louis gander, 20 january 2013
Dear Lord and Savior, hear my prayer -
help me comprehend and share...
...please touch my eyes, that I might view -
in ways a blind man might see You...
...please touch my ears, that I might learn -
in ways a deaf man might discern...
...please touch my nose, that I might smell -
Your perfumes where Your flowers dwell...
...please touch my lips, so I can speak -
so bravely bold, yet ever meek...
...please touch my hands, that I might show -
Your awesome works to souls below.
...please touch my feet, without delay -
so I can walk - what others say...
...then touch my heart, from there above,
so I can give - and others love.
Amen.
©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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Kahlia Mazacalletti, 20 january 2013
I am lost-I need that game CLUE
I feel like I have been through a war
I have been captured and tortured
But maybe I can escape-I do not know
I don't have my dog-tags
13 rounds of ammunition
Still trying to dig out bullets
I am definately the private here
And getting court-martialed
Do I get a medal for Valor or just a commendation......?
Should I re-enlist?
Someday My war will be over and I can live in Peace
Please call the paramedics, I am wounded
Please call the M.P.'s, I have been assaulted
I need a helmet just to protect my mind
They even murdered Jesus and He suffered more than HE should have
I have to walk into the opposing force head-on
And I do not have a white flag.......
Kahlia Mazacalletti, 20 january 2013
Freeztag-Like my body having Frostbite
My body has this horrific Chill
I am Poker Face on the Outside
And silent on the Inside-Freeze
That mannaquin Freeze-Frame
A refusal; A mindset
Fill another Ice Cube Dispenser-Freeze
I am standing in this OH-SO Icy Pose
Will the Blackness ever go away?
Soon the sun shall come out and Melt Freezetag
And maybe I will be happy again..............
steven cooke, 20 january 2013
An Englishman lost in afternoon tea,
Memories of a lotus flower love
Rajas and elephants in Delhi
Livingstone the explorer
Religion to convert
Laurence of Arabia
A leader of men
The Boers and the Zulus
Gordon and Khartoum
These are the things that shook the world
Silk and Cotton,
The wealth of Empire
Earl Mountbatten our man in Burma
The cry of Bombay and Ceylon
Oblivious to a young man’s dream
England was the world
Her Empire was great
For the sun never did sett
On her wealth
The jewel in this noble crown
Yet History was not kind
Exploitation her crime
Though civilisation came hand in hand
For Freedom we planted
Democracy you chanted
The union jack you did burn
And what have you learned
Greed breeds poverty in silence
Sectarian dogma your anthem
Murder by the chosen few
How flourishes your tree
When your morals all flee
With bombs in the souk
And murder by troops
Education restricted
The poor evicted
To make way for corruption
And tyrants consumption
Look to the horizon
For there lies Britain
It's empire gone
But our pride lingers on
Can your freedom say the same?
Or is oil to blame?
Who shall we accuse?
For your freedoms abuse?
Not the British
Love us or hate us
England brought you civilisation
And civilisation lives on
In this green and pleasant land
Sasha Damien, 20 january 2013
I am insomniac through memories, I stumble
Hard to resist, the lure so unceasing,
You go missing, and hope I walk with phantoms
Turn away truth, sweep off your footprints
Live away from me, your solo nights haunted
Hunting for your sleep, feeding shadows
The stars and the lone moon thru my ghost hands
Strain to reach your skies still, spangling echoes
Ignorance tossed a poisoned knife, one morning
Caught rage in her dark hair, her sanity broken
Her facts stripped, layers away from your winters
How do you breathe now, away from us
Fly with me again, ride the winds we always do
Angels in exile don’t lose their silver wings
Wake up early tomorrow, catch the dawn for me
Cried a fallen angel, and God cried helpless too…
Sasha Damien, 20 january 2013
Letters etched into her mornings lie frayed
The author’s ritual, a prerogative waned
Words lie lost on abandoned shores
Little temples destroyed by harsh faith
She walks alone to the dawn each day,
Rising from promises muddied by his absence
Looking out for him, insane reasons to find him
Tracing futures out from his distant footprints
Waiting by the shores, her fragility bared
Silent footfalls echo his lost music notes
Hope torn apart, too mangled to sing
Crashing waves, her sanity stung
Wake him up memories, don’t turn him traitor
Mazes wind all destinies known to mankind
She lives on the brink of stolen futures
Spiraling alone, falling into her last dance…
Sasha Damien, 20 january 2013
They fly over lives, goddesses of change
Casting shadows in time, turning sanctuaries
Decaying claims crumble old and bored
To lilting choices raised from silent calls for help
They shrug off barren minds, limping handicapped
Smiling their victory at rage and helplessness
A broken heart sometimes, a call answered nevertheless
To bring lives together that went astray on familiarity
These angels though wing on, dancing tireless to the mystery
No spite or ignorance bruise their morphing realities
Guardians of keep, they tender forgotten hopes
An adulterous spoke to a wheel that needs the strength
Warping on, their work always seen in distortion
They pulse in networks of veiled wants and lustre
Their purity known and felt by souls they have touched
Lie harpooned by the rest of a world that has lost…
Satish Verma, 20 january 2013
Not moving, the words
had gone into inertia. The space was shrinking.
Only restlessness was there in buoyancy
ready to distort the sound of depth.
I am expanding in propriety,
in meaning.
Pure burning on flame of truth,
like a moth.
Listen to the guilt,
the denial to the stasis of soul.
The loneliness brings the touch
of unlimited falls.
Satish Verma
Eva from Barcelona, 20 january 2013
we choose some people
to heal us
it is to be stuborn
cause not always
they can do it ( very often do not )
but we stick to the idea
so we need healing
but just for them
if from others
makes us even more sick
anybody
any clue?
louis gander, 19 january 2013
Grownups seem so funny. They never seem to change.
‘Specially my ol’ grandma. She always acted strange.
Peculiar smells escaped out when she opened up her door.
And as I stepped into her house - heard creaking in the floor.
She seemed a bit hunched over. She wasn't very thin.
Her teeth would sometimes chatter when she moved her double chin.
She decorated very nice. A corner held the broom.
And she'd have her nylons hanging ‘round the living room....
God made grandma special. Her cooking, Heaven sent.
She hadn't much to offer but she really was content.
She was always cooking with her hair back in a bun.
And always had her apron on – had little time for fun.
Sometimes I got in trouble taking cookies from her jar....
The crumbs would seem to mark my sin. I didn't get too far.
One day we had a party. She cried when she was glad.
She cried when she was happy too and cried when she was sad.
Once she claimed I was in sin. I asked her what she meant,
So she opened up her Bible and read a whole event.
I had so many questions that she took me by the hand,
She had so many answers that I couldn’t understand.
She said God loved so deeply and - death held the only key,
So back behind the bloodstains Jesus had to die for me.
Maybe sin is so disgusting that - love has to be unfair,
And maybe that's why grandma cried - when she knelt down in prayer.
When I got hurt, she kissed it well. She was the "best-est" nurse,
Then she said, "Be careful" quoting yet another verse.
She often looked so busy. She sometimes looked quite weak;
But when I left, she always had the time to kiss my cheek.
I miss my grandma very much. She died some time ago.
But when she spoke of Jesus, her face was all aglow.
When I close my eyes I see - that same familiar face,
Reminding me of Jesus and God's everlasting grace.
©2007 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
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