she lie on the earth clawing at it with a slow and steady pace digging with her nails pausing just briefly as i walked up her clothes were new freshly pressed her handbag most stylish for her age the veins in her hands pulsed with passion and beads of sweat like tears flowed from her face she said nothing to me i held my breath for a moment and asked what is your name she once again paused sighed and said mary mary b franklin and then she resumed her digging i turned to go but looking down beside her i saw a stone james w franklin
with every breath
you take
world suffering
fills your being
there is
no hiding place
the shots fired
piercing the flesh
of your love one
pouring
hot molten misery
into your veins
even behind
your locked doors
of indifference
came from the hand
of human suffering
there is
no hiding place
though you divert
your eyes
from the tortured souls
that spot your city’s streets
you cannot sweep away
their image in your mind
that fosters the fear
that keeps your
doors locked and barred
making every sound
in the night
reverberate loudly
causing you to sweat
and toss from side to side
inside your sheltered enclave
of denial
there is
no hiding place
like the quaking of the earth
human suffering cannot be ignored
it moves the very foundation
of every world community
its frigid winds
swirl into your life
finding you
as easily
as death
Point-Counter Point Challenge: For those of you have been following the challenges between Jade and I, you are aware that several challenges have taken place over the course of the last few months. This time, the challenge was to be initiated by me and I decided to change the rules a little…well a lot. Here’s how it works this time. Each poet provides the other poet with five quotations that must be addressed from the opposite point of view as the original quote. Here is the fourth quote that Jade provided to me: “You can hold yourself back from the sufferings of the world, that is something you are free to do and it accords with your nature, but perhaps this very holding back is the one suffering you could avoid.” – Franz Kafka
Point-Counter Point Challenge: For those of you have been following the challenges between Jade and I, you are aware that several challenges have taken place over the course of the last few months. This time, the challenge was to be initiated by me and I decided to change the rules a little…well a lot. Here’s how it works this time. Each poet provides the other poet with five quotations that must be addressed from the opposite point of view as the original quote. So here we go…here is the first quote that Jade provided to me: “If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they’ll kill you.” Oscar Wilde
die laughing…
the thin veneer
of laughter
disguised the crowds intent
for before this day
would be done
the poison of hatred
would pierce their skins
and flow like
quicksilver
into their veins
and they would
be transformed
into a mob
a serpent without a head
no logic nor reason
nor sense of right or wrong
just the urge to kill
to rise up against
the humor of reality
and grasp the throat
of truth
until its breath
is no more
and the deed
of murder
would be done
and truth
would have died
laughing
did you touch
the sacred robe
of truth
as it passed by
did you see
the glow of caring
around the head
of hope
that wore a crown
of rejection
did you see
the piercing thorns
of fear
clawing at the flesh
of faith
could you not hear
the flood of dreams
being washed away
from the veins
of existence
through a partially opened window
it enters in the night
like a vapor
with its fingers of doubt
touching each fiber of our being
as we lie there curled
with
our hearts pounding
veins in our neck pulsating
almost exploding
feeling smothered
by our own breath
then the tingling sets in
as our hands
defy our command
to reach out
trembling and shaking
one hand extends
to the other side of the bed
to find them
there
but to not find them there
would be to
wake up
dead
i am an old soldier
the scars i have
and the wars
i’ve fought
are many
each scar you see
is yours
for each war
has been for you
so my blood
runs in your veins
transfused there
by some battlefield medic
wars
that you have
only read about
not cared about
as you stood in line
at starbucks
holding the morning news
in hands now ink-stained
hands that you washed
as if the ink was blood
and you wash them again
when i returned home
scrubbing me from your memory
as well as any thought
of your part
in those deaths
upon the cross
of freedom
Read Between the Minds 