"nevertheless" poems - Hello Poetry

"nevertheless" poems

She must have been kicked unseen or brushed by a car. Too young to know much, she was beginning to learn To use the newspapers spread on the kitchen floor And to win, wetting there, the words, "Good dog! Good dog!" We thought her shy malaise was a shot reaction. The autopsy disclosed a rupture in her liver. As we teased her with play, blood was filling her skin And her heart was learning to lie down forever. Monday morning, as the children were noisily fed And sent to school, she crawled beneath the youngest's bed. We found her twisted and limp but still alive. In the car to the vet's, on my lap, she tried To bite my hand and died. I stroked her warm fur And my wife called in a voice imperious with tears. Though surrounded by love that would have upheld her, Nevertheless she sank and, stiffening, disappeared. Back home, we found that in the night her frame, Drawing near to dissolution, had endured the shame Of diarrhoea and had dragged across the floor To a newspaper carelessly left there. Good dog.

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146.4k

She must have been kicked unseen or brushed by a car. Too young to know much, she was beginning to learn To use the newspapers spread on the kitchen floor And to win, wetting there, the words, "Good dog! Good dog!" We thought her shy malaise was a shot reaction. The autopsy disclosed a rupture in her liver. As we teased her with play, blood was filling her skin And her heart was learning to lie down forever. Monday morning, as the children were noisily fed And sent to school, she crawled beneath the youngest's bed. We found her twisted and limp but still alive. In the car to the vet's, on my lap, she tried To bite my hand and died. I stroked her warm fur And my wife called in a voice imperious with tears. Though surrounded by love that would have upheld her, Nevertheless she sank and, stiffening, disappeared. Back home, we found that in the night her frame, Drawing near to dissolution, had endured the shame Of diarrhoea and had dragged across the floor To a newspaper carelessly left there. Good dog.

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my mind is a big hunk of irrevocable nothing which touch and taste and smell and hearing and sight keep hitting and chipping with sharp fatal tools in an agony of sensual chisels i perform squirms of chrome and execute strides of cobalt nevertheless i feel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am becoming something a little different, in fact myself Hereupon helpless i utter lilac shrieks and scarlet bellowings.

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68.5k

my mind is a big hunk of irrevocable nothing which touch and taste and smell and hearing and sight keep hitting and chipping with sharp fatal tools in an agony of sensual chisels i perform squirms of chrome and execute strides of cobalt nevertheless i feel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am becoming something a little different, in fact myself Hereupon helpless i utter lilac shrieks and scarlet bellowings.

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***** What are those? creation of some great architect. they vary in size, shape and dimension also in weight, width and assimilation... one touch takes you million stars away heavenly bliss, on the earth nevertheless, squeeze them to the delight, hold them to their perfect shapes, Hands in joy and trickling liquid SomePlaceElse.. moaning body, screaming someone's name, dude! you are the luckiest, keep up the fame..

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May 15, 2012

May 15, 2012 at 6:42 PM UTC

***** What are those? creation of some great architect. they vary in size, shape and dimension also in weight, width and assimilation... one touch takes you million stars away heavenly bliss, on the earth nevertheless, squeeze them to the delight, hold them to their perfect shapes, Hands in joy and trickling liquid SomePlaceElse.. moaning body, screaming someone's name, dude! you are the luckiest, keep up the fame..

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I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it---- A sort of walking miracle, my skin Bright as a **** lampshade, My right foot A paperweight, My face a featureless, fine Jew linen. Peel off the napkin 0 my enemy. Do I terrify?---- The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? The sour breath Will vanish in a day. Soon, soon the flesh The grave cave ate will be At home on me And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die. This is Number Three. What a trash To annihilate each decade. What a million filaments. The peanut-crunching crowd Shoves in to see Them unwrap me hand and foot The big strip tease. Gentlemen, ladies These are my hands My knees. I may be skin and bone, Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman. The first time it happened I was ten. It was an accident. The second time I meant To last it out and not come back at all. I rocked shut As a seashell. They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls. Dying Is an art, like everything else, I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call. It's easy enough to do it in a cell. It's easy enough to do it and stay put. It's the theatrical Comeback in broad day To the same place, the same face, the same brute Amused shout: 'A miracle!' That knocks me out. There is a charge For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge For the hearing of my heart---- It really goes. And there is a charge, a very large charge For a word or a touch Or a bit of blood Or a piece of my hair or my clothes. So, so, Herr Doktor. So, Herr Enemy. I am your opus, I am your valuable, The pure gold baby That melts to a shriek. I turn and burn. Do not think I underestimate your great concern. Ash, ash --- You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there---- A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.

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26k

I have done it again. One year in every ten I manage it---- A sort of walking miracle, my skin Bright as a **** lampshade, My right foot A paperweight, My face a featureless, fine Jew linen. Peel off the napkin 0 my enemy. Do I terrify?---- The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth? The sour breath Will vanish in a day. Soon, soon the flesh The grave cave ate will be At home on me And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die. This is Number Three. What a trash To annihilate each decade. What a million filaments. The peanut-crunching crowd Shoves in to see Them unwrap me hand and foot The big strip tease. Gentlemen, ladies These are my hands My knees. I may be skin and bone, Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman. The first time it happened I was ten. It was an accident. The second time I meant To last it out and not come back at all. I rocked shut As a seashell. They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls. Dying Is an art, like everything else, I do it exceptionally well. I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call. It's easy enough to do it in a cell. It's easy enough to do it and stay put. It's the theatrical Comeback in broad day To the same place, the same face, the same brute Amused shout: 'A miracle!' That knocks me out. There is a charge For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge For the hearing of my heart---- It really goes. And there is a charge, a very large charge For a word or a touch Or a bit of blood Or a piece of my hair or my clothes. So, so, Herr Doktor. So, Herr Enemy. I am your opus, I am your valuable, The pure gold baby That melts to a shriek. I turn and burn. Do not think I underestimate your great concern. Ash, ash --- You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there---- A cake of soap, A wedding ring, A gold filling. Herr God, Herr Lucifer Beware Beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair And I eat men like air.

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•helping the kids with homework• no one told you, was part of the job description paycheck earner a-ok, gruff but tender lover, knowing her special places, building a tree swing, a tree house safe and satisfactory, one the neighbors envy taking them to the hospital for broken arms and chemotherapy, part two of the non-routine but a very possible foreseeable, going to school to give that principal a look that will make him think twice before suspending one of his for defending himself you remember your daddy doing the same for you, forgetting to repeat the tar and hiding that came later the tucking in, the pretense ouch when your end of day scratchy beard ruffling the skin of babies, carrying tissues in a toolbox, never heard of, nevertheless done, tho not a memory defining the future inclusive, definitely a learning ability, a likeability doing homework, nuh uh, no way jose, don’t dare let them know how you never got a gold star, always sat in the back row, outta sight, all day dreaming, chemistry rhymes with mystery, and poetry is rhymes needing a big vocabulary which means lots of words for a man who don’t talk much ain’t exactly his strong suit sure, heard of Shakespeare but never met him, know where the on/off computer button hides, the rest is up to them; got no email address, but taught them sir and ma’am, how to address humans with respect, i’ll promise them anything but not doing any homework, unless it the kind that that makes “a home work”

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Jul 22, 2018

Jul 22, 2018 at 9:20 AM UTC

helping the kids with homework

•helping the kids with homework• no one told you, was part of the job description paycheck earner a-ok, gruff but tender lover, knowing her special places, building a tree swing, a tree house safe and satisfactory, one the neighbors envy taking them to the hospital for broken arms and chemotherapy, part two of the non-routine but a very possible foreseeable, going to school to give that principal a look that will make him think twice before suspending one of his for defending himself you remember your daddy doing the same for you, forgetting to repeat the tar and hiding that came later the tucking in, the pretense ouch when your end of day scratchy beard ruffling the skin of babies, carrying tissues in a toolbox, never heard of, nevertheless done, tho not a memory defining the future inclusive, definitely a learning ability, a likeability doing homework, nuh uh, no way jose, don’t dare let them know how you never got a gold star, always sat in the back row, outta sight, all day dreaming, chemistry rhymes with mystery, and poetry is rhymes needing a big vocabulary which means lots of words for a man who don’t talk much ain’t exactly his strong suit sure, heard of Shakespeare but never met him, know where the on/off computer button hides, the rest is up to them; got no email address, but taught them sir and ma’am, how to address humans with respect, i’ll promise them anything but not doing any homework, unless it the kind that that makes “a home work”

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Off that landspit of stony mouth-plugs, Eyes rolled by white sticks, Ears cupping the sea's incoherences, You house your unnerving head -- God-ball, Lens of mercies, Your stooges Plying their wild cells in my keel's shadow, Pushing by like hearts, Red stigmata at the very center, Riding the rip tide to the nearest point of departure, Dragging their Jesus hair. Did I escape, I wonder? My mind winds to you Old barnacled umbilicus, Atlantic cable, Keeping itself, it seems, in a state of miraculous repair. In any case, you are always there, Tremulous breath at the end of my line, Curve of water upleaping To my water rod, dazzling and grateful, Touching and ******* I didn't call you. I didn't call you at all. Nevertheless, nevertheless You steamed to me over the sea, Fat and red, a placenta Paralyzing the kicking lovers. Cobra light Squeezing the breath from the blood bells Of the fuchsia. I could draw no breath, Dead and moneyless, Overexposed, like an X-ray. Who do you think you are? A Communion wafer? Blubbery Mary? I shall take no bite of your body, Bottle in which I live, Ghastly Vatican. I am sick to death of hot salt. Green as eunuchs, your wishes Hiss at my sins. Off, off, eely tentacle! There is nothing between us.

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19.4k

Off that landspit of stony mouth-plugs, Eyes rolled by white sticks, Ears cupping the sea's incoherences, You house your unnerving head -- God-ball, Lens of mercies, Your stooges Plying their wild cells in my keel's shadow, Pushing by like hearts, Red stigmata at the very center, Riding the rip tide to the nearest point of departure, Dragging their Jesus hair. Did I escape, I wonder? My mind winds to you Old barnacled umbilicus, Atlantic cable, Keeping itself, it seems, in a state of miraculous repair. In any case, you are always there, Tremulous breath at the end of my line, Curve of water upleaping To my water rod, dazzling and grateful, Touching and ******* I didn't call you. I didn't call you at all. Nevertheless, nevertheless You steamed to me over the sea, Fat and red, a placenta Paralyzing the kicking lovers. Cobra light Squeezing the breath from the blood bells Of the fuchsia. I could draw no breath, Dead and moneyless, Overexposed, like an X-ray. Who do you think you are? A Communion wafer? Blubbery Mary? I shall take no bite of your body, Bottle in which I live, Ghastly Vatican. I am sick to death of hot salt. Green as eunuchs, your wishes Hiss at my sins. Off, off, eely tentacle! There is nothing between us.

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There are cemeteries that are lonely, graves full of bones that do not make a sound, the heart moving through a tunnel, in it darkness, darkness, darkness, like a shipwreck we die going into ourselves, as though we were drowning inside our hearts, as though we lived falling out of the skin into the soul. And there are corpses, feet made of cold and sticky clay, death is inside the bones, like a barking where there are no dogs, coming out from bells somewhere, from graves somewhere, growing in the damp air like tears of rain. Sometimes I see alone coffins under sail, embarking with the pale dead, with women that have dead hair, with bakers who are as white as angels, and pensive young girls married to notary publics, caskets sailing up the vertical river of the dead, the river of dark purple, moving upstream with sails filled out by the sound of death, filled by the sound of death which is silence. Death arrives among all that sound like a shoe with no foot in it, like a suit with no man in it, comes and knocks, using a ring with no stone in it, with no finger in it, comes and shouts with no mouth, with no tongue, with no throat. Nevertheless its steps can be heard and its clothing makes a hushed sound, like a tree. I'm not sure, I understand only a little, I can hardly see, but it seems to me that its singing has the color of damp violets, of violets that are at home in the earth, because the face of death is green, and the look death gives is green, with the penetrating dampness of a violet leaf and the somber color of embittered winter. But death also goes through the world dressed as a broom, lapping the floor, looking for dead bodies, death is inside the broom, the broom is the tongue of death looking for corpses, it is the needle of death looking for thread. Death is inside the folding cots: it spends its life sleeping on the slow mattresses, in the black blankets, and suddenly breathes out: it blows out a mournful sound that swells the sheets, and the beds go sailing toward a port where death is waiting, dressed like an admiral.

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18.5k

Nothing But Death

There are cemeteries that are lonely, graves full of bones that do not make a sound, the heart moving through a tunnel, in it darkness, darkness, darkness, like a shipwreck we die going into ourselves, as though we were drowning inside our hearts, as though we lived falling out of the skin into the soul. And there are corpses, feet made of cold and sticky clay, death is inside the bones, like a barking where there are no dogs, coming out from bells somewhere, from graves somewhere, growing in the damp air like tears of rain. Sometimes I see alone coffins under sail, embarking with the pale dead, with women that have dead hair, with bakers who are as white as angels, and pensive young girls married to notary publics, caskets sailing up the vertical river of the dead, the river of dark purple, moving upstream with sails filled out by the sound of death, filled by the sound of death which is silence. Death arrives among all that sound like a shoe with no foot in it, like a suit with no man in it, comes and knocks, using a ring with no stone in it, with no finger in it, comes and shouts with no mouth, with no tongue, with no throat. Nevertheless its steps can be heard and its clothing makes a hushed sound, like a tree. I'm not sure, I understand only a little, I can hardly see, but it seems to me that its singing has the color of damp violets, of violets that are at home in the earth, because the face of death is green, and the look death gives is green, with the penetrating dampness of a violet leaf and the somber color of embittered winter. But death also goes through the world dressed as a broom, lapping the floor, looking for dead bodies, death is inside the broom, the broom is the tongue of death looking for corpses, it is the needle of death looking for thread. Death is inside the folding cots: it spends its life sleeping on the slow mattresses, in the black blankets, and suddenly breathes out: it blows out a mournful sound that swells the sheets, and the beds go sailing toward a port where death is waiting, dressed like an admiral.

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There she sat upon the wall. Longing for springtime to come, she wished to blossom into a beautiful bud, Although, beautiful was not expected to come about. Nevertheless, she was to bloom, into a wallflower- a flourish that was shunned by the most prized beings- she desired to cut the vines from which she sprouted, to be erased from the lineage of her loved ones. She yearned to fall among the soil and the pasture, to be trampled on by the glorious. Because at least there, lying in the fallow, she would’ve been touched by the legendary.

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Aug 18, 2015

Aug 18, 2015 at 7:10 PM UTC

NoxiousNeerDoWells

There she sat upon the wall. Longing for springtime to come, she wished to blossom into a beautiful bud, Although, beautiful was not expected to come about. Nevertheless, she was to bloom, into a wallflower- a flourish that was shunned by the most prized beings- she desired to cut the vines from which she sprouted, to be erased from the lineage of her loved ones. She yearned to fall among the soil and the pasture, to be trampled on by the glorious. Because at least there, lying in the fallow, she would’ve been touched by the legendary.

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Remember that old uphill trail We used to meander along With matching footsteps Under the sunlit canopy of leaves Carving words for each other On the bark of aged trees Who may have known what would become of us But nevertheless smiled acted as a blank canvas instead And watched the moments Filled with playful laughter Peachy smiles Lingering gaze Warm caress Unfold lazily between us The winds of time May have blown us miles apart Our footprints may have long eroded That sunlit canopy may have withered And we may walk that trail Only in our dreams But those words are yet to fade they were the voice of our soul Etched into the lap of nature And as I run my fingers along its rugged edges I reminisce about you And hope that wherever you are You are thinking about me too

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Apr 6, 2018

Apr 6, 2018 at 5:40 AM UTC

Remember that old uphill trail We used to meander along With matching footsteps Under the sunlit canopy of leaves Carving words for each other On the bark of aged trees Who may have known what would become of us But nevertheless smiled acted as a blank canvas instead And watched the moments Filled with playful laughter Peachy smiles Lingering gaze Warm caress Unfold lazily between us The winds of time May have blown us miles apart Our footprints may have long eroded That sunlit canopy may have withered And we may walk that trail Only in our dreams But those words are yet to fade they were the voice of our soul Etched into the lap of nature And as I run my fingers along its rugged edges I reminisce about you And hope that wherever you are You are thinking about me too

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I wanted someone that wouldn't be afraid of me. I spent twenty-one years doubting that person could ever exist. For humans are far too shallow and our complications are way too deep but I honestly believe we should not have to be alone. I believe in independence. I believe in self-reliance and I believe in self-respect. But I also believe that humans can connect on a far deeper level than just what we see. I believe there is a time and place for everything and that includes the moments we fall in love. You see, there will be days that you fill empty and lonely but you have to be there for yourself. No one is going to give you a handout unless you show them you are going to make it count. No one is going to rely on someone that cannot rely on them self. Co dependence can be beautiful but nevertheless- it is filled with even more grief. You cannot fix somebody else when you are still practicing the craft of self-love. Allow your lows to be reminders that you can lose and smile knowing that you can bounce back, too. There is nothing graceful in struggling but there is something glorious in the overcoming and believe me- you will find a way to live through it all. And then some day somebody, somewhere is going to admire the way you refuse to fall. And you will wonder how you ever let the world make you feel so small. -Andrew Durst.

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Nov 6, 2017

Nov 6, 2017 at 10:32 PM UTC

Coexist (ramblings)

I wanted someone that wouldn't be afraid of me. I spent twenty-one years doubting that person could ever exist. For humans are far too shallow and our complications are way too deep but I honestly believe we should not have to be alone. I believe in independence. I believe in self-reliance and I believe in self-respect. But I also believe that humans can connect on a far deeper level than just what we see. I believe there is a time and place for everything and that includes the moments we fall in love. You see, there will be days that you fill empty and lonely but you have to be there for yourself. No one is going to give you a handout unless you show them you are going to make it count. No one is going to rely on someone that cannot rely on them self. Co dependence can be beautiful but nevertheless- it is filled with even more grief. You cannot fix somebody else when you are still practicing the craft of self-love. Allow your lows to be reminders that you can lose and smile knowing that you can bounce back, too. There is nothing graceful in struggling but there is something glorious in the overcoming and believe me- you will find a way to live through it all. And then some day somebody, somewhere is going to admire the way you refuse to fall. And you will wonder how you ever let the world make you feel so small. -Andrew Durst.

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stripped naked in the figurative sense, I see a girl that is far overdue for a dose of joy. so much emptiness in her eyes, blood flow has become invisible. beauty. oh so much beauty in the way she cares absolutely too much for those that are unaware of her favorite color nevertheless asks how she feels every blue moon. perfectionist could quite possibly be her middle name by the way her heart beats in sync with the spontaneous moods that show their appearance every two days or so. anxiety equals a rapid beat. "if you feel worried then you must act on it" seems to be her philosophy because when she's sad and shaky the heart must go slow. for, she. is. slow. when the depression hits and vulnerability only shows its face behind closed doors im sure she would say that she feels as though she's suffocating. suffocating in the figurative sense, where everyone is there watching her but no one can differentiate heavy breathing in basketball practice from a ******** asthma attack. idiots. so numb. she's so numb in the figurative sense. you ask her how she is and each time it's an automated "good" as if practiced hundreds of times before a theatre performance. an actress. she's an actress in the literal sense. planting a smile from ear to ear even when it's an obvious gloomy day for everyone else. she puts on a show of happiness that could very much earn her an oscar, if only she were literally in the entertainment business. I can see her falling in the way her back hunches just 10 degrees lower than it had a year ago. I would recommend a doctors appointment but im hoping she learns to fix it on her own. I'm hoping it begins to appear in someone around her that maybe she isn't as okay as she seems. this beautiful perfectionist doesn't just have bad days and doesn't just spare her low moods in spite of upsetting those around her. this beautiful perfectionist doesn't see herself as beautiful. this beautiful perfectionist is so far from perfect. maybe if someone looked a little deeper in the literal and figurative sense, they would choose to ask, after her automated response of "good", "are you really?" -mxy

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Mar 22, 2015

Mar 22, 2015 at 9:33 PM UTC

figuratively speaking

stripped naked in the figurative sense, I see a girl that is far overdue for a dose of joy. so much emptiness in her eyes, blood flow has become invisible. beauty. oh so much beauty in the way she cares absolutely too much for those that are unaware of her favorite color nevertheless asks how she feels every blue moon. perfectionist could quite possibly be her middle name by the way her heart beats in sync with the spontaneous moods that show their appearance every two days or so. anxiety equals a rapid beat. "if you feel worried then you must act on it" seems to be her philosophy because when she's sad and shaky the heart must go slow. for, she. is. slow. when the depression hits and vulnerability only shows its face behind closed doors im sure she would say that she feels as though she's suffocating. suffocating in the figurative sense, where everyone is there watching her but no one can differentiate heavy breathing in basketball practice from a ******** asthma attack. idiots. so numb. she's so numb in the figurative sense. you ask her how she is and each time it's an automated "good" as if practiced hundreds of times before a theatre performance. an actress. she's an actress in the literal sense. planting a smile from ear to ear even when it's an obvious gloomy day for everyone else. she puts on a show of happiness that could very much earn her an oscar, if only she were literally in the entertainment business. I can see her falling in the way her back hunches just 10 degrees lower than it had a year ago. I would recommend a doctors appointment but im hoping she learns to fix it on her own. I'm hoping it begins to appear in someone around her that maybe she isn't as okay as she seems. this beautiful perfectionist doesn't just have bad days and doesn't just spare her low moods in spite of upsetting those around her. this beautiful perfectionist doesn't see herself as beautiful. this beautiful perfectionist is so far from perfect. maybe if someone looked a little deeper in the literal and figurative sense, they would choose to ask, after her automated response of "good", "are you really?" -mxy

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Distant learning courses in the heart Irrelevant actions have left us all apart Acquisitions decaying those stray minded people It's no longer a commonplace to feel peaceful Simultaneous occurrences have our mind in disarray Through our pasts they begin to replay All these calamitous activities brought through maleficent eyes Disintegrate what's left sending us in a fools paradise We reap to elope from these rigorous bearings we call home Only to find ourselves cast away into the unknown We strive to survive in a world full of abhorrence Being seen transparent just as worthless corpses Those few who prevail are not left without detriment They are forever severed a mental delinquent **Nevertheless our story lives on In this godforsaken marathon** -Joseph B Schneider

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Nov 2, 2014

Nov 2, 2014 at 12:38 PM UTC

The Marathon Man

Distant learning courses in the heart Irrelevant actions have left us all apart Acquisitions decaying those stray minded people It's no longer a commonplace to feel peaceful Simultaneous occurrences have our mind in disarray Through our pasts they begin to replay All these calamitous activities brought through maleficent eyes Disintegrate what's left sending us in a fools paradise We reap to elope from these rigorous bearings we call home Only to find ourselves cast away into the unknown We strive to survive in a world full of abhorrence Being seen transparent just as worthless corpses Those few who prevail are not left without detriment They are forever severed a mental delinquent **Nevertheless our story lives on In this godforsaken marathon** -Joseph B Schneider

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Hidden Weapon By: James Desire See me walking on the vacant street What’s your first thought? Black kid up to no good See me- surrounded by others, my brothers What is your second thought? Black kid in some gang Must be tattooed and tough Discrimination- Hidden Weapon See the clothes I am wearing Big baggy pants, dark Du-Rag and Ripped shirt What is your final thought? Poor old ****** living in a ghetto Discrimination- Hidden Weapon Now Listen, You see me jetting through the silent streets What would you assume then? Arrest! Call the cops Must have been a ****** a robbery, Another black boy crime Discrimination- Hidden Weapon I am just a black boy trying to survive Trying to enjoy-just to stay alive On the street People judging me cause The blackness of my skin The types of clothes I’m in Discrimination- Hidden Weapon Unsuspecting black child taunted, haunted… Fearing that one word-nigga Should I be blamed for crimes committed in the past? Choice-less decisions made Pressure reaches ****** Everything seems lost At the end I feel blamed Nevertheless, I blame you Whites Rejecting Hurting Me- hopeful Pride-earned-not given Defending Defending my dignity Discrimination- Hidden Weapon Should I be judged/blamed for past generations? Then, blame me for… The jazz of Louis Armstrong The voice of Billie Holiday The poetry of Langston Hughes The photography of Gordon Parks The character of Martin Luther King Jr. The power of Coretta Scott King The dignity of Fredrick Douglas Finally, the individuality of James Desire You seek evil in blacks The past has also proven a positive… A positive outcome That helped the development… OF OUR WORLD!

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Sep 24, 2010

Sep 24, 2010 at 11:07 AM UTC

Hidden Weapon By: James Desire See me walking on the vacant street What’s your first thought? Black kid up to no good See me- surrounded by others, my brothers What is your second thought? Black kid in some gang Must be tattooed and tough Discrimination- Hidden Weapon See the clothes I am wearing Big baggy pants, dark Du-Rag and Ripped shirt What is your final thought? Poor old ****** living in a ghetto Discrimination- Hidden Weapon Now Listen, You see me jetting through the silent streets What would you assume then? Arrest! Call the cops Must have been a ****** a robbery, Another black boy crime Discrimination- Hidden Weapon I am just a black boy trying to survive Trying to enjoy-just to stay alive On the street People judging me cause The blackness of my skin The types of clothes I’m in Discrimination- Hidden Weapon Unsuspecting black child taunted, haunted… Fearing that one word-nigga Should I be blamed for crimes committed in the past? Choice-less decisions made Pressure reaches ****** Everything seems lost At the end I feel blamed Nevertheless, I blame you Whites Rejecting Hurting Me- hopeful Pride-earned-not given Defending Defending my dignity Discrimination- Hidden Weapon Should I be judged/blamed for past generations? Then, blame me for… The jazz of Louis Armstrong The voice of Billie Holiday The poetry of Langston Hughes The photography of Gordon Parks The character of Martin Luther King Jr. The power of Coretta Scott King The dignity of Fredrick Douglas Finally, the individuality of James Desire You seek evil in blacks The past has also proven a positive… A positive outcome That helped the development… OF OUR WORLD!

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I Was In Darkness Suffering With Pain When You Came Into My Life With A Ray Of Which Is Meant To Shine I Couldn't Believe My Eyes And What I Was Feeling So I Kept On Asking Myself 'Are You Sure You Are Not Dreaming? ' I Was So Happy To See Things Turn Around But There Raised A Situation Where I Had To Stand My Ground You Might Feel It Was Intentional But Believe Me It Was Purely Circumstantial I Wish You Were Here To See What You Are To Me But Then Again I Can't Just Make You See I Wish You Realize How Much You Are To Me But Then Again I Can't Just Make You Notice All These Might Be A Just A Couple Of Words To You But It Is My Heart Which Is Pouring Out Here All This Might Be Just A Drama To You But This Is My Life That Is On Line Here I Really Don't Know How To Make You Understand When You Are Strongly Fixed That I Will Never Understand But Still I'm Glad I've Fallen For You Because You Are The Best Thing That Happened To Me Nevertheless I Just Want To Let You Know By Saying This That You Are The Unexpected Love Which Swept Me Off My Feet! ! ! ! !

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Aug 12, 2017

Aug 12, 2017 at 10:10 PM UTC

rupa-rani-kudumula

THE UNEXPECTED LOVE

I Was In Darkness Suffering With Pain When You Came Into My Life With A Ray Of Which Is Meant To Shine I Couldn't Believe My Eyes And What I Was Feeling So I Kept On Asking Myself 'Are You Sure You Are Not Dreaming? ' I Was So Happy To See Things Turn Around But There Raised A Situation Where I Had To Stand My Ground You Might Feel It Was Intentional But Believe Me It Was Purely Circumstantial I Wish You Were Here To See What You Are To Me But Then Again I Can't Just Make You See I Wish You Realize How Much You Are To Me But Then Again I Can't Just Make You Notice All These Might Be A Just A Couple Of Words To You But It Is My Heart Which Is Pouring Out Here All This Might Be Just A Drama To You But This Is My Life That Is On Line Here I Really Don't Know How To Make You Understand When You Are Strongly Fixed That I Will Never Understand But Still I'm Glad I've Fallen For You Because You Are The Best Thing That Happened To Me Nevertheless I Just Want To Let You Know By Saying This That You Are The Unexpected Love Which Swept Me Off My Feet! ! ! ! !

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The engine is killing the track, the track is silver, It stretches into the distance. It will be eaten nevertheless. Its running is useless. At nightfall there is the beauty of drowned fields, Dawn gilds the farmers like pigs, Swaying slightly in their thick suits, White towers of Smithfield ahead, Fat haunches and blood on their minds. There is no mercy in the glitter of cleavers, The butcher's guillotine that whispers: 'How's this, how's this?' In the bowl the hare is aborted, Its baby head out of the way, embalmed in spice, Flayed of fur and humanity. Let us eat it like Plato's afterbirth, Let us eat it like Christ. These are the people that were important ---- Their round eyes, their teeth, their grimaces On a stick that rattles and clicks, a counterfeit snake. Shall the hood of the cobra appall me ---- The loneliness of its eye, the eye of the mountains Through which the sky eternally threads itself? The world is blood-hot and personal Dawn says, with its blood-flush. There is no terminus, only suitcases Out of which the same self unfolds like a suit Bald and shiny, with pockets of wishes, Notions and tickets, short circuits and folding mirrors. I am mad, calls the spider, waving its many arms. And in truth it is terrible, Multiplied in the eyes of the flies. They buzz like blue children In nets of the infinite, Roped in at the end by the one Death with its many sticks.

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The engine is killing the track, the track is silver, It stretches into the distance. It will be eaten nevertheless. Its running is useless. At nightfall there is the beauty of drowned fields, Dawn gilds the farmers like pigs, Swaying slightly in their thick suits, White towers of Smithfield ahead, Fat haunches and blood on their minds. There is no mercy in the glitter of cleavers, The butcher's guillotine that whispers: 'How's this, how's this?' In the bowl the hare is aborted, Its baby head out of the way, embalmed in spice, Flayed of fur and humanity. Let us eat it like Plato's afterbirth, Let us eat it like Christ. These are the people that were important ---- Their round eyes, their teeth, their grimaces On a stick that rattles and clicks, a counterfeit snake. Shall the hood of the cobra appall me ---- The loneliness of its eye, the eye of the mountains Through which the sky eternally threads itself? The world is blood-hot and personal Dawn says, with its blood-flush. There is no terminus, only suitcases Out of which the same self unfolds like a suit Bald and shiny, with pockets of wishes, Notions and tickets, short circuits and folding mirrors. I am mad, calls the spider, waving its many arms. And in truth it is terrible, Multiplied in the eyes of the flies. They buzz like blue children In nets of the infinite, Roped in at the end by the one Death with its many sticks.

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The sun sets on the little huts Made of mud and roofs thatched The African child With smiles on his face He hasn't a cause to worry Running to and fro in the scorching sun Lost in the midst of tall trees Humming to the gentle breeze He is a happy child He is oblivious of the hard truth That a sad future awaits him Full of challenges and misery Little does he know Those smiles he once had Widely drawn on his face May dissolve into frowns of anguish Committing neither an offence nor crime There may come a time The beautiful fantasies The hopes, dreams and aspirations Everything he once believed in May come tumbling down Nevertheless, he is relentless There is a ray of hope In this utter darkness Full of vigour and energy By might or magic He will fight his way through He is the African child.

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Aug 12, 2018

Aug 12, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC

The African child

The sun sets on the little huts Made of mud and roofs thatched The African child With smiles on his face He hasn't a cause to worry Running to and fro in the scorching sun Lost in the midst of tall trees Humming to the gentle breeze He is a happy child He is oblivious of the hard truth That a sad future awaits him Full of challenges and misery Little does he know Those smiles he once had Widely drawn on his face May dissolve into frowns of anguish Committing neither an offence nor crime There may come a time The beautiful fantasies The hopes, dreams and aspirations Everything he once believed in May come tumbling down Nevertheless, he is relentless There is a ray of hope In this utter darkness Full of vigour and energy By might or magic He will fight his way through He is the African child.

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Tonight, I am adorned in baby blue lace. I have boundaries nevertheless.

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Nov 15, 2018

Nov 15, 2018 at 11:09 PM UTC

Tonight, I am adorned in baby blue lace. I have boundaries nevertheless.

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By: Cedric McClester When Trump and Carson fall And the foolishness ceases Rubio will be there To pick up the pieces He’s salivating As his chance increases He’s now looking at curtains And White House leases When Trump and Carson fall And the race is in shambles He’ll bet his house You see. The man gambles He’s not alone Cuz there’s many other examples Of men who’ve picked up swatches And other samples When Trump and Carson fall And they look towards the rest Rubio’s convinced That he alone is the best In fact he’s thinking Nevertheless It will be him and not the others There’s no contest When Trump and Carson fall As inevitably they must And Marco Rubio watches the others Bite the dust As they complain Then spit and cuss Marco will be the one To lead the rest of us Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.

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Nov 11, 2015

Nov 11, 2015 at 5:44 AM UTC

cedric-mcclester

WHEN TRUMP AND CARSON FALL

By: Cedric McClester When Trump and Carson fall And the foolishness ceases Rubio will be there To pick up the pieces He’s salivating As his chance increases He’s now looking at curtains And White House leases When Trump and Carson fall And the race is in shambles He’ll bet his house You see. The man gambles He’s not alone Cuz there’s many other examples Of men who’ve picked up swatches And other samples When Trump and Carson fall And they look towards the rest Rubio’s convinced That he alone is the best In fact he’s thinking Nevertheless It will be him and not the others There’s no contest When Trump and Carson fall As inevitably they must And Marco Rubio watches the others Bite the dust As they complain Then spit and cuss Marco will be the one To lead the rest of us Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.

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*Tazaad-e-Jazbaat Mein Ye Naazuk Maqaam Aaya To Kya Karo Gay* **In contradiction of these emotions if that Delicate moment unfolded - then what would you do?** *Main Ro Raha *** Tum Hans Rahe ** Main Muskaraya To Kya Karo Gay* **I am weeping and yet you are jolly But if I smiled - then what would you do?** *Mujhe To Is Darja Vaqt-e-Rukhsat Sukun Ki Talqeen Kar Rahe ** **To me at this time of farewell Instructions of tranquillity you are offering** *Magar Kuch Apne Liye Bhi Socha Main Yaad Aaya To Kya Karo Gay* **But have you any thoughts for yourself? If you recalled me - then what would you do?** *Abhi To Tanqid ** Rahi Hai Mere Mazaq-e-Junun Pe Lekin* **For now there is criticism On my state of madness but** *Tumhari Zulfon Ki Barhami Ka Sawaal Aaya To Kya Karo Gay* **If scattering of your tresses is Questioned - then what would you do?** *Tumhare Jalvon Ki Roshni Mein Nazar Ki Hairania Musallam* **Within the splendour of your light Is complete amazement of sight** *Magar Kisi Ne Nazar Ke Badle Jo Dil Aazmaya To Kya Karo Gay* **Nevertheless if someone in return Tested your heart - then what would you do?** *Utar To Sakte ** Paar Lekin Ma Aal Par Bhi Nigah Dalo* **You can disembark across but Take a glance at the result too** *Khuda Na Karda Sukun-e-Sahil Na Raas Aaya To Kya Karo Gay* **God has not made a peaceful shore If nothing suitable appears - then what would you do?** *Kuch Apne Dil Par Bhi Zakham Khao Mere Lahoo Ki Bahar Kab Tak* **Take some wounds on your heart also Season of my blood until when?** *Mujhe Sahara Banane Vaalo Main Larkharaya To Kya Karo Gay* **Those in need of my support If I show hostility - then what would you do?** *Abhi To Daman Chura Rahe ** Bigar Ke Qabil Se Ja Rahe ** **For now you are leaving my hand And you are parting away from Qabil** *Magar Kabhi Jo Dharkano Mein Sharik Paya To Kya Karo Gay* **Yet sooner or later within your heartbeats If I became a associated - then what would you do?** — Translated by Jamil Hussain, Poet Qabil Ajmeri, Sung by Sabri Brothers

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Oct 26, 2016

Oct 26, 2016 at 5:48 AM UTC

*Tazaad-e-Jazbaat Mein Ye Naazuk Maqaam Aaya To Kya Karo Gay* **In contradiction of these emotions if that Delicate moment unfolded - then what would you do?** *Main Ro Raha *** Tum Hans Rahe ** Main Muskaraya To Kya Karo Gay* **I am weeping and yet you are jolly But if I smiled - then what would you do?** *Mujhe To Is Darja Vaqt-e-Rukhsat Sukun Ki Talqeen Kar Rahe ** **To me at this time of farewell Instructions of tranquillity you are offering** *Magar Kuch Apne Liye Bhi Socha Main Yaad Aaya To Kya Karo Gay* **But have you any thoughts for yourself? If you recalled me - then what would you do?** *Abhi To Tanqid ** Rahi Hai Mere Mazaq-e-Junun Pe Lekin* **For now there is criticism On my state of madness but** *Tumhari Zulfon Ki Barhami Ka Sawaal Aaya To Kya Karo Gay* **If scattering of your tresses is Questioned - then what would you do?** *Tumhare Jalvon Ki Roshni Mein Nazar Ki Hairania Musallam* **Within the splendour of your light Is complete amazement of sight** *Magar Kisi Ne Nazar Ke Badle Jo Dil Aazmaya To Kya Karo Gay* **Nevertheless if someone in return Tested your heart - then what would you do?** *Utar To Sakte ** Paar Lekin Ma Aal Par Bhi Nigah Dalo* **You can disembark across but Take a glance at the result too** *Khuda Na Karda Sukun-e-Sahil Na Raas Aaya To Kya Karo Gay* **God has not made a peaceful shore If nothing suitable appears - then what would you do?** *Kuch Apne Dil Par Bhi Zakham Khao Mere Lahoo Ki Bahar Kab Tak* **Take some wounds on your heart also Season of my blood until when?** *Mujhe Sahara Banane Vaalo Main Larkharaya To Kya Karo Gay* **Those in need of my support If I show hostility - then what would you do?** *Abhi To Daman Chura Rahe ** Bigar Ke Qabil Se Ja Rahe ** **For now you are leaving my hand And you are parting away from Qabil** *Magar Kabhi Jo Dharkano Mein Sharik Paya To Kya Karo Gay* **Yet sooner or later within your heartbeats If I became a associated - then what would you do?** — Translated by Jamil Hussain, Poet Qabil Ajmeri, Sung by Sabri Brothers

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Trivial beauty holds me captive as i sit near the flower Reaching towards it, marveling at the colorful rainbow It flaunts its Sheer beauty, Having it wave with the breeze As i watch The stripes came to take the juice And then left to spread more Lo, the beauty of the stripes and the beauty of its job I followed. leaving the flower. Ever so noisily, It buzzed, harmonically, lovingly it danced in ways that intrigued me so i left the flower to pursue my bee it took me to its hive but disappeared back to join the others back to its life back to her lover ditching me. time flew by and by dark the flower still glows with its rainbow color no matter what comes to it it holds itself tall and proud it stayed in place waiting for me to come such purity i watch Dawn of fall came, and i opened my ears As a yellow flower sang nearby Nevertheless, a sunflower Ah, yellow was such a pretty color flower of the sun, reflecting the most powerful object in our vision this flower had the qualities to shine like one for it shined so brightly during the day i started to watch this flower instead and sing to it, hoping it would grow cared for it with everything i had but i failed to find it during the night for it changed throughout the month, throughout the day soon i found my efforts were nothing and that the sunflower was always in its own flock the yellow flower is still there always will be but its petals always faced something else in the opposite direction and as soon as i come close to getting it it turns away, mimicking its sister, the bee summer came and the rainbow flower, it was still here it never left why? confused, i sat i became sad why did i leave this flower, ever? it still stayed so i've decided to stay. forever.

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Nov 1, 2018

Nov 1, 2018 at 3:34 PM UTC

Trivial beauty holds me captive as i sit near the flower Reaching towards it, marveling at the colorful rainbow It flaunts its Sheer beauty, Having it wave with the breeze As i watch The stripes came to take the juice And then left to spread more Lo, the beauty of the stripes and the beauty of its job I followed. leaving the flower. Ever so noisily, It buzzed, harmonically, lovingly it danced in ways that intrigued me so i left the flower to pursue my bee it took me to its hive but disappeared back to join the others back to its life back to her lover ditching me. time flew by and by dark the flower still glows with its rainbow color no matter what comes to it it holds itself tall and proud it stayed in place waiting for me to come such purity i watch Dawn of fall came, and i opened my ears As a yellow flower sang nearby Nevertheless, a sunflower Ah, yellow was such a pretty color flower of the sun, reflecting the most powerful object in our vision this flower had the qualities to shine like one for it shined so brightly during the day i started to watch this flower instead and sing to it, hoping it would grow cared for it with everything i had but i failed to find it during the night for it changed throughout the month, throughout the day soon i found my efforts were nothing and that the sunflower was always in its own flock the yellow flower is still there always will be but its petals always faced something else in the opposite direction and as soon as i come close to getting it it turns away, mimicking its sister, the bee summer came and the rainbow flower, it was still here it never left why? confused, i sat i became sad why did i leave this flower, ever? it still stayed so i've decided to stay. forever.

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Cricket is the only game which lures me so much; And then engrosses me so much. That craze would never drive out of me… My inspiration was ‘Yuvraj Singh’, Only then I arose to identify that King. Once Yuvi’s record of six sixes in six ***** The firmament was incredible for certain minutes: That was the first time I witnessed cricket, And India’s triumph provided me a mind-blowing buzz to watch cricket, Nevertheless continuing with ***** and wickets. I would turn crazy when Indian cricketers approach the ground, And that would certainly not halt lest they are made proud. This T20 shadowed by IPL, Made me to by stand that awe-inspiring sport. Chennai Super Kings-my favorite, Followed by Royal Challenges Bangalore … And lots more hilarious teams and cricketers. When Chris Gayle approaches… Tsunami warning must be lifted and “Gayle” (gale) warning must be given! That’s how cricket relocates… Most matches concluding in the closing over And some others in the finishing ball… The most exhilarating sport Read more →and the format- IPL is all fun for me… With cheer leaders and the draped studio; With cameras and videos And at last the much awaited IPL trophy- Cricket is all that it needs!!!

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Jan 6, 2013

Jan 6, 2013 at 12:43 AM UTC

AbiramiArunachalam

Cricket is the only game which lures me so much; And then engrosses me so much. That craze would never drive out of me… My inspiration was ‘Yuvraj Singh’, Only then I arose to identify that King. Once Yuvi’s record of six sixes in six ***** The firmament was incredible for certain minutes: That was the first time I witnessed cricket, And India’s triumph provided me a mind-blowing buzz to watch cricket, Nevertheless continuing with ***** and wickets. I would turn crazy when Indian cricketers approach the ground, And that would certainly not halt lest they are made proud. This T20 shadowed by IPL, Made me to by stand that awe-inspiring sport. Chennai Super Kings-my favorite, Followed by Royal Challenges Bangalore … And lots more hilarious teams and cricketers. When Chris Gayle approaches… Tsunami warning must be lifted and “Gayle” (gale) warning must be given! That’s how cricket relocates… Most matches concluding in the closing over And some others in the finishing ball… The most exhilarating sport Read more →and the format- IPL is all fun for me… With cheer leaders and the draped studio; With cameras and videos And at last the much awaited IPL trophy- Cricket is all that it needs!!!

Continue reading...

By: Cedric McClester ALLAHU-AKBAR, (TRUE) GOD IS GREATER THAN THEY KNEW Or why would they do what they do And then pervert al-Islam too BISMILAH – (IN THE NAME OF ALLAH) They plant bombs inside of cars To blow up strangers near and far But they take things too ******* far AL-HUMDILILAH – (PRAISE ALLAH) But not by giving Islam a scar Who the hell they think they are Shaytan’s minions? They’re on par ASTAGFIGALAH (MAY ALLAH FORGIVE) Those not cursed by how they live Chopping heads off especially with A rusty knife known as a shiv INSHALLAH (IF IT’S ALLAH’S WILL) Those who maim and also **** Will soon be presented with the bill And their ambitions will get them nil ALLAHU-ALUM (ALLAH KNOWS BEST) The sins they will have to confess To get those sins up off their chest While facing hell fire nevertheless WALAHI (I SWEAR BY ALLAH) Hell will find them wherever they are In their homes near or far Because they have raised the bar YA-HAMUKALAH (MAY ALLAH PROTECT YOU) From those **** Who constantly beat their war drums And take advantage of the deaf blind and dumb Copyright © 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.

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May 21, 2015

May 21, 2015 at 12:46 AM UTC

cedric-mcclester

ALLAHU-AKBAR, (TRUE)

By: Cedric McClester ALLAHU-AKBAR, (TRUE) GOD IS GREATER THAN THEY KNEW Or why would they do what they do And then pervert al-Islam too BISMILAH – (IN THE NAME OF ALLAH) They plant bombs inside of cars To blow up strangers near and far But they take things too ******* far AL-HUMDILILAH – (PRAISE ALLAH) But not by giving Islam a scar Who the hell they think they are Shaytan’s minions? They’re on par ASTAGFIGALAH (MAY ALLAH FORGIVE) Those not cursed by how they live Chopping heads off especially with A rusty knife known as a shiv INSHALLAH (IF IT’S ALLAH’S WILL) Those who maim and also **** Will soon be presented with the bill And their ambitions will get them nil ALLAHU-ALUM (ALLAH KNOWS BEST) The sins they will have to confess To get those sins up off their chest While facing hell fire nevertheless WALAHI (I SWEAR BY ALLAH) Hell will find them wherever they are In their homes near or far Because they have raised the bar YA-HAMUKALAH (MAY ALLAH PROTECT YOU) From those **** Who constantly beat their war drums And take advantage of the deaf blind and dumb Copyright © 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.

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By dying on the cross He erased our sins By coming to life He makes new life begin We see Him on the cross and it brings a tear to my eye He could have chosen other things and yet… He CHOSE to die! CHORUS: There is Beauty in the Ultimate Sacrifice Holding out his arms He’s welcoming the price With wide open arms He says “I love you” With a caring heart He says “I do” With an open mind He welcomes us With supporting arms He carries us God gave us all a second chance So out of love “Shall we dance?” Though He died and we ask “What good can come of this?” He saved all so rather than despair we bathe in bliss CHORUS: There is Beauty in the Ultimate Sacrifice Holding out his arms He’s welcoming the price With wide open arms He says “I love you” With a caring heart He says “I do” With an open mind He welcomes us With supporting arms He carries us When we fall down He picks us back up He fills us with His love like an overflowing cup Now I see with open eyes and heart “You and I were never far apart” CHORUS: There is Beauty in the Ultimate Sacrifice Holding out His arms welcoming the price With open arms He says “I love you” With a caring heart He says “I do” With an open mind He welcomes us In His hands He carries us The Lord our God is a promise kept And when He wiped us out He also wept God sent His Only Son to die on a cross And by rising on the third He showed satan who was boss! CHORUS: There is Beauty in the Ultimate Sacrifice Holding out His arms welcoming the price With open arms He says “I love you” With a caring heart He says “I do” With an open mind He welcomes us In His hands He carries us I look up at the cross on high And ask my God the question “Why?” He doesn’t answer me that I can hear But nevertheless to me my God is dear That is Beauty in the Ultimate Sacrifice!

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Oct 22, 2013

Oct 22, 2013 at 12:14 PM UTC

Beauty in the Ultimate Sacrifice

By dying on the cross He erased our sins By coming to life He makes new life begin We see Him on the cross and it brings a tear to my eye He could have chosen other things and yet… He CHOSE to die! CHORUS: There is Beauty in the Ultimate Sacrifice Holding out his arms He’s welcoming the price With wide open arms He says “I love you” With a caring heart He says “I do” With an open mind He welcomes us With supporting arms He carries us God gave us all a second chance So out of love “Shall we dance?” Though He died and we ask “What good can come of this?” He saved all so rather than despair we bathe in bliss CHORUS: There is Beauty in the Ultimate Sacrifice Holding out his arms He’s welcoming the price With wide open arms He says “I love you” With a caring heart He says “I do” With an open mind He welcomes us With supporting arms He carries us When we fall down He picks us back up He fills us with His love like an overflowing cup Now I see with open eyes and heart “You and I were never far apart” CHORUS: There is Beauty in the Ultimate Sacrifice Holding out His arms welcoming the price With open arms He says “I love you” With a caring heart He says “I do” With an open mind He welcomes us In His hands He carries us The Lord our God is a promise kept And when He wiped us out He also wept God sent His Only Son to die on a cross And by rising on the third He showed satan who was boss! CHORUS: There is Beauty in the Ultimate Sacrifice Holding out His arms welcoming the price With open arms He says “I love you” With a caring heart He says “I do” With an open mind He welcomes us In His hands He carries us I look up at the cross on high And ask my God the question “Why?” He doesn’t answer me that I can hear But nevertheless to me my God is dear That is Beauty in the Ultimate Sacrifice!

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Life contracts and death is expected, As in a season of autumn. The soldier falls. He does not become a three-days personage, Imposing his separation, Calling for pomp. Death is absolute and without memorial, As in a season of autumn, When the wind stops, When the wind stops and, over the heavens, The clouds go, nevertheless, In their direction.

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5.2k

Wallace Stevens

The Death of a Soldier

Life contracts and death is expected, As in a season of autumn. The soldier falls. He does not become a three-days personage, Imposing his separation, Calling for pomp. Death is absolute and without memorial, As in a season of autumn, When the wind stops, When the wind stops and, over the heavens, The clouds go, nevertheless, In their direction.

Continue reading...