To An Aspirant
What! you a Senator-you, Mike de Young?
Still reeking of the gutter whence you sprung?
Sir, if all Senators were such as you,
Their hands so crimson and so slender, too,
(Shaped to the pocket for commercial work,
For literary, fitted to the dirk)
So black their hearts, so lily-white their livers,
The toga's touch would give a man the shivers.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moon Shadows
The lily white brillance
Of the silken full moon
Engages the shadows
In the alleys of hardened goons;
Stoic but fused with crimson infection
They-the guilty hands of crime
Are disfigured from the sinners stain
Their insolence breaks open their grime;
Lurking ever deviously...
In the first flush of night
The truth-it buzzes continuosly
Compliments of the moons lily white! ;
poem by Theodora Onken
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While I get a few coins from my pocket
Yesterday there were young black men
standing in underpants
at the Apies river
and they were busy
washing their clothes
in the dark brown water
In one of the remote corners
of Sunnyside
a big cardboard box stands
at a shop’s entrance
on the sidewalk
and I see an old white man and woman
crawling out of it one winter morning
and they have got a half white bread
that they share with a white and black fox terrier.
At shoprite in Voortrekker street
a young black man
tries to sell fake perfume
and wants to know nothing
about removing his head
from the car’s window.
I place his goods
next to my car’s door
and tell my darling
to close her window
while he walks round the car
to get him out of the car.
At a pick-a-pay
there’s a small white woman
that’s a car guard
and always helps politely
to get the bags into the boot.
Then I realised
that if you just look around
there are countless people,
that life bites into pieces
and I wonder where
everything in this country is going?
While I get a few coins from my pocket
out of my pocket,
I feel guilty
to live like a king
and to see
others struggle around me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Black man be human
Black man takes out his wallet and lays it bare for all to see
Marauding notes casing his dignity
Black man be human
Question, how can I be?
Equal to the white man, silk hair smooth skin
Black man be human
Status restored but dignity ignored
Simply shaped by his disfigured identity
Causing all to scream
Black man be human
Black man takes out his wallet and lays it bare for all to see
A face achieved yet sadly he realises
Now the world screams
Black man you are human
Shaped in a western perception
Of what it means to be
Black man you are human
Black man: ‘I am human'
As they told me to be
No uniqueness
Or vision
Shaped
Character
Just like them
Black man: ‘I am human'
poem by Lindsay Maasdorp
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She's A Butterfly
She remembers when she first got her wings
And how she opened up that day
she learned to sing
Then the colors came, erased the
black and white
And her whole world changed
when she realized
[Chorus:]
She's a butterfly, pretty as the crimson sky
Nothing's ever gonna bring her down
And everywhere she goes
Everybody knows she's so glad to be alive
She's a butterfly
Like the purest light in a darkened world
So much hope inside such a lovely girl
You should see her fly, it's almost magical
It makes you wanna cry, she's so beautiful
[Chorus]
God bless the butterfly,
give her the strength to fly
Never let her wings touch the ground
God bless the butterfly,
give her strength to fly
Never let her wings touch the ground
[Chorus]
God bless the butterfly,
give her the strength to fly
Never let her wings touch the ground
God bless the butterfly,
give her the strenght to fly
Never let her wings touch the ground
song performed by by Martina Mcbride
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Garden Of Girls
KATE is like a violet, Gertrude's like a rose,
Jane is like a gillyflower smart;
But Laura's like a lily, the purest bud that blows,
Whose white, white petals veil the golden heart.
Girls in the garden--one and two and three--
One for song and one for play and one--ah, one for me!
Gillyflowers and violets and roses fair and fine,
But only one a lily, and that one lily mine!
Bertha is a hollyhock, stately, tall, and fair,
Mabel has the daisy's dainty grace,
Edith has the gold of the sunflower on her hair,
But Laura wears the lily in her face.
Girls in the garden--five and six and seven--
Three to take, and three to give, but one--ah! one is given--
Hollyhocks and daisies, and sunflowers like the sun,
But only one a lily, and that one lily won.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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(Waiting For) The Ghost Train
A straw headed woman, and a barrel chested man,
A pocket full of posies with a hat brim full of sand,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
A dog chasing the tumbleweeds, across the sandy floor,
That drift along the platform, through the ticket office door,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
But don't tell me there's nothing coming, you don't fool me,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
The station master's writing with a piece of orange chalk,
A hundred cancellations, still no one wants to walk,
Keep the hungry children from the skeletons in the back,
Paid to keep an eye out for the gipsy caravan,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
And I hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ghost Train
A straw headed woman, and a barrel chested man,
A pocket full of posies with a hat brim full of sand,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
A dog chasing the tumbleweeds, across the sandy floor,
That drift along the platform, through the ticket office door,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
But don't tell me there's nothing coming, you don't fool me,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
The station master's writing with a piece of orange chalk,
A hundred cancellations, still no one wants to walk,
Keep the hungry children from the skeletons in the back,
Paid to keep an eye out for the gipsy caravan,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
Ooh - waiting for the train that never comes,
I hear the ghost train rumbling along the tracks - set them free,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white (don't try),
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
And i hear them,
It's black and white don't try to hide,
It's black and white don't try to hide...
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Miles And Miles
years and years,
miles and miles...
of hands,
grasping mine, holding on
for a time and then letting go...
being grasped by mine,
being pulled up, pulling up,
held onto in spite of...
black, brown, white, and red...
male and female, old and young,
soft, gnarled, and scarred...
hands joining together,
backs against the wall,
hands that pray without letting go,
hands that let go
when the time demands...
hands that build and take down,
that deliver and stand by...
hands powered by hearts
that beat true and human!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Throw Your Hands Up
1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,90 aaliyahs in the house so check,check it out
1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,90 aaliyahs in the house so check,check it out
The time has finally come to save my beats with the funky hip hop swing
(the funky swing I might add) oh check it
No holding back now is the time, to get busy
So take me to the bridge
I work hard for mine, spending all my time
To give you what you need
So if you down with this funky flavor thorw your hands up
And if you got fever for aaliyah throw your hands up
And if you down with blackground thorw your hands up
And if it got soul let me see your hands up
If you got bass in your jeeps thorw your hands up
If your not down with the crack thorw your hands up
And if you think your hyper enough to swing it thorw your hands up
And if your down with the second chapter thorw your hands up
Straight from the streets is where Im coming from (sraight out the streets)
With the touch of jazz in me, check it
Take in no shorts when it comes down to shows
I got to reck it, so take me to the bridge
I work hard for mine spending all my time
To give what you need
Where you at, where you at
So if your down with the pa let me see your hands up
And if your head is bobin to the track throw your hands up
And if you got loot in your pocket throw your hands up
And if you not foul let me see your hands up
And if your protected and you know it throw your hands up
And if r kellys record is sharp let me see your hands up
And if your body swing to the track throw your hands up
And if you want some more of the flover throw your hands up
Uh,uh,uh yeah,yeah
Aaliyah bust a free style
This is for the jeeps
Strictly for the jeeps
This is for the jeeps
(repeat)
So if your down with the funky flover thorw your hands up
And if you got the fever for aaliyah throw your hands up
And if you down with blackground throw your hands up
And if you got bass in your jeeps throw your hands up
If your not down with the crack throw your hands up
And if you think your hyper enough to swing it throw your hands up
And if your down with the second chapter throw your hands up
So if your down with the pa let me see your hands up
And if your head is bobin to the track throw your hands up
And if you got loot in your pocket throw your hands up
And if you not foul let me see your hands up
And if your protected and you know it throw your hands up
And if r kellys record is sharp let me see your hands up
And if your body swing to the track throw your hands up
And if you want some more throw your hands up
song performed by by Aaliyah
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To the United States Senate
And must the Senator from Illinois
Be this squat thing, with blinking, half-closed eyes?
This brazen gutter idol, reared to power
Upon a leering pyramid of lies?
And must the Senator from Illinois
Be the world's proverb of successful shame,
Dazzling all State house flies that steal and steal,
Who, when the sad State spares them, count it fame?
If once or twice within his new won hall
His vote had counted for the broken men;
If in his early days he wrought some good —
We might a great soul's sins forgive him then.
But must the Senator from Illinois
Be vindicated by fat kings of gold?
And must he be belauded by the smirched,
The sleek, uncanny chiefs in lies grown old?
Be warned, O wanton ones, who shielded him —
Black wrath awaits. You all shall eat the dust.
You dare not say: "To-morrow will bring peace;
Let us make merry, and go forth in lust."
What will you trading frogs do on a day
When Armageddon thunders thro' the land;
When each sad patriot rises, mad with shame,
His ballot or his musket in his hand?
In the distracted states from which you came
The day is big with war hopes fierce and strange;
Our iron Chicagos and our grimy mines
Rumble with hate and love and solemn change.
Too many weary men shed honest tears,
Ground by machines that give the Senate ease.
Too many little babes with bleeding hands
Have heaped the fruits of empire on your knees.
And swine within the Senate in this day,
When all the smothering by-streets weep and wail;
When wisdom breaks the hearts of her best sons;
When kingly men, voting for truth, may fail: —
These are a portent and a call to arms.
Our protest turns into a battle cry:
"Our shame must end, our States be free and clean;
And in this war we choose to live and die."
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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A Parody
Lazy-bones, lazy-bones, wake up and peep;
The Cat's in the cupboard, your Mother's asleep.
There you sit snoring, forgetting her ills:
Who is to give her her Bolus and Pills?
Twenty-five Angels must come into Town,
All for to help you to make your new gown-
Dainty aerial Spinsters & Singers:
Aren't you asham'd to employ such white fingers?
Delicate Hands, unaccustom'd to reels,
To set 'em a washing at poor body's wheels?
Why they came down is to me all a riddle,
And left hallelujah broke off in the middle.
Jove's Court & the Presence Angelical cut,
To eke out the work of a lazy young slut.
Angel-duck, angel-duck, wingèd & silly,
Pouring a watering pot over a lily,
Gardener gratuitous, careless of pelf,
Leave her to water her Lily herself,
Or to neglect it to death, if she chuse it;
Remember, the loss is her own if she lose it.
poem by Charles Lamb
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-75
Spider lily(Beach spider lily
Hymenocallis littoralis)
Calm and lovely, she's Spider Lily
White and peace she's Spider Lily
Pristine and pure she's Spider Lily
Silent and certain she's Spider Lily
There, up above the fanning leaves
Asunder below staminal cup she's
Overflowing her nectarian streams
Mind-blowing her aura measureless
Sacred tepals lofty with beauty
Stamens atop splurging as deputy
There goes heaven's sweet ditty
Miss not a white goddess pretty
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Red, White, and Blue
brown and black,
red, and white...
old and young,
male and female.
tired and poor,
pushed too far!
too honest for
our own good...
small towns, big cities,
farms and factories...
hands that work
joined together...
we are a people
that believe in people...
the faces of freedom,
and we have names!
red, white, and blue!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Crimson Insane
Crimson Love,
who can this be,
Not I,
not you,
nor anybody,
look to crimson so enviously,
smile and grin,
look what you could have been,
Look at crimson now
what do you see?
Falling apart,
a crimson mind shackled yet free,
I'm losing it..... realities touch,
I'm going insane, this life is to much,
Forget all this... but memories remain,
I laugh at the humor, that is crimson insane.
poem by Crimson Love
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Lily-white Child
lily white child
hallow to thy fair
the twinklin bliss of thy eye
and beatific expression of thy face
to thy sublime innocent
in d spectrum of thy beauty
Ooh lily-white child
thy aesthetic opulency
like nebula of stars
in the terrain of rainbow
lily white child
smile like of heaven wide
sapphire teeth of angel
hallow to thy halo pure
lily white child
pure like distilled water.
poem by Samuel Francis Leumas
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‘Man-Shaped-Rook-In-Rags’
with
filthy fists fishing
‘man-shaped-rook-in-rags’
scours
bin-top basin
looking for lovely long white worms
of
nasty nicotine
&
bum finds butts
not ‘caw-cawing’
but yellow
claws
clawing through
dirty
white ash
poem by Mike Sheriff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spring Has Sprung
Spring has sprung
With the abundance
Of blossoming flowers
The feel of affection
With kindling of love
When two souls meet
The spring bring such delight
In the early morning light
With hearts of satisfaction
Spring brings sweet smells
Of lily of the valley
Where the green grass grows
Where the water flows
And children are playing
With fun and laughter
One would say that
Spring has sprung
With such loveliness
That can only be felt
This time of year
With such an exhilaration
poem by Scott Austin
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A Better Way
There’s a better way of digging
Than that, Uncle said, taking the
Spade from your hands and showing
You with a craftsman’s touch how
It should be done. You watched in
Wonder how with ease and skill he’d
Made the trench begin to shape far
More quickly than your frail work
Produced. He handed you back the
Spade and you noticed the calluses
That years of using spades and other
Workman’s tools had made. He took
Hold of your hand and turned it over,
Gazed intently and smiled and shook
His head. Such lily-white hands were
Made for pen not spade or hoe or rake,
He said, finish what’s started, lad, then
Return to your studies and pen instead.
poem by Terry Collett
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Celebrate Youth
I can see the older man
Looking at the younger man
I can see the younger man
Looking at the boy
Over there the older woman
Is looking at the younger woman
I can see the younger woman
Looking at the girl
cause every man sees
In the younger man the hope
Every woman sees
In the younger girl the dream
Everybody lives
The pride and passion of the young
From the womb to the tomb
We will remember what it means
So celebrate youth (celebrate)
Those who have it (young ones)
Celebrate youth (celebrate)
Give them sight
The future of the worlds in the (celebrate)
Hands of children (young ones)
So celebrate youth (celebrate)
Teach them right
Looking in a childs eye
Theres no hate and theres no lie
Theres no black and theres no white
I can see the older man
Sometimes in the older man
I still see the young boy
Burning in his eye
And locked up here inside our spirit
Is the child that we are, hear it
Some of us will always fear it
And some will heed the cry
But everyone sees
In the younger one the hope
Everybody sees
In the younger one the dream
Everybody lives
The pride and passion of the young
From the womb to the tomb
We will remember what it means
So celebrate youth (celebrate)
Those who have it (young ones)
Celebrate youth (celebrate)
Give them sight
The future of the worlds in the (celebrate)
Hands of children (young ones)
So celebrate youth (celebrate)
Teach them right
Looking in a childs face
Theres no pride and no disgrace
Theres no struggle, theres no fight
Everybody sees
In the younger one the hope
Everybody sees
In the younger one the dream
Everybody lives
The pride and passion of the young
From the womb to the tomb
We will remember what it means
Looking in a childs eye
Theres no hate and theres no lie
Theres no black and theres no white
So celebrate youth (celebrate)
Those who have it (young ones)
Celebrate youth (celebrate)
Give them sight
The future of the worlds in the (celebrate)
Hands of children (young ones)
So celebrate youth (celebrate)
Teach them right
Looking in a childs eye
Theres no hate and theres no lie
Theres no black and theres no white
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those Hands Joining
Great grandma’s hands
Grandma’s, mama’s,
sister's hands
Aunt’s and niece’s
Hands, they join today
An epic telling the stories
About touch, about prayer,
About reaching, about the years
Of caressing and holding on
To love, persevering and
Resting the hands on the
Hands of the other hands
Those moments of silence
When the hands speak more
When the mouths accept
The loss of the power of words
When even the hearts give in
Because the hands are warmer
And so comforting.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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