the dog owner neglected
his so called friend
no sustenance to the dog
did he kindly tend

over a period of time
the poor wretch ebbed away
he took his last panting breath
on that hot summer's day

twas criminal what the dog owner
did foist upon the dog
for his uncaring actions
he deserves a thumping good flog

his heartlessness
truly unforgivable
the dog seemingly
to his eye twas invisible

every day dogs die
in a state of distress
their owners perpetrating
undeniable cruelness

If you didn't know my story,but saw me in a book,
You'd read my name and wonder,then take a second look.
A shadow of my former beauty,I've been ruined by many years,
The things that have happened to me always bring on many tears.
I do not hide my sadness,for it is fresh and always there,
As I wait here so very lonely in my sunless Atlantic lair.
My poor,proud body is rotting away,there is nothing I can do,
Except hope maybe one day,equality will be given me too.
I recall a sadness filled day within my lonely dark,
When a plastic cup came floating down,and on my tomb left a mark.
That was one of many times I would give up and cry,
For human cruelness hurt me so,I got this rather than 'good-bye'.
I do not hardly recognize myself anymore,I say it not to be vain,
I say it with truth and exactness,to my heart welled up with pain.
Some people truly love me,for them I'm truly greatful,
Others regard me as a rusty ship with eyes that bespeak hateful.
I cannot help what happened to me,they just don't understand,
I once had a heart adventurous that would lead a career grand.
My hopeful life was ended in the year of 1912,
And my dreams,visions and pride-filled youth to the bottom delved.
I was told that youth and beauty would get me far in life,
And with these assets I proudly boasted,I knew nonesuch called 'strife'.
Throughout the tumble and crash of waves rode my lean body's length,
I reveled many times over in my satisfying,thrilling strength!
****
On the evening tide of the 14th,I saw the iceberg  true,
A handsome,glittering,ethreal prince,what was a lonely girl to do?
I rushed as fast as could be allowed to greet this glacier born one,
Eager to introduce myself and rid forlornness akin to a ton.
But when I came up closer,my heart he did stab,
With that glittering,icy spellbinding look,'twas my start of being sad.
He tore into my body,bringing unsurmountable pain,
What was the purpose of such cruelty,what could he possibly gain?
And on the night my life ended,I travelled my beloved sea no longer,
Death so young,in such a way,could life be any wronger?
I hoped so much I would not perish in a life that did just start,
Yet hopes were banished by the truths of a rapidly weakening heart.
I tried to wait as long as I could to save my passengers dear,
But the ending for so many of us was soon becoming near.
I didn't want to say farewell to the things I did love so,
And yet time was running short,and I wanted them to know:

Olympic,my lovely sister,I hope your life is a promise true,
Of many voyeurs across oceans wide,a charmer you are too.
Treasure the sun's bounty that warms the evening's chill,
And know throughout your entire life,my love is with you still.
Enjoy the satisfaction of your beauty and strength even when in dock you sit,
For a day may come anytime,and a single moment end it.
Show the Captain you are bold-bold,lovely and free,
But do not toss caution in the spray thrown off the sea.
I trust you not to be lonely in travels near and far,
For my ghost is always with you,just look up at a star.
When days come to you and a disconsolate thought you may think,
Remember the unconditioning love of a sister who'd "Never Sink".
Remember my love at morning,remember it at night,
Remember it these coming days I will no longer be in your sight.
I love you,Fair Olympic,in wordless,heartfelt ways,
Your memory I shall treasure in my saddened,sunless days.

I rest on a sandy sea bottom,amongst accoutrements of life,
From an unforgettable day when I learned the meaning of strife.
The earth has covered the stab the iceberg in my side did maim,
But despite that all,the hurt in my heart did stain.
I relive in over and over,wishing it were just a dream,
Yet awaken to the truths to know,my broken funnels have no more steam.
The way I landed in this grave,I look like I shall sail ahead,
But,that is all a fantasy,my once-strong body is dead.
It will not go anywhere,today or ever again,
I am helpless to the trash that falls upon me from heartless men.
The ship that sail above me hold people bright and gay,
Who do not know the sorrows that were on a 15th of April day.
They sail on to their destination,thinking nothing of me,
Who haunts the very waves they ride on my beloved Atlantic sea.
They dream of their days ahead,cheerful and free of plight,
Disregarding any notion of a nightmarish Hadean night.
They dance,they revel and throw trash over the side,
Where it floats down eventually onto the Ocean's Queen who has died.
They do not know of an iceberg with a sinister,laughing gaze,
And who pleasured in so knowing he ended my happy days.
They do not know of terror,of the ocean flooding ones' heart,
They do not know suffering for a ship breaking apart.
They do not know the agony of bading goodbye,
To the sunshine and a beloved sister who would never,ever lie.
They stand aboard a breezy bow,above the white waves foam,
Knowing soon,within a few days,they will be going home.
They seem to forget I belonged somewhere once too,
My home wasn't supposed to be an ocean floor,far from the sky's blue.
They do not know I've loved,they do not know I've cared,
They do not know the pain in my heart,that in scrapping,my sister wasn't spared.
They are the people who have this phrase float off their lips:
"Olympic and Titanic ,they are little more than ships!"
You humans claim you hold a bond to those you love so dear,
How different is it for me,I ask,with my sister built so near?
There is so much out there for those to remember me,
But my poor,sweet sister is forgotten,plunged into ocean history.
When you recall me,try to think of her too,
Bring her alive within your heart,I leave it up to you.
Years have passed,times have changed,though down here it's the same,
I am still the great Titanic,though my bow no longer says my name.
Some people who have discovered me have been respecting and kind,
I shall never give up my secrets,but their visits I don't mind.
Then,there are others,who ravage me to know,
They steal my finery,what is rightly mine;how can they hurt me so?
Although I do not mind some visits,I am now accustomed to the dark,
For the lights they shine upon me are so horribly bold and stark.
I am now part of this sea for one-hundred and one years strong,
All stemming from an April night when the most horrible went wrong.
The rust that drapes off me,some people say are like tears,
And,partially they are,my dearest friend,of the sorrows of many years.
The ocean floor is somber,the ocean floor is cold,
All the more unpleasant for a girl who's growing old.
My song it is of truth,to show that life is not a game,
But,treasure it every minute you can,all the very same.
It may be pleasant,it may be sorrow,
But,hold close the day you live in,think not heavily of a 'morrow.
I thought I'd have a tomorrow too,as I sit here in my grave,
I had a tomorrow,yes indeed,but not in a life-filled way.
I rest under these bitter waves,a melancholy heart is mine,
A shadow of my former beauty,a ghost of the White Star Line.
In the Aprils of today,on the dancing surf above,
My soul rises up to haunt the sea I love.
My soul is not marred by tears,fright and rust,
Whole and in perfection,before my death it's just.
At the latitude and longitude of that long ago day,
I have stopped many a vessel,so,remember me that may.
The scrapping of my sister,the sinking of me,
Life ended none too kind for both Queens of the Sea.
Remember us,gay vacationers,as you gaze up at a cloud,
For Titanic and Olympic,death 'twas not proud.....

I rest under these bitter waves,
A melancholy heart is mine,
We are remnants of our former beauty,
We are the ghosts of the
WHITE STAR LINE...

A dream once was had-- for two to be equal,
For this is the land of the free,
Free for you; free for me.

Often we hide our faces, as if we were the ones shamed.
Instead of standing up with another,
Repelling awful names.

Silence has a power, often more than sound.
Silence tunes your true voice,
Silence shakes the ground.

Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.

Young students go to school, all shades of different skin.
We all threw rocks and names,
Wanting equality was their sin.

Did it matter? Their race was who they were.
A few rose voices,
Others’ silences were fists furled.

What does it matter, of what color their skin?
Here comes another battle.
Here it comes again.

Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.

If one was gay, would he not be a being?
Should you let others mock?
Does silence stop the grieving?

No, the pain is still there, still loud.
The silence is louder.
Silence is all around.

The names, the hate, all can be repressed.
Silence is the fermata.
Silence has the stress.

Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.

What is the solution, to this lack of sound?
Simple.
Make it loud.

A word of hope, ringing upon new ears.
A word of sympathy,
Erasing all the fear.

A smile, a hug, a song, a dream,
All to be had,
All to be seen.

Shout against repression, against hate.
For we are all equal,
All the same final fate.

Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.

Stand together, as one. Make the stand.
Stop silence, create music,
Ring it through the land.

With your words create harmony, create rhyme.
Create thirds and fifths,
Stronger than the flow of time.

Why must we stand alone? Aren’t we all brothers?
Did our ancestors fight?
Protecting our dear mother?

Hand in hand we’ll rise, voices speak as one.
Cruelness and evil gone,
Silence on the run.

Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.

If we do not help each other, then who will assist?
Together we will rise,
Or fall together into the abyss.

Gay or straight, or be it black or white,
Whether you believe in god,
We’re all human, right?

We all feel, we all hear and see.
We can all make words,
We all breathe.

Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.

So why must we be made different, called by our opinions or race?
Why must we be judged,
Simply by our face?

No more, I shout. No more the hate.
No more discrimination.
This is our fate.

No more injustice, social and the silence.
No more acts of anger.
No more senseless violence.

Let brothers protect brothers, let friends be friends,
For we are only human.
The same mortal end.

Let sisters love their sisters, let strangers be strangers no more.
For we are only human.
Our heart is our core.

Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.

I will stand alone, if that is what it takes.
I will raise my voice,
Singing with quick haste.

I will be the difference, the smile to the weak.
I will help protect,
Helping shield the meek.

I will celebrate the differences, that make you and me.
I will turn the lock,
My voice will be the key.

Soon my friends will join, creating a choir of light,
Singing against the hate,
Harmonies strike the night.

Silence will not be my tool, silence is not my friend.
I will make my voice count.
I will make this hate end.

Silence is the foe, when words need to be said.
Silence is the killer.
Silence marks the dead.

I remember the frost that morning,
- painting the window in a satin-white.
How it burned my throat when I inhaled;
the distant scent of someone’s open-fire,
- curling through the atmosphere a thick fragrance of Maple.
The trees dressed in winter’s coat of freshly lain snow.
The sky was hanging low in the mountains as I looked ahead.
I even heard the soft landing of snowdrops
- From the surrounding branches.

My skin felt rough and tight
- as I walked further on,
My nose feeling of someone else’s.
I could feel the pangs of old age hit me
- like a time-bomb.
But it was no use returning,
I only had to march on. Crunch, crunch,
below my snow-boots,
When at last I realized I had reached a gravel road.

The dawn awoke behind the somber mists of clouds.
I could just catch a glimpse of sun-rays within a break.
Oh, how glorious
she bathed me in a pool of warmth
before dispersing at once,
alone again in my frozen world;
Though, I never faltered
and continued to walk down the snowy path.
Crunch, crunch, continued my boots,
my arms swinging right after the other,
Front-to-back, front-to-back.
I scaled the peak of the hill,
(the hill I’d spend all my days upon as a child)
covered in a thick layer of snow;
Its’ features all too familiar to hide.
It aged with me through a life of joy and pain
as though an old friend. And now I stood
- in the place no longer welcoming like it used to be.
My heart filled with a void that I could not process,
- could not or would not.
And the sad scene of my past
only plunged deeper into my consciousness
- pulling from its’ depth a Charles Dickens’s quote.
It is as follows:
“Happy, happy Christmas that can win us back to the delusions of our childhood days, recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth and transport the traveler back to his own fireside and quiet home.”
And deep within a melancholic-faze,
I departed from the distant view of my home.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The bag I carried seemed to grow with each step
and after what I only could have guessed was hours in,
I found myself stooped over a rock
- rummaging the contents of my pack.
I leaned back beneath a frozen Willow and munched on an apple.
Gazing out at the flourishing scene God had bestowed me; the trees mid-thought,
and I wondered what they must have been thinking
- when at that moment, winter’s angry hand
- broke the silent beauty of autumn and shook the trees bare;
their life strewn upon the ground
- and replaced by a thick layer of ice.
But what of the brushes or flowers?
Were they not too silenced, frozen in time?
A thousand questions buzzed through the hemispheres of my brain.

When the clouds would split
- the sunshine would pour in heaping rays of gold in my walk,
- just as she ripened through the morning hours.  
The snow had stopped falling and the stillness of the land comforted me;
Only my thoughts and the random flutter of birds broke the silence.
The snow surrendered beneath my feet,
crunch, crunch,
- gravel shooting high into the air.
My legs carried me aimlessly unbeknownst of the destination.
And overtime, the cold seemed to eat away through my suit, wrapping tightly around my joints;
the pain was more than my aged body would let me bear
- with my heart pumping bitterly through the frozen hemisphere.
The very thought of the beautiful landscape which beheld my gaze,
having ever play a part in bitter sorrow of those even most fortunate,
- boggled the very life of me. And Mother Nature seemed not quite finished,
as she whipped a brisk chill breeze through the bristly oaks.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Sun was my only comfort and I longed for its’ presence.
It danced around the complexities of my synapses with a cruelness,
- Its image just as vibrant in thought, as it would have been before me;
- As though, someone, had pulled the earth closer to the sun.
And the excruciating thought only made the ice colder,
- snow deeper, and wind harder.
I felt tiny needle-like ****** where my skin was bare
- and a cruel pressure as though a force was splitting my flesh in two.
Then, that blinding flash flooding my sight;
I couldn’t see my feet. So strong and powerful,
- I thought I had unknowingly fallen into the center of the earth.
Though my eyes adjusted before any real panic set in, becoming clear.
I looked up and marveled in the exposing warmth;
God smiled upon my weak, aging soul, one last time.
Colors in majestic tones and lifetimes apart
- overlapped the silk shimmer of afternoon sunlight.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Two o’clock and I trudged through the thick snow
- as adamant and determined as the moment I first set foot outside.
My moist hair protruded from beneath my hat,
- a result from the sporadic snowfall.
The trees echoed with the call of birds; their beautiful songs
- bellowed clear and shook the boughs in harmonious celebration.
I felt as though a surge of relentless joy lifted me from the heartache of the walk.
I, was a part of something bigger than I could ever imagine,
- the unity of blood and soul, the bond of humanity and their heritage.
I could see my Ancestors pillaging the forest floors for scraps of food
- walking this very path. Such dream was mine,
to walk hand-in-hand with my family again,
- to rejoice at the sight of snow rather than cringe.
To hear the floorboards creak from the mass of human pressure
- rather than the creeping age of the foundation;
- to hear the echo of my sweetheart down the hall.
There was nothing left to show for a lifetime of love
- but a broken heart and memories, all of which haunted me.
I became so distracted from my journey that I hadn’t realized
- how far off course I was. I gazed at the empty, bare trees,
- for the first time unfamiliar with their presence.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Hours passed and I could feel the wind grow heavy and frequent.
The sky showed no sign of improvement, but only seemed to increase in clouds.
I pulled my coat to me tighter and tucked my hands beneath my arms.
It was not long after, that I found a suitable place to rest.
I gathered all the sticks nearby and cleaned a shallow area of snow.
The wood burned slowly as the surrounding snow liquefied at light-speed.
Its’ immense heat covered my frozen-self in a blanket of warmth
- and I felt the bulk of the journey fall over me.
My eyelids became as heavy as cement blocks.
I decided to compromise this by giving in
- and falling deep into unconsciousness.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It was not too clear at first
- the hazy grounds in which I found myself.
There wasn’t snow but that of soft spring grass
- and I was no longer aching from frostbite.
I smelled an overwhelming ample of spring blossoms
- accompanying the gentle breezes. The sunlight sat upon my cheek,
- no cloud in sight. Birds swarmed the open sky
- rejoicing the beautiful weather. What was this place? Where was I?  
There were the plumped-fields encircling the full oak trees,
- the wonderful sun showering the land in a ravishing golden light.
“There you are! I’ve been waiting for you.”
The voice startled me in its’ familiarity.
I opened my mouth to speak but no words came.  
“I’ve missed you so much!” It continued.      
Still not a single syllable could I form.
I looked all around,
- but no source could be found as to the whereabouts of the voice.
I forced myself up and stood at a loss.
Searching every corner, every shaded area but returned with no results.
Crunch, crunch, sounded the pitter patter of feet;
I looked around frantically but just as the voice, I remained alone in the field.
Only the crunch, increased, in speed and numbers;
I closed my eyes tightly and covered my ears
- until it was only the pounding of my heart that broke the silence.
A harsh, cold wind began to blow violently against my face
- and my hands stung with the feeling of my skin being pulled from my fingernails.
I strained to open my eyes and then
- found nothing but the thick suffocation of darkness.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Charred-wood remained beneath the remnants of smoke;
Its base still grasping a hint of light within the pile.
My face felt exposed and raw to the chill,
- burning with the intensity of a bonfire.
My fingers beyond that, to the point of numbness;
I couldn’t even feel my lips. I had lost control of my nerves;
I felt a madness possess my senses
and I struggled to contain as much rationality as possible.
I reached into my coat pocket for my matchbox
and with one strike of the flint,
- a tiny brilliant flame danced in direction with the wind.
And the light as though a disease,
- spread rapidly to the remaining wood. My environment became clear
- and I gazed up noticing the presence of the moon.
What time was it?
A sudden grumble arose from within the darkness
and I, continuing to fall in and out of unconsciousness.
But it wasn’t until I nearly dozed off
- that I recognized a most foreign presence; I was no longer alone.
A fierce set of eyes had been watching me; inching closer and closer.
They stared with the intensity of a 1000 hungry eyes
- coming closer until at last I caught a glimpse more of my visitor.
Her fur displayed sheen like that of the ocean at dawn;
Her eyes radiated a beautiful emerald hue.
She refrained from baring her teeth, though I knew why she was there.
I leaned up and between my chattering-teeth I spoke:
“I know why you’re here,”
The words did not come without consequence
for my lips split wide open from the sudden ****.
“. . . But it's not your job . . . not today!”
She studied my indigent-state, as grasped my coat to me tighter.
She sat down where she stood gazing with a longing.
her full-coat folding over her joints as she sunk further into the snow
- resting her head upon her paws, slowly closing her eyes.
And soon I followed suit, closing mine, and drifting off. ©

The written word
Should help us heal
All it does is hurt
By stating what we feel

It's confusing, reading scribbles
Knowing the authors heart
Realizing it means nothing
Typing your soul apart

The ink splashed on paper
Not really meaning a thing
Just random rants
About absolutely nothing

Expressing your heart
Exposing your pain
To the cruelness of people
With nothing to gain

But hurting your soul
And bruising your mind
Someone who expresses truth
Is way too hard to find

In this blank world
Where feelings are condemned
Tears are weakness
It's just better to pretend

all i sense is alliance
and all i feel is friendship
all i love is likeness
because an alliance is a kinship
and all i hate is hostile
all that weighs me is war
and all i can't stand is cruelness
i dont know what it's for

The scaffolding of the heart falls apart
When our beloved kin quickly depart
A repair kit is sought for the lasting grief
Tears are never ending in their sad stain
The living burdened with years of pain
Wrenched from those caring arms in cruelness
The soul e'er feels the ache of bitterness
To have consolation soothing relief
Always a cavern of dark clouds prevail
A death causes us to constantly ail  
In search of solace we all go looking
A brighter glimmering light regained
The sorrows of loss well ingrained
Our dearest leaving so overwhelming

I look at you over my morning cup of tea,
Examining every wrinkle in your amiable face,
Each one marking a moment of happiness.
Compassion drips from your eyes, like your coffee onto the saucer.
Drip, drip, drip.
The corners of your worn mouth curl into a warm smile,
And a soft chuckle comes from within.
But the cruelness of time transforms it into a cough
So that by the time it reaches your withered lips it merely reminds me
Of your age.
Time has disfigured your laughter-
Now it only serves as an impatient ticking.
Tick, tick, tick
Towards the impending doom.

You are transfixed by the dancing words in front of you,
I see your eyes dart across the page,
Chasing each letter with a desperate yearning.
You, like I, recognise the beauty of words-
It was you who taught me to allow the words to be free.
I still remember how your gentle voice rippled over my bedsheets like tsunami tides of wisdom,
Transporting me to a million different worlds
All at once.

You continue to sip your coffee,
And I my tea,
Words uniting our disparity.

Oh sea, eternal sea.
sea of tempest gale .
what gloom of thee i now see?
sorrow of my lost dear hales .
what do i behold with thy gait .
tears and sinister hulk wherever i sail.
for uncountable dreads you nail .
sea tells me the memoirs of your past hails.
sea of great Normandy lost fortune .
sea of old Titanic sadness.
sinister hell for no one to tell the cruelness.
that i deem for long their lost tune .
i hear but their murmur in horrid abyss.
poor of my dream ,no more or a bliss.
sea of eternal time and awful gloom .
sea of Moses magic and Egyptian battalions hell room.
oh,what memoir do i behold of thee.
painful reminisce and arrogance  toss of thee.
sea of Fuller's glory wickedly cast out not  see.
with babe and apron washed ashore .
but where writ encamped into your deep bore .
sea;of you i behold boredom but no lore .
and Fuller i long make my dear lord .
sea of all histories :low and high and Saratoga .
sea of past glory memoir of where did Columbus go.
i hear all ,and Phoenicians past bloom .
but i fear cause your waves sweep like a broom .
oh, our town ,our farm all engulfed .
slayer is Catherine a daughter of sea .
our  green pasture , and our bed of flower ripped .
for my kindred kinsman at Haiti that i cant see.
you court me with fantasy but i behold with horror.
for i dont want my last reminisce of love .
to be linked with thee,thee coldest terror .
all parting is good in likewise all leave .
but tomb stone i will appraise at my depart eve.
oh ,never rested slaughter of of eternal  time.
at Jakarta i see you mark i red line .
your thirst can never be quenched .
in your horror all ,but is cheated .
you are the most sweet kiss .
but i behold with venomous kiss .