"invasions" poems
That's me in the picture,
A collage of brothers and sisters;
I'm held high in my Mammy's arms,
Days before leaving Ireland.
Six months later, in our new home,
On a couch in our front room,
We pose again.
(See the console in our romper room?
It's testament to our boom and boons)
There's thousands of miles between those shoots,
And four million loved ones left behind
In a life and land we won't have again.
(That's the way life was back then)
No Face Time, #MeTime,
Sometimes a landline,
But always a letter in a card at the right time.
Brothers and sisters are missing.
In neglected churchyards,
And yet my mother smiles,
All the while.
Sixty years on, we pose again,
Sharing four hundred years here,
With seven hundred left behind:
Years of Famine and Hedge Schools,
Foreign invasions and Imperial Rule.
We stand ***** shoulders touching,
Between them loved ones missing;
Gone before the shutter opened,
A partial story as pictures go.
We're Irish proud,
Some of Canada's best;
An Irish-Canadian
When laid to rest.
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 10:14 AM UTC
I live in a land of three stars and a sun
The pearl of the orient, surrounded with sands
A country for years have been independent
Back from the invasions, where history's ancient
With a government tainted with corruption and greed
The beauty has been stripped off leaving our country to bleed
Suffering from apathy, puberty and dread
The people's revolting for their cries never heard
Looking at the Brightside, it is the people that is ugly
Staining the pride of the country with deeds that are unpretty
Beyond that, the pearl still shines with all its glory
That someday will be known for its natural beauty
I am a man who live in a land of three stars and a sun
Red, white, blue and yellow designed the flag of my clan
I'll wave it with valor, the courage for the right I've done
With love and honor here I am born and die where I stand
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:22 AM UTC
the freckles on your face correspond with the many invasions of emotions contracting one another like the plans spinning around,
day by day and us
humans
not showing much respect
we sit back worrying
trying to cover up our freckles
our insecurities
while we should be trying to preserve,
yet were so clueless with the results
that we love clueless
we love the outcome
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 4:05 AM UTC
I joined this site last year in March
and have found many voices since
that kindly welcomed what I wrote
with ‘likes’ and comments
even messages
thank you, my friends
I was a short-time member of some other sites
and from my past experience I have to say
that hp is the liveliest of all I’ve visited
even if there at times are posts that sound mean-spirited
and the occasional invasions of silly trolls
make you aware that on the internet nothing is safe
from the shenanigans of some frustrated idiots
in sum
and in comparison with other sites
given its size and its diversity
hp is doing fairly well
to keep exchange of voices and ideas
benevolent advice constructive criticism
helpful encouragement of younger members
and sometimes simply kind remarks
alive and spread the urge of writing poetry
that helps us to articulate our loves and fears
to keep alive this spirit of creative art
is our formidable work in progress
in which we all should lovingly play our part
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 8:06 PM UTC
The danger has passed
with its shadow cast
and you feel relieved
if you're not deceived.
When it was around
there wasn't a sound
and all that happened
nearly time flattened.
'Twas on such a day
that it came your way
but did not expect
let alone suspect.
You'd never have thought
that way to be caught
but who knows when fate
brings death on their plate.
It's only when time
finds the hour to chime
and it strikes you down
with no one around.
So helpless you'll be
until you are free
from the direful hour
if life is not sour.
On such occasions
of life's invasions
which are distasteful
be not ungrateful.
Give thanks to the Lord
and study His Word.
Apply it with heart
as Grace will impart.
____________
Jan 31, 2022
Jan 31, 2022 at 4:44 AM UTC
Stop battering her mind by invasions
of your curious cultural perversions
Get out of her way I tell you for god sake.
She needs quietude
To come out of her servitude
to repair and restore her aptitude
In the balm and calm of solitude
Her dome is broken with throbs
torn yarns spasm derobes
With velocity escape to infinity
Due to your ferocious felinity
She needs peace to space walk
To gather the ruffled rob safe back
So leave her alone I tell you
As if she were in ICU
She needs silence to settle
Down to revive her mettle
with rarer precious metals
Cement her mental pieces
Mind can swoop down with trough
Ride on a rough wave's crest
Pat and pacify with suavity
bring back the halo from infinity
zero down the hero with unity,
from a state of KD
rejuvenate the PD
Back to an ambience of 3D
So Leave her alone I tell you
Let her bleed, perspire in despire
If mind willing, desire compelling
Let it prepare her self, to repair itself
the broken respiration sighs
With high waves of neighs
conspires to set in her scattred inspiration
To the errected pyre of desperation
Asunder to cinder and surrender.
Let the fire embrace her to scintillation
In a catalystic ambiance of ventilation
Mix and suffix with whirling flame
To phoenix her into a healing dame.
For god sake leave her alone I tell you..
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 2:45 PM UTC
You can rest now,
Sooner than you think.
For your legs are tired
Mind is mired
By past events.
It has not all gone your way
Nor has it gone too far astray
You may walk that corridor
Past haunted portraits
Hung skewed upon the wall.
Each one faded,
Canvas scratched
By the history of memories attached.
It took years to build these walls
From the remnant of a childhoods fall
The first and last line of defence
To halt invasions and consequence.
You can rest now,
Sooner than you thought
You fought the battle,
You lost the war.
Jun 5, 2023
Jun 5, 2023 at 10:41 AM UTC
I put the heads of those come to reason on the walls
raised clean of explanation
I occupy observation towers swept with frost
and the listening posts during hopeless invasions
Forget it I came here to fight and
you'll bleed into your grafitti
which converted my thieves hand
into cognac soaked
mandolin adagios
Mar 13, 2012
Mar 13, 2012 at 1:00 AM UTC
we walk the high hill
sing!
(sing or die)
.
this is no world
.....alien invasions....
one by one.
we
-----
we resist
we arise!
--------------
gentleness is strength
.
work for the one spirit
not for man
........
love is simple
simply love
it is simple
------------------
work for the one spirit
not man
.......
alien invaders
these "bosses"
disguised as "man"
Sep 7, 2011
Sep 7, 2011 at 5:31 PM UTC
You are still keeping heavy arms,
You did not stop explosive devastations,
The earth is clamings trials – not once,
Have troubled vital forces for whole nature,
United Nations orders been ignored,
Intrudes feeling free for invasions,
Increasing wars revising what agreed,
Incoming time inclining independence,
Indifference for all asleep,
Discourage poll possessions intentions,
Remaining backwards countrys in need,
Would left among nations in faceless,
Despite foggy announcements on stand,
Among the stars would shine the planet,
Don’t leave your children on the sand,
And face cold judgments for a wild,
Pretending for the future bright,
Its hard to watch hearts children crying,
Forgiveness doesn’t have a chance,
Missed way to all the human kind
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC
All hail the king of pharises
with pale pigment and gold
all for the controlling of a soul.
He stands on a stable to speak
not concerning a embellished race
destroying all with a colored face.
Tormenting the meek leaving them weak
disfuntional ways to teach
his disciples are emotionally scarred.
Selling themselves for lavish living
into clear repertoires
transformed into a dark star without color or void.
This is what the King turned his disciples
with the power of persuasion
developing future wars to impact vicious invasions.
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 7:35 PM UTC
Across the ocean's dome,
Controlled by piercing shouts without a doubt;
On an altar in the distance:
An open book with censored words!
Tear a page,
Observe the rage.
Not what any freedom fighter would.
In a rowboat in the open,
Draw the source of their devotion.
Pencil sketch the jagged beard,
And stretch the nose a thousand years.
What a time to strike some fear!
The terrorists will echo with madness,
The pen is your sword.
The innocent will run to the forests,
And the artists make war.
Across the desert homes,
Contained by giant seas to some degree;
In a planetary orbit:
A crying team with crooked teeth!
See the page,
The winds enrage.
Not what any freedom lover should.
Bullets charge at the comedian's door,
Burning down all the carpenter's lore.
Sculptors mourne over severed stones,
The innocent turn, yearn, learn...
The invasions form, warn, and burn.
As the terrorists echo with madness,
Hold the pen as your sword.
As the innocent run to the forests,
Let the artists make war.
Throw the drawings ashore!
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 10:42 PM UTC
What is this hold that permeates my very existence?
Spreading warmness deep within. A sweet sensation of pure lust.
A need to reach out and caress unbridled energy.
Stolen moments of complete ecstasy and unreserved fantasy.
Reach for me so that I may engulf my very being in your essence.
Experience oneness that few achieve.
Embrace me; Sate this hunger and desire that holds me prisoner.
Hold me so that I may become your soul.
Exploitations of a forbidden love. A disgustingly delicious emotion of desire.
Abandon the shackles that bind, Explore the wicked wanton needs of inner self.
Oh sweet innocence, release thy self, still thy beating heart.
Stolen tender moments, a slight caress, quiet serenity.
Awakened memories, invasions of happiness, a smile from the land of dreams.
Hide the tremors of such bliss, still thy breath.
A secret safe within the heart, shudder at thoughts of climactic emotion.
A dreary future cast aside, overwhelmed by an emotional tide.
Of a moment in time.
Ache no more my beating heart, pure is the love so fleetingly felt.
A oneness thou hast achieved, delivered by such beauty.
Born of wretchedness and broken dreams.
Keep safe within your walls, secret of desires, shared moments of pleasure.
Of such moments in time.
Written By Edward green
Dec, 2006
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 1:28 AM UTC
Last night she came into my bed
in the dead hours before the light snook into my eyes and through the shadows lined up like labourers on the walls in my head.
She woke me into another dream I'd had some years before and as I stuttered to form the words to speak to her,
she shared with me,
a picture,some melody I remembered vaguely
which though nice was rather sad.
Quite glad that being well prepared for these invasions of the night, I had snared a little spot,not too cold,not too hot and we could tot up what we got up too, as morning grew into the day it would become.
It's like I won some inter-universal game of chance,first prize,last chance of romance and I have glanced quickly through the rules,
as fool as I am,not sure how to be a man and anyway I never knew what the plan would be
or if entering this game of chance was free or would there be a fee to pay.
She took my mind away from thoughts like this and in that first kiss when my body being in overdrive felt like I'd arrive before I'd even left
she put me back to idle speed
and now in idling how I need her more to stamp the accelerator to the floor and race me on to that place where all doubts have gone and we will get there
in time to share cakes and teas and
indulge ourself in pleasantries.
Tonight I need her to come again
to come with me upon the dead hour train that speeds through lifetimes,through those windowed pains that although washed and cleaned have dreamed of sordid sights in more sordid nights and now
and now
the train of thought has stopped
this malady crops up from time to time
and I say that 'my memory's fine'
but then I would.
I want my caller in the night to think that I'm so good and not affected by that infection,age
she might
not notice line and wrinkles that twinkle in the star or moonlight
or she might.
I make light of this and wait for more,just one kiss more
one kiss I guess is more than less
one kiss
and then I sleep.
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 7:27 AM UTC
It is her warmth in a cup of tea
her whispers that rattle the window screen
her eyes that open as mine close.
Her shoulder that holds my head
when I fall asleep
on a pillow.
She colors everything.
She brings exquisite language to my lips
she sighs,
before she speaks a different language that
I understand.
(the a’s sound like raindrops)
that leave trails along
the windshield.
When once I belonged to
a life as delicate as lies and grapefruit knives
I read her
brief and clear
on her own face.
accidentally bare,
precious.
Life saved in the turn of a head,
at the sight of a name, a familiar name, more than
a name. in
a hand on my knee
in little things.
I took to the street to the city and the bridge to pass as a cliche
I thought of everything about her wrong
remembered that I forgot to say goodnight
before I turned around.
We talk in the way words fall
off and away,
as the melody subsumes the lyric’s soul
the sweetest notes of digression
waste the abundance.
Reduced to the center and I am less
all that I need and
nothing more
hanging from my shoulders;
skin that is white
in evening light
when she touches me
she makes me, I look at
the world, is small
sitting in the palm of my hand.
and I can see clearly from one end to the other
this is why I love you.
I am the brick and she is the window
when I kiss her cheek.
In the words good morning
I press my lips to the shape
of her eyes and feel her hovering shadow
spreading cool over my skin.
When I say no
I reach my warmest corners
round her body
over her shoulders
and pull her into the late night
held against my bones,
I have no intention of relinquishing.
She is angles and degrees
walls and windows
the words written in book folds
histories and the aspirations of ages
tiny brash movements and sight,
all.
To armies and invasions, I lay down infinite surrender
in between our silence.
For,
a thousand words
and I could never tell her
what I've needed to say by
arms and legs pressed with heat wrapped
round her waist.
Theres no explaining the way a heart aches.
What I’d tell say is (quiet [skin & heart{beat}] friction)
somewhere between this line,
and the next.
Let's talk about something else
Or our heads will float away
----------------------------------
love is the way my body leans
Can you see the way my body leans towards the east?
your words weigh light, their trails are long
through me, I say
love is that
in the morning, softly
I can feel her
still
against each point of my body
And my aching arms
whisper three words
and,
back again
to the beginning.
May 19, 2011
May 19, 2011 at 5:12 PM UTC
There hasn't been a night since I met you
That you haven't starred in my dreams.
Sometimes protector
Sometimes lover
Sometimes victim
Sometimes villain
But always you.
I guess I can't get enough of you when waking
So my subconscious picks up the slack.
You have invaded every inch of my being
But sometimes invasions are positive.
Aug 2, 2010
Aug 2, 2010 at 9:11 AM UTC
Élégie au Mont « La Sposata»
Comme un cheval fougueux
Tu chevauches les pierres
De ta montagne de granit.
Tu domines le «Liamone».
Et portes jusqu’à l’horizon
Cette grandeur altière
Qui est ton sceau de chevalier.
La mariée ingrate
Ayant laissé sa mère, sans un regard
Fut transformée ici
En monture de pierre.
Mais par sa révolte, toujours indomptée
Elle continue d’harnacher, la nuit,
des chimères de feu et son rêve de fuite.
Oh, montagnes sacrées
Témoins de tant d’effrois
Et de tant d’invasions,
D’où les conques soufflaient
Leurs cris stridents de guerre
Pour porter **** l’alarme
Quand l’aigle voyait les chèvres dévaler
Oh, montagnes sacrées
Qui virent tant d’étés
Enflammer l’horizon
Et calciner les pins
Ou l’eau glacée des sources
N’apaise pas les soifs de pureté
Et ou les merles et les geais
Tiennent commun concert
Paul Arrighi , écrit en Corse au mois d'août
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 3:23 PM UTC
When I was very young
my consolation was, The Love.
The love that concealed me.
Walking home alone,
I sang my chant inside my head,
while the other children ****** me.
And Jesus was my brother,
crooning to me in my heart,
when my father's fingers wounded me.
And yet, The Love, shot through the pain,
as I ran to the trees for comfort;
singing my lonely child's keening.
I spent time, long and long
in my wooden leafy refuge.
I saw normal children play and laugh,
but only from a distance.
Sundays, my family went to church.
My sister and I, so pretty with hair so golden,
wore dresses of childish purity.
We sang in harmony with our skin still scorched
by our father's invasions.
There was hell at home, at church, at school,
with nowhere to run but into the arms of, The Love -
that only lived inside my head.
I don't know how, but I knew,
in the arms of the trees,
that there was love springing from the earth,
blowing through the air; caressed by the wings
of the birds.
My only solace were these daily gifts.
So very beautiful.
....and I was beautiful, with this Love
bursting in my heart.
Later, as I outgrew my home, my school, and my church,
I searched for love among those around me.
Many times, I could almost believe
my secret lived in others.
But what they really wanted was to capture my secret.
To hold it to themselves, and they wounded me.
-- and gasping, I crawled out of their arms.
They left my spirit near to death.
Still inside me was, The Love-
cradled inside me, calling me to life.
I don't look for love within the world anymore.
I offer it daily to others and it grows.
I am restored in the oldest church.
In the flowers, and the birds,
and the fresh spring wind.
and if there are more years to be,
I will stay free. - I will stay me,
and worship the only love there is.
Love, .. the one pure light,
that everyday holds back the dark.
God IS Love.
May 21, 2011
May 21, 2011 at 2:29 AM UTC
after that it started to rain.
So I left my window open at night
to wait
every night: because
how well I knew you when you mumured
under the veil fog
and slid into my bed, after
I would fall asleep
when I closed my eyes and the cold dark came through
to fill my room
I asked you to come back.
in my little voice I saved up words
for you,
and waited
the drops were very quiet invasions into my head
but they screamed
so loud, that,
*they weren't you
they weren't you*
laughing, of course you hadn't
left me alone
as you promised, you never would.
they were screams
the sick made me I was sick and pale
moments
to rise too fast, and
fall -
that was when I lost the grids laid out in my head
and was inbetween and
I knew where you were, and I knew where I
wasn't
- love
I haven't heard from you in weeks now
and your birthday is past
I just want to say happy birthday
this suspension is stretching out my fingers
I can't cry tears
anymore, so
blood has begun to run down my face.
the stars at night are burning you bright
sentences
into my face
I can't
get them
away
from my
face
I miss you
are stupid words
to say in the dark
May 4, 2011
May 4, 2011 at 7:47 PM UTC
The beginning was unconsidered people
Their night time mutterings familiar
Friendly voices during the hours of dark
Addicts of the slow uncluttered time
But some choices will haunt forever
White shards of sputnics flying
Starry explosions within the eye
Show a gleeful sense of malice
As huge storms gather in the red sky
Swift confident and totally predictable
Images flashing like neon steel bells
Gigantic whistles singing in white heat
Behind these invasions of her space
That keep her company when not asleep
He attempts to brush away likes specks
Ripples of dust in the texture of his life
But to her it is a slow painful process
An identity that has been stolen and
Her wide open eyes can only stare
Hearing acute for the sirens soft wail
Mar 17, 2016
Mar 17, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC
What if you don't want to be saved
You want to live outside the box
And you would rather the bubble be popped
Not have to claim ignorance
Living in the naïve land
Of innocence
Its tempting
And sometimes its a better option
But reality should not be an illusion
Racism and freedom
Class divided systems
To chase the dream
Or see reason
Where are the black barbie's
And who's your boss at managerial
Minority controlling normality
Scapegoats and state treason
Sacrificial lambs of the season
Corporate crimes with no repercussions
Why is black history
A month set aside
Equality or special treatment
Raising awareness or reinforcing difference?
Conform to standards
Tick box rules and regulations
Invasions of privacy
For your health and safety
Treated like guilty suspects
Looking to incriminate
Social norms and subjective realities
Powers of authority
Puppets of the same ideologies
Filtered through hierachies
And you become a product of the system
A convenient but replaceable minion
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 6:58 AM UTC
Here the sun
Then a continent forms in the ripples of hot bed sheet. The sun undresses again while a tide ripples. hot bed sheet rolls back thinly. .
The sun undresses again a tide. lake, ripples andundressed river of her matress . A the continent lakes It undressed again into beige, the hot lake on the bed sheet as they both exhaled the last of sun. Sure enough, the hour that marked when lamps blunk inside one-by-one began. Their bulbs let out invasions of artificial light.
Everything laminated in.
Into the retinas;
the hair,
skin,
the curtains--
the moths;
in the ***** blonde synthetic light
waited patiently for the dusk to swash.
the black rivers of night;
she lay there,
on the bed,
with charcoal
and a sketchbook.
He was on his way to her.
Midnight had come. Midnight was a breath of tired darkness. Midnight was inhaled by the moon. Midnight filled the lungs of the day. Midnight had come.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 3:22 AM UTC
ten strange hands embodied by time
sands of dearth scattered like rhymes
how we fit so snugly yet exist individually
reality mouth the vitality of stupidity
and as the frothy shores
white titanium stones in course
a blood hound testing salt ridden breeze
as our existence wanders in vulnerability
a lovely delight
a sightly recite
systematically conquering our feelings
taught to stifle as causality
sea shells coarse
intricate invasions of aristocracy
bureaucracy everlasting integrity
cluster **** to drown in such blinded strife
our fabric is breathe truly
a paradox in hindsight
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
I watch you sit across
So in love with me
You won't say a word
Let alone look at me
Then hurricane Katrina
Seems to come back
Spinning in my head
Grey matter takes a whack
You with me
Strange things come true
The universe turns into a canvas
Impossibilities are few
We could build a starship
To fight alien invasions
Go back and forth in time
Exploring parallel dimensions
What if we were captives
In an Intergalactic zoo
Invent ways to make love
Aliens won't have a clue!
Experience every fantasy
Only you and I can vouch
Exploring enhanced imagination
Sitting across the couch.
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 7:50 AM UTC