( A poem I wrote many months ago when muslims were being killed in Palestine, Syria, Iraq, but it still applies in recent refreshed genocide of Palestinians)

Wars round the corner,      
wars at every bend      
Could it be that all this warring  
  would never ever end?      
     
Mass massacre and genocide      
is what we fear and apprehend     
Selfish apartheid oppressing poor folks      
On suppressing others they depend!      
     
Why can't folks borrow love      
and peace too learn to lend?      
For peace-loving persons      wars are hard to comprehend      
     
But in which blessed century      
will the world its ways amend?    
Why not be all sincere      
when peace they recommend?      
   Its hard to not avenge the dead      
So to revenge and defend      
some will feel the need to offend   
 Yet the oppressed dying more is the trend    
   
Why can't we all as Adam's progeny      
simply unite and blend?      
The world's tearing apart,     which saviour's gonna mend?    
 
When the scissors of tyranny      
all peace efforts ruthlessly rend!    

 When will all the saviours      from heavenly heaven descend?      
So we watch and hear all war cries      
unto thin air ascend!      
When peace be the only choice,      
the only probable trend!      
     
Ah, instead of fending off war drums      
why peace plans off we fend?      
Why peace is so complicated      
with double standards at every bend?      
     
Will all state treasuries on aggression alone      
their budgets, finances spend?     
Why can't every foe we know      
turn into a caring friend?        
So we're stalked by friendship    
 and ambushed by love godsend!    
 A world where warlords      and  war heroes become zeroes   
 who in the first place did offend.

  With peace may no nation      
merely play and pretend!      
Hypocrisy is calling freedom fighters terrorists      while their State bombing and shelling  never end.

𝐼 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑢𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑒
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠,
𝐶𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠;
𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟'𝑠 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑣𝑒𝑖𝑙,
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑜𝑚 𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑡...
𝑂𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑠ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠,
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑜𝑚 𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑡...
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒
𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑠
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑠
𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑎
𝐽𝑎𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑟𝑢𝑏 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑡
𝐴𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑦𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑
𝐺𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠...
𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠;
𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒
𝐵𝑖𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒;
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑏𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑛🎈
𝑇ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝐿𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠...
𝑀𝑦 𝑜𝑣𝑎𝑟𝑦 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝑡𝑠
𝑆𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑎
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑛
𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑚𝑦 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑏
𝑀𝑦 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑦
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑤𝑠...
𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔
𝑀𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑓
𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠
𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒
𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑓
𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑒...
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒,
𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒
𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑦𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡
𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟
𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔...
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑛,
𝑆ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒
𝑦𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒...
𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝑜
𝑊𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢
𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑎 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑒 𝑠𝑘𝑦
𝐵𝑒ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒...
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑠ℎ,
𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑝𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠
𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑠ℎ,
𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑝𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠
𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔
𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑝𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑠...
𝐼 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑖𝑠ℎ
𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠...
𝑀𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑛...!
𝑀𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑛...!
𝑂ℎ, 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑛!
𝐼 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑦...
𝐼 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦....

blue fire surrounds you
tints you sacred
extends itself in waves
to all who meet you
saves
them from their ignorance
and the a-theism of their minds
saves
them from their dis-ease of the heart
begins to bond them to themselves
and baptizes them in the Blood

this is no strange fire
it is the fire of the burning bush
the fire that leads by night
and is smoke by day
ever present in the wilderness
of exodus:
the blue fire of Love


c. 2023 Roberta Compton Rainwater

Beneath the colours of the butterfly wing
A brighter world awaits the coming of the king
Wish it all past
Make light clean shade
This realm is alive
A stranger hidden glade
For this world exists but not as it seems
To reach it alone rely on your dreams
The others who are there will follow you true
As sleep passes by and life is anew

In marriage,
Should be like a bricks in
the brick wall,
Each strengthening the other.
25/11/2023

~
Lift the veil from a grayscale morning. Vividly imagistic. An odalisque no more.

Her shape beneath the gown is a foreign land, a series of quiet revelations. Its pattern manifests as pinpricks of light perforating the shirred fabric of his heart.

The preponderance of dream in her eyes becomes a call and response evoking purely imaginary spaces. The contained chemistry is beautifully insular, monochromatic.

And there her lips. Into claustrophobic kiss. This lower register of love comes in unadorned, subtle colorings like the darkest part of night.

One thousand shades of gray.
One single light of white.
And everything merges in the night.
~