.
.:it's.titled.~daisy~:.
.:Imma.tryin'.to.forget.about.my.roots:.
.understand???<<<
Mestizo
When I look up my family ancestry
Somewhere along
Due to war, the lines are broken
Through the years
Many of them have been dispersed
When I hear my family tell their stories
I write them down
I try to memorize as much as I can
So I can tell my sons
Where we all come from
A combination of different nations
But still of the same origins
When I hear the sound of drums
I hear the echo from long ago
The chants of my ancestors
Praying to the gods and spirits
Those ancient civilizations
Who built pyramids
And were rich in gold
Native warriors who
Were overcome
By settlers of the old world
I think of the decimation
Of war
Conquest and disease
But still
The fighting spirit kept on
I am a descendant of both worlds
An offspring of intermixing
A descendant
Of war and peace
But after the many centuries
The native tongues and dialects
Have dwindled
Into something of legend and fable
I honor them
At my dinner table
My early kindred spirits
A mystery
As in the food we make we celebrate
As the songs commemorate
We pray and pay homage
To their ancient and untold history
This I tell my sons
So that one day they can tell their children
And for generations to come
When I look up my family ancestry
Somewhere along
Due to war, the lines are broken
Through the years
Many of them have been dispersed
When I hear my family tell their stories
I write them down
I try to memorize as much as I can
So I can tell my sons
Where we all come from
A combination of different nations
But still of the same origins
When I hear the sound of drums
I hear the echo from long ago
The chants of my ancestors
Praying to the gods and spirits
Those ancient civilizations
Who built pyramids
And were rich in gold
Native warriors who
Were overcome
By settlers of the old world
I think of the decimation
Of war
Conquest and disease
But still
The fighting spirit kept on
I am a descendant of both worlds
An offspring of intermixing
A descendant
Of war and peace
But after the many centuries
The native tongues and dialects
Have dwindled
Into something of legend and fable
I honor them
At my dinner table
My early kindred spirits
A mystery
As in the food we make we celebrate
As the songs commemorate
We pray and pay homage
To their ancient and untold history
This I tell my sons
So that one day they can tell their children
And for generations to come
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Unconquered
Blue face paint, known as wode
Marked our faces as warriors
With a fearsome reputation
Fighting machines, well oiled
No understanding of surrender
Never flew a white flag
Never showed any fear
Protecting our lands and people
Against all comers
Even the might
Of the Roman Empire
Could not conquer us
Even with the rest of
Britain enslaved
We were invincible
They built a wall
To keep us in
Too scared to attack
These naked warriors
These crazy highlanders
This Pictish hoard
No surrender, no retreat
A proud nation
Never been conquered
The shrill of the pipes
Still makes the hairs
On the back of my neck
Stand to attention
Bonnie Scotland
Bonnie Scots
Always up for a fight
As long as the cause
Is righteous
Blue face paint, known as wode
Marked our faces as warriors
With a fearsome reputation
Fighting machines, well oiled
No understanding of surrender
Never flew a white flag
Never showed any fear
Protecting our lands and people
Against all comers
Even the might
Of the Roman Empire
Could not conquer us
Even with the rest of
Britain enslaved
We were invincible
They built a wall
To keep us in
Too scared to attack
These naked warriors
These crazy highlanders
This Pictish hoard
No surrender, no retreat
A proud nation
Never been conquered
The shrill of the pipes
Still makes the hairs
On the back of my neck
Stand to attention
Bonnie Scotland
Bonnie Scots
Always up for a fight
As long as the cause
Is righteous
Way of the Gray
L and G lead the pack,
stalwarts of victories,
BTQ followed behind,
red-haired step children.
Neither fish nor fowl,
lukewarm, not hot or cold,
that's what they are.
B accused of stealth,
disingenuous,
for being the hedonistic ones.
T is neither up nor down.
Couldn't they just
make up their minds.
Respect garnered for the leaders L and G,
derision for the outliers,
T and Q the minority within.
Standing outside huddled masses,
no man's land of society,
condemned by both sides.
The polarity purity is dissatisfied,
the practiced measurements fall short.
Wired from birth becomes
mentally disturbed.
Non-harassment is our victory,
cray cousins in the mix,
this is the way of the gray.
© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.
L and G lead the pack,
stalwarts of victories,
BTQ followed behind,
red-haired step children.
Neither fish nor fowl,
lukewarm, not hot or cold,
that's what they are.
B accused of stealth,
disingenuous,
for being the hedonistic ones.
T is neither up nor down.
Couldn't they just
make up their minds.
Respect garnered for the leaders L and G,
derision for the outliers,
T and Q the minority within.
Standing outside huddled masses,
no man's land of society,
condemned by both sides.
The polarity purity is dissatisfied,
the practiced measurements fall short.
Wired from birth becomes
mentally disturbed.
Non-harassment is our victory,
cray cousins in the mix,
this is the way of the gray.
© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
The last of us
Does our journey
through the pain and the torture
the rivers of blood
the sacrifices
that we
and our familys
have endured
down through the ages
does it all
end here
has the silent war
that our ancestors fought
so hard
to keep us alive
to bring us back
from the edge
has it all
been in vain
Slowly we are dieing
one by one
while we remain
scattered on this earth
does it all end
here
in this century
the final closeing of the circle
that haunts us
from the past
where greed and ignorance
once again achives
the destruction of our World
where directed chaos
breaks the bones
of our tatterd dreams
to reunite
different colors
different cultures
to reunite
the one tribe
that will bind us
the one tribe
that will set Free
our birth right
the right to be
a Human being
.:The Transatlantic Slave Trade:.
Started out
Upon Bushmen Shores
Profits made - made Amazing Scores
But D’evil Chiefs were cutting deals
Brethren sold - lives were sealed
The involved? No doubt
Had included Moors
Wasn’t us on any Tourist Tours
Placed on ships for Western Trips
Chains encircling.. Hips-to-Hips
Alkebu-lan
We lost our Home
No longer “free”
They say we “owned”
Adaptation crept our pores
Whereas many succumbed to festered sores
The Diaspora...
Quite damned & strange
Whole Lifestyles were rearranged
No getaway;
Least for most
New World Order, cried D’evil Host
In a Land so far away
This Pale Savage had his way
Generations - Millions died
T’was our lot - upon “This Ride”
Tales passed down; remembered well
That Unwelcome Grasp
of an Earthly
Hell
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
