Widow of Massacre
Some said she lost,
None said she crossed,
Nothing was known clear
Something about her was fear.
Everything, though said,
She's a widow of massacre.
If asked, she never say,
because witness you can pay,
She lost hee husband,
Then lost her hand.
Everything, though said,
She's a widow of massacre.
Behind her, there're stories,
Behind stories, there's worries,
Her village was ambushed,
And in bullets, washed.
Everything, though said,
She's a widow of massacre.
She survived the claws of wild,
After death of her single child,
Finally she ran to this village,
Where we paid her homage.
Everything, though said
She's a widow of massacre.
poem by Buyunde Acura Sylivester
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Related quotes
Massacre Of The Unborn
No survive
Unborn child
Cut to pieces
Left without a name
Unwanted because of the problems of humanity
Unspeakable crime
Silent war is the name of the game
Millions are dying in actions of death and pain
Misguided mothers make this happen
Sometimes for a financial situation
Or a sexual mistake
[Chorus:]
Massacre of the unborn
Massacre of the unborn
Massacre of the unborn child
Innocent blood cries in vain
Defenseless lives are slaughtered everyday
They should make a law against this insanity
Unborn corpses are growing in extreme quantity
Premature stage
Slowly destroyed by the human race
[Lead]
Tortured by tyrants
Unjustly demise
Infant children are left to die
Just innocent lives they slay
There is no chance to escape
Murdering is the matter of this case
A merciless torture to take
No one will live, because they won't survive
There's infant dying
Can't you see
That they will not have a chance
Of growing up in this life
[Lead]
[Chorus:]
Massacre of the unborn
Massacre of the unborn
Massacre of the unborn child
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song For Heroes
Captain O’Hare was a mariner brave;
He refused to abandon his ship;
A hero, he sleeps in a watery grave—
And his widow is now Mrs. Bipp,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Bipp!
Henri Dupont was a fearless young ace;
Five thousand feet up he was hit;
Each year on his grave pretty flowers we place—
And his widow is now Mrs. Schmitt,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Schmitt!
Corporal Dunn was a volunteer bold;
He plunged in the deadliest fray;
A bayonet thrust laid him out stony cold—
And his widow is now Mrs. Gray,
Haw! Haw!
His widow is now Mrs. Gray!
But Peter McGuck was a cowardly sneak,
Like a hound he remained home in fear;
When fishing one day he fell into the creek—
And his widow is now Mrs. Greer,
Haw! Haw! Haw!
Mrs. William O’Houlihan Greer!
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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The Black Knight's Song
Knight And Wamba
There came three merry men from south, west, and north,
Ever more sing the roundelay;
To win the Widow of Wycombe forth,
And where was the widow might say them nay?
The first was a knight, and from Tynedale he came,
Ever more sing the roundelay;
And his fathers, God save us, were men of great faine,
And where was the widow might say him nay?
Of his father the laird, of his uncle the squire,
He boasted in rhyme and in roundelay;
She bade him go bask by his sea-coal fire,
For she was the widow would say him nay.
Wamba
The next that came forth, swore by blood and by nails,
Merrily sing the roundelay;
Hur's a gentleman, God wot, and hur's lineage was of Wales,
And where was the widow might say him nay?
Sir David ap Morgan ap Griffith ap Hugh
Ap Tudor ap Rhice, quoth his roundelay;
She said that one widow for so many was too few,
And she bade the Welshman wend his way.
But then next came a yeoman, a yeoman of Kent,
Jollily singing his roundelay;
He spoke to the widow of living and rent,
And where was the widow could say him nay?
Both
So the knight and the squire were both left in the mire,
There for to sing their roundelay;
For a yeoman of Kent, with his yearly rent,
There never was a widow could say him nay.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Black Widow
I just love my nightmares
I cant wait to sleep
Enjoying all my dreams
Got no regrets
I can be a flash of lightning
Striking down on rocks
Burning down the law
Getting things I never got
Turning the world
Nothing unheard
One night can be more than a day
Just like a black widow
Like a black widow
I cant stand the dreamers
Scared of things that fly
They just have sweet fantasies
And fade and die
Nightmares - are so good, so good
And they always end just when they should
Nightmares are cool, nightmares are cruel
I love the fun and the thrill
Just like a black widow
Like a black widow
Black widow
Just like a black widow
Here comes the morning
And who can deny
Leaving the dream is so hard
I love my nightmares
I await their return
And this time, Im dressed to kill, dressed to kill
Just like a black widow............
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poor Boy’s Christmas
Observe, my child, this pretty scene,
And note the air of pleasure keen
With which the widow’s orphan boy
Toots his tin horn, his only toy.
What need of costly gifts has he?
The widow has nowhere to flee.
And ample noise his horn emits
To drive the widow into fits.
MORAL:
The philosophic mind can see
The uses of adversity.
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Sing for the moment
The world progresses
Another person lost in the abyss of death
Another war raged
Lives ended in a second
Disasters strike
It unleashed its wrath on the earth
Thousands escaped its rage
Thousands did not
A sudden madman
A massacre happening in this world
Racism burns in the hearts of some
Killing…dying
Why does all this starts?
When will it ever end?
All these deaths
Haunting the world
But what can we do?
How can we stop all this?
How do we put an end to this suffering?
We need to sing for the moment!
Let the world be touched by our song!
Let the world listen to us!
Let all these killing stop!
All we need to do is to sing for the moment.
poem by Massacre Machine
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War: a massacre of people who don't know each other for the profit of people who know each other but don't massacre each other.
quote by Paul Valery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I Ever Marry, I'll Marry A Maid
If ever I marry, I'll marry a maid;
To marry a widow, I am sore afraid:
For maids they are simple, and never will grutch,
But widows full oft, as they say, know too much.
A maid is so sweet, and so gentle of kind,
That a maid is the wife I will choose to my mind
A widow is froward, and never will yield;
Or if such there be, you will meet them but seeld.
A maid ne'er complaineth, do what so you will;
But what you mean well, a widow takes ill:
A widow will make you a drudge and a slave,
And, cost ne'er so much, she will ever go brave.
A maid is so modest, she seemeth a rose
When it first beginneth the bud to unclose;
But a widow full-blowen full often deceives,
And the next wind that bloweth shakes down all her leaves.
The widows be lovely, I never gainsay,
But too well all their beauty they know to display;
But a maid hath so great hidden beauty in store,
She can spare to a widow, yet never be poor.
Then, if ever I marry, give me a fresh maid,
If to marry with any I be not afraid;
But to marry with any, it asketh much care;
And some bachelors hold they are best as they are.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Sonnet: The Young Widow
What will she do, the poor widow so young?
Her husband died by accident sudden!
The world will not keep quiet with its tongue;
It blamed the lady for the mishap then.
And now, a few years later, changed have things;
Nay, her agony always does remain;
Her daughter’s growing fast and problems brings;
Though now a doctor, life is sad again.
Society looks down upon a widow!
’Tis a male-dominated cruel world;
What treacherous plight for the lady, oh!
The world on widow-remarriage is cold.
How will she quench her sexual thirsts, O God?
Adulteress in life, she turned, O lord!
poem by John Celes
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Weeping Widow
(robert wright)
Published by belwin mills, ltd. - ascap
Weeping widow, dont you cry
Dressed in black, I dont know why
All the time that youve been waiting
You should feel like celebrating
Hell make you free as a bird in the sky
Free as a bird in the sky
Look out stranger, here comes danger
Dont let it look you in the eye, boy
You better take care, you know youve got to beware
Dont let it look you in the eye, boy, weeping widow
Weeping widow, spend your leisure
In you castle full of pleasure
When his spirit comes to haunt you
In your chamber, he will taunt you
Hell make you free as a bird in the sky
Free as a bird in the sky
Look out stranger, here comes danger
Dont let it look you in the eye, boy
You better take care, you know youve got to beware
Dont let it look you in the eye, boy, weeping widow
Weeping widow, dont you cry
Dressed in black, I dont know why
All the time that youve been waiting
You should feel like celebrating
Weeping widow, you gotta run
Weeping widow, you better see whats in store
Weeping widow, you better run
song performed by by April Wine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A beautiful fun!
In a midnight,
I heard someone whispering,
sweet heart, come to me very close.
no, no, I won't do this.
O.K. I just go out!
Right now,
first, switch the light off.
Then room became dim-lighted.
I kept one of my eye on key-hole.
The scene was going heart-throbbing,
I couldn't keep watching too long.
O' shit!
I am a widow,
I have no right to pay attention,
towards the things of such type.
I have to live like a widow,
every desire, every wish,
is not for me.
I have to live without love.
I can't love any person.
because, I am a widow.
I have always to live
like a saint! like a nun!
What a beautiful fun! !
......................
poem by Sushil Kumar
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The 'Viduate Dame
'Tis the widow of Thomas Blythe,
And she goeth upon the spree,
And red are cheeks of the bystanders
For her acts are light and free.
In a seven-ounce costume
The widow of Thomas Blythe,
Y-perched high on the window ledge,
The difficult can-can tryeth.
Ten constables they essay
To bate the dame's halloing.
With the widow of Thomas Blythe
Their hands are overflowing,
And they cry: 'Call the National Guard
To quell this parlous muss-
For all of the widows of Thomas Blythe
Are upon the spree and us!'
O long shall the eerie tale be told
By that posse's surviving tithe;
And with tears bedewed he'll sing this rude
Ballad of the widow of Thomas Blythe.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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The Black Widow
These words he speaks are true
We're all humanary stew if
We don't pledge allegiance to
The Black Widow
The horror that he brings
The horror of his sting
The unholiest of kings
The Black Widow
Our minds will be his toy
And every girl and boy will learn to be employed by
The Black Widow
Love him
Yes we love him
Love him
Yes we love him
He sits upon his throne and picks at all the bones of his
Husbands and his
Wives he's devoured He stares with a gleam
With a laugh so obscene at the virgins and the children
He's deflowered
Love him
Yes we love him
Love him
Yes we love him
Love me
Yes we love him
Our thoughts are hot and crazed
Our brains are webbed in haze
Of mindless senseless daze
The Black Widow
These words he speaks are true
We're all humanary stew
If we don't pledge allegiance to
The Black Widow
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Be a bud anew
She stands over there a widow,
Aloof, like a barren meadow,
Having lost her stand and beauty,
And is flung to melancholy.
With the loss of solid mountain,
Went away the placid fountain,
Leaving abrupt her cup empty
Of love and sweet, once aplenty.
Her presence is now a bad omen.
Her sari, the rainbow, turned white.
She went graceless lest she must excite.
Is she lust-less, to be sexless?
Ere wedding, was there she alone;
Even now, as a widow, she’s alone.
Once a solitary mansion,
Now she is a lonely grave.
She is set to lament and mourn
Ever-long, without a happy end,
Though in no way can it lighten
The loss of her pair. Why, then, to pretend?
Which widow, save corrupt one, unwept
Over the fate to which she was put,
With choked lust having no outlet,
Other than duress she went through?
Youth in prime, charm is still unshed.
Lust to brim, thirst is still unfed.
Hard would be she to stay the wicked
Were she destined to never re-wed.
Women’s eyes upon her conduct,
Men’s spicy eyes upon her neglects,
If she is to rebel, men will spurn;
If she is to yield, men will ride.
There comes spring to trees, when leaf-less.
Also comes monsoon to grass, when list-less.
None comes to her, who went mate-less,
And was thrown an orphan, name-less.
When a pot is lost another is bought.
When a hut is lost one more is built.
While a mate is lost no one is sought
To tender her lust, otherwise a beast.
A widow is not a left-over,
As a poem read is not leftover.
A portrait is fresh to everyone.
A mother’s breast is alike to her next child.
She is unlike the one as had deserted
Her husband, as furtively flirted,
Or as had her child by him fostered:
A lived villa, not a spit apple.
Over years virgins married widowers.
Without tears they lived in fervour.
For her cheers, let her get the same favour
from a man of choice to restore her flavour.
No animals keep their spouses in widowhood.
Why is, then, this invention on womanhood?
She better be sanctified before having erred
So that she could lead a life, unblurred.
Let her wed, anew,
‘as though a rose shut
and be a bud, again’
11.11.97
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Claws loosening
One murdered a man
Who cuckolded him.
One murdered his spouse
To live with his paramour.
One murdered her spouse
To flee with her lover.
One murdered a widow
For her liaison with his father.
One murdered a man
For his affair with one’s widow mother.
Crimes of sex are not uncommon.
Why are they rampant now?
Claws loosened and instincts emboldened.
22.06.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Spider Slayer
She donned petite cover-alls of black
(To brave dark place 'neath the house)
When black widow walked 'cross her hand
Raised a ball-peen hammer, and...
The hapless widow she did whack!
'Take that you pesky louse'
poem by Ray Lucero
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The Horrible Scene
On their deaths lies 46 dreadful tales
From their blood emerged boiling ire of revenge
Eyes on fire, multiple grinding teeth of tigers
Hearts ripped apart from their lost of kin
Massacre covered the glowing day of dreams
Slugs litter, Blood scattered
Watered the land in red, painted the lane - departed
Some were buried alive, some were raped
All ruthlessly slayed, in the name of political reign
Is this how to win the power by exterminating your contender?
Justice to those victims of this horrible scene!
Justice scream to those Maguindanao Massacre victims!
Don't just stand there watching, do something to stop these killings!
We are begging......please be God fearing, those who are ruling!
We don't want these scenes, we don't want sufferings.....please stop slaying! ! !
25th 0f November,2009
Please pray for all the victims of these dreadful injustices happening around the world! ! !
Thanks and love to all of you.......
poem by Catrina Heart
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Widow’s Warf
She stood in black on Widow’s Warf
looking out at the cold sea;
eyes tested the horizon
for any ship she might see.
Her lover had sailed away
many years ago never to return.
News that his ship was lost
in some great storm
had drifted back through the years,
but no one really knew.
Now each day she dressed in black
and waited on Widow’s Warf,
always hoping and praying
for her lover to return.
24 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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Is this an omen of a senile wind?
My beloved became an infant
And crying in the cot.
I was the cruel day care teacher
Who changes her diaper.
And the next door widow strums her monotonous harp
Marco's yelp woke me up.
*She grumbles in the morning why I called the widow's name several times.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I did not want to make the widow record. I still haven't made the widow record.
quote by Courtney Love
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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