Posts Tagged ‘Peace’

are you a pedestrian
crossing that narrow inlet
of water,
once tormented by salmon
quick flickering to spawn,
no cars or vehicles
yet still you walk,
with a wake about your boots
head down,
light was changing,
and that thread of thought
was anchoring your brow down,
a kiss has a momentum
beyond the lips
carried on a narrow breath
that would never
bring you to a standstill,
salt on eyelashes
cast by the sea
tainting tongue
drying lips,
once clear
return to the cottage
owned by our cities
last blind man,
and wait at the glass

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winters thorns bury deep
flesh pierced by that uneased dark
until candles dripping pale
tore aside the emptiness
illuminating dust
and a heart enclosed deep beneath a breast
her warmth reflected in those eyes,
he would embrace,
beyond all walls a snowy temper raged
sweeping alongside doors
muffling all that was brutal,
in hold and secure
dawn was a long way off
a thousand years would pass
before a few magic smitten would know
stars would die
and planets turn
winding in secrets so human,
lips tremble withholding so many words
that he would say
and she would reply
as a chosen wonder,
that urge carnal became a vapor
glimmer of hope,
and futures peace at stake,
memory fickle put upon pages
of a shameless scrawl
edited by many kings
dissolved into legend and myth
springs reaction would reveal much,
embrace over
fragile reflections and shadows
for the movement so vividly intact
would leave so many
damaged echoes
that conflict is inevitable

if rambo sewed curtains
instead of his arm
what strength would he
place in the cotton,
resilience to tugs and pressure
from a climbing cat
or a child wishing
to see snow from a
winters window,
it need not be war
it need not be pain,
sometimes curtains close
out the things we wish
not to see,
but does rambo need
to sew them every time

poetry , poem

Rambo

Until

Time paused
a moment imploded,
the shuddering tremor,
rippled in dramatic light
silence came with pain,
fallen boughs
new sown seeds,
growth blemished in bark
reaching skyward
with gentle  leaves,
the tree had not forgotten
yet learned from it's birth
never to touch
that light
or feel that moment
again.

Kyochikuto/Oleander

from chugoku to the ota
nothing remained
upon the debris strewn
red earth,
in the silence
that  came with time,
shoots with elliptic leaves
to five bright petals,
vivid signal that,
survival is the future
that through resilience
we find a peace
and learn that for
no other reason
it should never
happen again.


With these two poems i came third out of 741 poets worldwide and was presented with a gift from the Japanese government and they where read out at a ceremony at UN headquarters in New York by the Japanese Ambassador which you can watch here http://www.un.org/disarmament/special/meetings/dis_week/ the poems revolve around the Hibakusha survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the poems are also going into a book in New York

from his minaret

a muezzin calls,

seeing new light lengthen

into shadows on the streets

as those of prayer approach,

first of five calls

that he never forgot

he served god as a voice,

sound of wings caught attention

a white falcon landed before him

perched on stone edge

head tilted

eyes spoke more than the beak,

voice faltered in mid call

from the remnants of dark

tattered crows flew in

looking for the rejected brother

kaf left behind,

muezzin touched falcons face

communicating

as the faithful below watched,

crows taunted minaret

hollow eyes caught flash

of gold,

muezzin had been spoken to

a journey to be undertaken

to which of the seven valleys

he was unsure,

he had to find the bond and unity

that once nurtured earth

as he had remembered it,

with falcon on arm

stepped down spiral staircase

a purpose found

laughter in the hollow of her throat

as moon breaks the body,

ribbon eyelids flutter under kiss

his fingers touched auburn hair

that fell over sand pillows

spent and tired bones felt broken,

dreams have a bold voice

to those who need the warmth

he knelt beside with longing

for her to be more than a long rapture,

kissing her ankle

against his lips no cold tremor

she was all confession and truth to him,

her heart soft as an apricot

picked from behind a breast

he the only one,

his words of struggle

the urge to thrive and live in this world

or find solace in the next,

beyond borders of another land

she is from within

listening through ears

whispered on each morning,

after a long shower she dressed

under his gaze

sovereignty of eyes made her feel not

alone,

she had honor and resilience

no longer that awkward shy girl

from a minnesota school,

her hand felt his harden on hers

to be there farewell until later,

she felt no shock on leaving the house

no irony or weariness

bag slung over shoulder

walking to the bus,

catching smiles of men who wanted to

possess,

a word she heard that made her smile

infidels

she was now a vessel

returning to the mall

that very mall she worked a beauty salon

for minimum wage,

today would be her immortal day

memory and history would find a place

for her,

her soul had a message to be given to the

world,

and with a single bomb she would carry it

105

 

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This topic is difficult and in somber mood has to be aired that any country terrorism can come from any angle not just foreigners and immigrants as some areas of the media like to point out, sometimes as seen here in England it is the young and impressionable no job or low income find they have become fed up and to want act , react against what they see is against them be it family or government and others can prey on them influence them not saying this happens in all cases as you have extremists everywhere in religion or politics the thing is the message has to be conveyed that we are community all of us the world has shrunk and we must care more to prevent such horrific acts of mindful violence it sounds simplistic but is there a perfect answer i hope so one day

shadows standing empty

as we moved from the tree,

he worked with sweat for bread,

she wore only handmade dresses

fabric accumulated from a saving mother,

he had written to her heart

as it understood the depth

that his motive went to,

every day in lengthy plan

hours conceived into moments

stolen away from the factory

to the hill,

sanctuary of silence from the state

propaganda and revolution,

fresh baked filled the air with a resonance,

they as patriots fervent as they are lovers,

planned wedding and battle

as an intertwined plan,

analogy of expectation

that had no sourness,

ignore siting safe indoors

sound the bells of union,

warm tingle of happiness

before the steely clamor

of guns

spring-1935 kuzma petrov-vodin

magpie tales statue stamp 185