One Being Brought From Africa To America
'TWAS mercy brought me from my Pagan land,
Taught my benighted soul to understand
That there's a God, that there's a Saviour too:
Once I redemption neither sought now knew,
Some view our sable race with scornful eye,
'Their colour is a diabolic die.'
Remember, Christians, Negroes, black as Cain,
May be refin'd, and join th' angelic train.
poem by Phillis Wheatley
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On Being Brought from Africa to America
'Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land,
Taught my benighted soul to understand
That there's a God, that there's a Saviour too:
Once I redemption neither sought nor knew.
Some view our sable race with scornful eye,
"Their colour is a diabolic die."
Remember, Christians, Negro's, black as Cain,
May be refin'd, and join th' angelic train.
poem by Phillis Wheatley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On being Brought from Africa to America
the sea and the sky help express
a cherished freedom
the courageous eagles
span their wings to measure
smitting us with their breathless flights
the sea and sky reflect to us the
freedom that holds the dreams of
us all, black or white, yellow or brown
of love, things wordly or spiritual
the whiteness of clouds
is hailed by the bright yellow
glare of sun that distils and brings
forth rain to replenish our land
the black of nights
is hailed by glitters of
stars that inspire dreams
for all of us to strive for a better world
a freedom spreads clear as night and day
distinct as black or white
the sky holds it up and
the sea roars in approval
all the way from africa to america
inspired by
Phillis Wheatley 's
On being Brought from Africa to America
'Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land,
Taught my benighted soul to understand
That there's a God, that there's a Saviour too:
Once I redemption neither sought nor knew.
Some view our sable race with scornful eye,
'Their colour is a diabolic die.'
Remember, Christians, Negro's, black as Cain,
May be refin'd, and join th' angelic train.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A Pagan Place
How did he come here?
Who gave him the key?
Slipped it in his hand
So secretly
And who put the colour
Like lines on his face?
Brought him here
To a pagan place
Now who shot his arrow?
How high did it fly?
When he tipped it with poison
Did he even know why?
What unseen hand
Brought him face to face to face to face with
All this and more
In a pagan place?
Come into my parlour
Sail in at my shore
Drink my soul dry
There is always more
There is always more after now
Fly on my carpet
Look into my face
See the heart of man
In a pagan
In a pagan
In a pagan
In a pagan
In a pagan
Pagan...
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To the University of Cambridge
While an intrinsic ardor prompts to write,
The muses promise to assist my pen;
'Twas not long since I left my native shore
The land of errors, and Egyptian gloom:
Father of mercy, 'twas thy gracious hand
Brought me in safety from those dark abodes.
Students, to you 'tis giv'n to scan the heights
Above, to traverse the ethereal space,
And mark the systems of revolving worlds.
Still more, ye sons of science ye receive
The blissful news by messengers from heav'n,
How Jesus' blood for your redemption flows.
See him with hands out-stretcht upon the cross;
Immense compassion in his bosom glows;
He hears revilers, nor resents their scorn:
What matchless mercy in the Son of God!
When the whole human race by sin had fall'n,
He deign'd to die that they might rise again,
And share with him in the sublimest skies,
Life without death, and glory without end.
Improve your privileges while they stay,
Ye pupils, and each hour redeem, that bears
Or good or bad report of you to heav'n.
Let sin, that baneful evil to the soul,
By you be shun'd, nor once remit your guard;
Suppress the deadly serpent in its egg.
Ye blooming plants of human race divine,
An Ethiop tells you 'tis your greatest foe;
Its transient sweetness turns to endless pain,
And in immense perdition sinks the soul.
poem by Phillis Wheatley
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Poor Boy Blues
by Bob Dylan
Mm, tell mama,
Where'd ya sleep last night?
Cain't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
Hey, tell me baby,
What's the matter here?
Cain't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
Hey, stop you ol' train,
Let a poor boy ride.
Cain't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
Hey, Mister Bartender,
I swear I'm not too young.
Cain't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
Blow your whistle, policeman,
My poor feet are trained to run.
Cain't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
Long-distance operator,
I hear this poor call is on the house.
Cain't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
Ashes and diamonds,
The diff'rence I cain't see.
Cain't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
Mister Judge and Jury,
Cain't you see the shape I'm in?
Don't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
Mississippi River,
You a-runnin' too fast for me.
Cain't ya hear me cryin'?
Hm, hm, hm.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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5. Sports Day
I remember our school sports day
Where we all went out to race
I remember jumping in a sack
And falling on my face
I remember someone calling out
Next race is starting soon
I remember running down the field
With a stupid egg and spoon
I remember throwing beanbags
At a circle on the floor
I remember not being very good
But going back for more
I remember coloured sashes
And I wore the colour green
I remember what we won that day
Wasn’t easy to be seen
I remember looking at the score
We were still at the beginning
I remember what our teacher said
It’s the taking part not the winning
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Born Under A Star
Do you remember the story, of the Bethlehem Star
There in that land long ago, and so very far
I know it is hard for us to see
To fathom or even believe
But do you remember, that day, there at Gethsemane
There at that place, for you and even me
Oh...Ohoo... And then, there again, at Calvary
There his life, for me and even thee
Now can we understand about that shining bright light
That glorious birth, for us to remember, for ever that night
Now you know why, His birth under a star
Our Saviour sacrificed, gave us everything, from that land afar
The Prince of Peace, taught how to love
Remember, to forgive, and how to pray, to Father above
His promised love
Has broken the chains, that surround our hearts
Love and tears and then floods, began to start
Washing, burning relif, for our souls
His promised love, made us completely whole
His promised love, has carried us just so far
Giving us love, and everything, even yet
Born in a manger, under that star
poem by Clyde Bryson
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Proud Pagan
Sky clad we dance the circle round.
Sing hymns of praise to Mother Moon.
The sacred grove was filled with sound
as we gave thanks for good fortune.
We harm no one, this is our law
but rather helped all whom we could.
We are well versed in herbal lore.
because Goddess ruled that we should,
The Christians came and tried by force
to make us change our allegiance
With dire penalties of course
if we refused obedience.
We quickly learnt how to deceive
the foreign priests, seem to obey.
But secretly we still believe
and worship in the age old way.
The Christians may rule the land
but can’t command our loyalty.
We know they do not understand.
They will not change us easily.
The old religion did not die
although the Christians thought it would.
The Goddess’ symbol in the sky
made certain that it never could..
So we still worshipped secretly
Still sky clad danced beneath the moon.
Pretending Christianity
but dancing to an older tune.
Although this happened long ago
The goddess rules us still today.
Deep in their hearts the faithful know.
The old way is a better way.
Today we worship openly
as we have every right to do.
Protected constitutionally
we need not hide from public view.
We face no persecution
except from fundamentalists.
Bigots of all religions,
who show that hatred still persists.
We do our best to do no harm
to anyone in any way.
Though some still view us with alarm
This is still true I’m sad to say.
I am a pagan proud to be.
A family tradition
I try to follow faithfully
the laws of my religion.
14-Mar-09
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Land Of Edgar Allan
Remember The Raven?
We do around here.
The Domino too, upon sunset appears.
A fallen man's point.
An introvert's harbor.
Twas the land of Edgar Allan.
Need I say more?
E'er fouls, walks, run.
Not Edgar's Raven, the orange and black one.
Black-eyed Susan's - my back yard.
The dock of the bay - my front door.
Twas the land of Edgar Allan, hon
E'er, I say more.
St. Mark's Day
Oh! who shall dare in this frail scene
On holiest happiest thoughts to lean,
On Friendship, Kindred, or on Love?
Since not Apostles' hands can clasp
Each other in so firm a grasp
But they shall change and variance prove.
Yet deem not, on such parting sad
Shall dawn no welcome dear and glad:
Divided in their earthly race,
Together at the glorious goal,
Each leading many a rescued soul,
The faithful champions shall embrace.
For e'en as those mysterious Four,
Who the bright whirling wheels upbore
By Chebar in the fiery blast.
So, on their tasks of love and praise
This saints of God their several ways
Right onward speed, yet join at last.
And sometimes e'en beneath the moon
The Saviour gives a gracious boon,
When reconciled Christians meet,
And face to face, and heart to heart,
High thoughts of holy love impart
In silence meek, or converse sweet.
Companion of the Saints! 'twas thine
To taste that drop of peace divine,
When the great soldier of thy Lord
Called thee to take his last farewell,
Teaching the Church with joy to tell
The story of your love restored.
O then the glory and the bliss,
When all that pained or seemed amiss
Shall melt with earth and sin away!
When saints beneath their Saviour's eye,
Filled with each other's company,
Shall spend in love th' eternal day!
poem by John Keble
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The Fruit That Ate Itself
Take a drive in the wrong hand lane
Got bad breath talking bout fresh rain
my hand my hand gonna shake the same
are you gonna be your own goddamn best friend
well we taught the fruit how to eat itself
it was hanging out alone all on the shelf
how do I land
cause I don't understand
walk across the country shaking many hands
and you're buying the product,
but you didn't get that cos you already got it
and you do not understand
take a drive...
black hole talking bout nothing
you cant get the chicken or the stuffing
going round and you think your tuff
when you cant kick ass
take a ride on a downtown train
wake-up so you can get drunk again well
take a drive in the wrong hand lane
got bad breath talking bout fresh rain
we taught the mirror how to admire itself
are you gonna get sick worrying bout your health
where do I land
I don't understand
song performed by by Modest Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pulse Of The Maggots
This is the year where hope fails you
The test subjects run the experiment
And the bastard you know is the hero you hate
But cohesion, it's possible if we try
There's no reason, there's no lesson, no time like the present
Tell me right now, what have you got to lose?
What have you got to lose, except your soul?
Who's with us?
I fight for the unconventional
I'm right, and it's unconditional
I can only be as real as I can
The disadvantages, i never knew the plan
This isn't just a way to be a martyr
I can't walk alone any longer
I fight for the ones who can't fight
And if I lose, at least I tried!
(We) We are the new diabolic
(We) We are the bitter bucolic
If I have to give my life, you can have it
(We) We are the pulse of the maggots!
I won't be the inconsequential
I won't be the wasted potential
I can make it as severe as I can
Until you realize youll never take a stand
It isn't just a one sided virgin
We dealt with a manic subversion
I won't let the truth be perverted
And I will leave another victim deserted
(We) We are the new diabolic
(We) We are the bitter bucolic
If I have to give my life, you can have it
(We) We are the pulse of the maggots!
Do you understand? Yes!
Say it again, say it again! (We won't die)
We fight so no one can fight us
We live and no one can stop us
We pull when we push too far
And the advantages, the bottom line is
We never had to fight in the first place
We yell it, and just spit back in their face
We won't walk alone any longer
What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger
(We) We are the new diabolic
(We) We are the bitter bucolic
If I have to give my life, you can have it
(We) We are the pulse of the maggots!
Do you understand? Yes!
Say it again, say it again! (We won't die)
song performed by by Slipknot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red Is The Blood We Bleed
It is a very natural thing for one to love their Land of birth
And think that their Homeland Country is the finest Land on Earth
In his Lay of the last Minstrel Walter Scott said it all
Often with tears the migrant the old Homeland recall.
But when we feel that our race is superior it is there the wrong come in
Though we never hear of a war on racism a war we well might win
As racism can lead to war it is a moral sin
For those who feel that they have the right to judge you by the colour of your skin.
The National flags in the wind on the flag posts wave on War Memorial day
As we remember those who fought and died in past wars fought far away
Of war heroes and war victories we may feel proud to brag
But is it the war dead we respect or the colour of our National flag?
The war dead we commemorate died for justice, peace and liberty
But many in the World of today know of oppression and live in abject poverty
If the war dead could only speak many of them well might say
We would not fight a war again were we living today?
It is a very natural thing for to love one's own Homeland
And the nostalgic tears of ageing migrants are not hard to understand
But feelings of superiority of race to war can often lead
And we may be black or brown or white but red is the blood we bleed.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Train
Writers: leo sayer & david courtney
Running through my life
Like a river, like a song
Train keeps pushing me
Right back to the place where I belong...
Back along the tracks
Fly a million years
Right across my path
Train moves on ringing in my ears...
Come on board
Come on board
Train, oh train, take me back, again
I remember, I remember, take me back
Train, oh train, the journey ends and starts again
I remember, I remember, I remember
Ive been up all night trying to get this down
Now Im hallucinating
Staring at the wall look what Im creating...
Look at the clock Im twelve hours old
So many more remain
Way up ahead I know I see a train...
Come on board
Come on board
Train, oh train, all those memories, all over again
I remember, I remember, take me back
Train, oh train, the journey ends and starts again
I remember, I remember, I remember
Waited on the station all day
Just to see a glimpse of the morning train
Just to see the wheels turning round
Blowing up steam,
See what I mean,
You see what I mean...
song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fruit That Ate Itself
Take a drive in the wrong hand lane
Got bad breath talking bout fresh rain
My hand my hand gonna shake the same
Are you gonna be your own goddamn best friend
Well we taught the fruit how to eat itself
It was hanging out alone all on the shelf
How do I land
Cause I dont understand
Walk across the country shaking many hands
And youre buying the product,
But you didnt get that cos you already got it
And you do not understand
Take a drive...
Black hole talking bout nothing
You cant get the chicken or the stuffing
Going round and you think your tuff
When you cant kick ass
Take a ride on a downtown train
Wake-up so you can get drunk again well
Take a drive in the wrong hand lane
Got bad breath talking bout fresh rain
We taught the mirror how to admire itself
Are you gonna get sick worrying bout your health
Where do I land
I dont understand
song performed by by Modest Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Crum Appointment
You, no doubt, have heard the story told of Charleston by the sea,
How they persecute a Negro when a man he tries to be,
'Tis of national importance and the world enjoys the sport,
Caused by William Crum's appointment as collector of the port.
When the president decided to appoint him to the place,
Then a train of opposition from the city set apace,
'Our objection to a Negro,' said the whites, 'has ever been,
That we fear contamination from the color of his skin.'
This the president dishonored, then they brought another plea,
'To the great and grand old party, he has faithless proved to be,'
Crum his loyalty established and the fallacy declared,
Brought McComas to his rescue and the prejudice was bared.
To the friends within the senate they directed their appeal,
To defeat his confirmation and suppress a Negro's weal,
For a time the plan succeeded, thus a vote was thwarted twice—
He was promptly re-appointed till the same was numbered thrice.
Then they tried intimidation, told him how the race would lose
All the favors of the white man, and between these he must choose,
They persuaded and they threatened, aye, the Southern press was wild,
In denouncing such an outrage, how the city was defiled!
He with patience bore their envy, heard the clamor and the din,
Ev'ry accusation answered, save the color of his skin,
As a pillar of Gibraltar, he in firmness took a stand,
Braved the storm of opposition like a Moses of the land.
When at length he was commissioned, great, indeed, the city's change,
'Twas a hundred, aye, and fifty that applied for work! how strange!
'Twas the very class of people that his color filled with dread
Who then asked for sub-positions, though a Negro man was head.
Then a telegram was brought him saying, salary was paid,
To no one who was appointed when the senate gave no aid,
Equal to the dire occasion, he made answer, ''Tis no test,
Till the government shall warn me I'll take chances with the rest.'
Now contamination's mountain sinks away to common dust,
They are not afraid of Negroes but desire the place of trust,
They want Negroes to be servants and their bosses to be white,
Prejudice distorts their visions and they cannot see the right.
poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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The Great Mercy
Betwixt the saddle and the ground
Was mercy sought and mercy found.
Yea, in the twinkling of an eye,
He cried; and Thou hast heard his cry.
Between the bullet and its mark
Thy face made morning in his dark.
And while the shell sang on its path
Thou hast run, Thou hast run, preventing death.
Thou hast run before and reached the goal,
Gathered to Thee the unhoused soul.
Thou art not bound by Time or Space:
So fast Death runs : Thou hast won the race.
Thou hast said to beaten Death: Go tell
Of victories thou once hadst. All's well!
Death, here none die but thee and Sin
Now the great days of Life begin.
And to the Soul: This day I rise
And thee with Me to Paradise.
Betwixt the saddle and the ground
Was Mercy sought and Mercy found.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Gazing suicide
I went to the train tracks.
I sat on the bridge above.
My life has beaten me.
As I looked down below me.
I saw the tracks before my eyes.
So shiny and black.
My troubles.
My hurt.
And years of pain.
They had gotten the better of me.
It all became clear and I knew what I had to do.
I had to join the train tracks below me
I had to die
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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... The electoral franchise has been conferred upon the Negroes in almost all the states in which slavery has been abolished, but if they come forward to vote, their lives are in danger... The same schools do not receive the children of the black and of the European. In the theaters gold cannot procure a seat for the servile race beside their former masters in the hospitals they lie apart... Not only is slavery prohibited in Ohio, but no free Negroes are allowed to enter the territory of that state or to hold property in it.
quote by Alexis de Tocqueville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those of us who were brought up as Christians and have lost our faith have retained the sense of sin without the saving belief in redemption. This poisons our thought and so paralyses us in action.
quote by Cyril Connolly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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