Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Andreas Simic Jun 12
Everyone would call her a hero
Carrying yet another soon to be orphaned child to safety
Leading group after group destined for destruction
Down the railway track of hope
Fighting not only the threat of death
But nature’s cold frigid grasp
Her own safety in the balance every time
She returned over and over again
Man, woman or child equally saved
The risks were great the reward greater
In a time and age of war
With no regards to race, color or creed
Cruelty unbound
She plodded on
Exhaustion filling the mind with thoughts of giving up
Yet her drive and spirit refused to cave in
Each trip meant more would live
How could she stop now
One day when all was said and done
Would they remember her or her deeds
It didn’t matter because this was about them
She knew the way
And would light the path
To a life which would grow and flourish
Her reward the look of relief on their faces
When they realized they had made it to the end of the line
Freedom was waiting

Andreas Simic©
irinia Mar 4
tanks are marching over my soul
bombs are dynamite for sight
it is unbearable
(if you can't ease)
the pain
the anger
the grief
helplessness and terror
they sculpture our souls
raising citadelles to dwell

I weep words for time not to freeze
it is cruelty that shuts down the mind

countless lives are played at the roulette
the geometry of power is mutilating everything
especially the birth of reality
my fragility like velvet
is soft to touch.
the trajectory of erratic steps,
the fragility and the strength of the world
are visible through bones of glass

hatred is a force that keeps the center spinning,
not turning into a black hole

we are close
the tyrant pushes himself on the brink
the naive world has fortgotten -
tanks are marching over
bodies carrying
the brightest of light -
the event-horizon
of death
Rob-bigfoot Feb 6
Ivory traders
Many blood-soaked hands – such shame!
Evil soiled trinkets

© Robert Porteus
Starting to embrace the haiku format. Not always easy. The syllable count throws up surprises!
This world...our world , got it's differences..
It held a beautiful statistics..a brilliant geometry of lives..

People sketched, the unnecessary graphs..
in the name of castes , colour , gender , nationality and what not!!
Hence created the ugliest line of division..
about ,who can be the numerator and be above the community line..
and who can be the denominator and live under the poverty line..

Some crafted wealthiest names..while others had to hide their tears under unfinished roofs..
Some  chased for their own rise...while others have to eat the only rotten rice..

Multiplied the division deliberately..
Added up the differences wanting-ly..

We should evaporate the boundaries ,  we drew in our life's charts....
should redefine our lives ,  to decrease the death rates...

Let's choose humanity over cruelty..
Helping over hindering..
Love over hate..

Remember ,we all are alike..
'cause every being has to make their first cry after birth..
'cause every being has it's last breath..
every being has to breathe till death..
every being have to bleed when cut..
Math's creating the difference!!
Science finding the solution..
Humanity is being jailed behind the bars of human's hearts!!!
Carlo C Gomez Jan 12
Poor deluded brute
he waves his sword
in orchestration
to a ruthless symphony
played for miserable centuries:
the running of the bulls
"sketches of pain"
some monsters come
decked out in hat and cape
inside the arena of his pride
where he hears the chant
within the arts of
cowardice and cruelty
where he envisions
the feathered crown

Gala! Gala!
"how to see the toreador"
lost as San Fermín
pricked by hairpin
pierced by ragged horn
suerte de la muerte (luck of death)
foreshadowing Hemingway
turns into the troubled sun
and underneath his muleta
a deep red
blood alchemy
his fame spilling out
in drips and drabs
as the crowd sings
'Pobre de Mí (Poor Me)'
to the mystic stab of church bells

Lawrence Hall Nov 2021
Lawrence Hall

                          Putting All the Hearts Back Together

A child who takes a clock apart to see
Just how it works can easily be forgiven

Someone who takes a heart apart to see
Just how that works is justly unforgiven
A poem is itself.
Nomkhumbulwa Aug 2021
Today you were taken….

Today you were taken
Your life abruptly ended
All of a sudden
Cruelty bared naked

The sadness is deep
A sorrow so painful
We miss you so much Timmy
The shock still palpable

How can this be?
Such a beautiful young soul
So quickly taken
Your body in a hole

You didn’t want rest
You didn’t want peace
You were so full of life
You wanted to hunt, and eat cheese

It was not your time
Such as evil intervenes
Barely two years old
Natural causes take time

I am so sorry Timmy
That this had to happen
No words can express
The deep pain left within

May your spirit continue to bless and watch over us, you are forever welcome.

We hold you so dear,
Your loving friends- both here and afar. For you are so loved.
I am new apologies
Jade May 2021
It’s tough “love”
tough love
Desktop Site:

Mobile Site:

Instagram: _poetry_and_pressed_flowers_
There's no forgiveness for what I did!
For you and your crimes
And your horrors
And 'evil deeds,
There'll be always
A Word, a good opinion
To have and think about.
There's no forgiveness for what I did!

There can't be forgiveness for what I did.
You, on the other hand,
For you all due respect.
You and those horrors
You had to do,
You had to do.
Respect: how else to terrify
Your enemy
So cruel...
For you, all due respect.
- I don't know what I could have done in any past life, said the girl, to deserve this!

"God rest the good man's soul."
When someone can love you someone can Save you.
Next page