Antaeus: [A Fragment]
So neck to stubborn neck, and obstinate knee to knee,
Wrestled those two; and peerless Heracles
Could not prevail, nor get at any vantage…
So those huge hands that, small, had snapped great snakes,
Let slip the writhing of Antaeus' wrists:
Those hero's hands that wrenched the necks of bulls,
Now fumbled round the slim Antaeus' limbs,
Baffled. Then anger swelled in Heracles,
And terribly he grappled broader arms,
And yet more firmly fixed his grasped feet.
And up his back the muscles bulged and shone
Like climbing banks and domes of towering cloud.
And they who watched that wrestling say he laughed,
But no so loud as on Eurystheus of old.
poem by Wilfred Owen
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Chains On My Neck
Chains On My Neck
I’m black here I sit with chains on my neck
I’m beside other black men with chains on their necks
I’m waiting but while I wait my mind
takes me to my village
There, there is my home
I built it with my hands and my brothers hands
I built it with my sweat and pride
a very, very fine house indeed
But I am here sitting with chains on my neck
Beside other black men with chains on their necks
I see in my minds eye my fine house
I bring in furniture, built by my hands and my father’s hands
Strong furniture made with care from the best trees
But I am here sitting with chains on my neck
Beside other black men with chains on their necks
I see again in my minds eye my fine house
I bring in my spear, ax and shield
Deadly weapons to attack or defend
I mount them on the wall of my fine house
But I am sitting with chains on my neck
Beside me other black men with chains on their necks
I shake my chains and my house is on the other end of my chains.
Copyright 2005
poem by Watchful Steward
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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St. Anger
St anger 'round my neck
St anger 'round my neck
He never gets respect
St anger round my neck
You flush it out, you flush it out
St anger 'round my neck
You flush it out, you flush it out
He never gets respect
F**k it all and no regrets
I hit the lights on these darck aset
I need a voce to leat my self
To let my self go free
F**k it all and f**kin' no regerts
I hit the lights on these darck sets
Medallion noose, I hang myself
St anger 'round my neack
I feel my world shake
like an erth qake
It's hard to see clear
Is it Me? Is it fear
I'm madly in anger with you
And i want my anger to be heathy
And i want my anger just for me
And i need my anger not to control
And i want my anger to be me
and i need to set my anger free
SET IT FREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Was Not... When I Purchased
I, in front of beautiful shop
Surrounded by a friend's call
Came to purchase
With all my motivating will.
Searching for purchasing center
With my hands on nearby shoulders
Seeing friends' face fixed near me
Seem to be sown together.
Went inside and saw it
Suspected for comfort
Went near with my friends
Touched and checked its toughness.
It's long as giraffe's neck
It's slim as flamingo's neck
It had four legs as alien
It had a bend like duck's neck.
It's colored blue as sky
It's striped as zebra
I saw it and began to cry
But it seemed to be lending hands to try.
I took it to be my friend and tried
And moved my legs to take a step
Both of my friends' shoulders moved away
And said with care' hold the stick properly'.
I was not happy when I purchased
Anyway got third leg to walk forward.
poem by JothiLakshmi Kannan
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The Ranchers Ride That Was Given
I fell like a horse that
has just been let in the stall for the night
as day turns to dusk
my limbs are week
eye lids are getting heavy
as I wipe the sweat from my eyes
my horse comes running up to me signaling
he wants me to come ride
I only have ten bails left
why not take a break
I jumped onto his back
instantly feeling the massive creatures
huge muscles
underneath my body
I grab his mane
off we go
floating in the wind
like a butterfly on a
beautiful July morning
racing up and down
hills
throw meadows
and streams
just letting him take me away
he slows down
I grab around his neck
for I know what he’s going to do
sure enough he stops
get’s on both knee’s
lets me down to the ground
as I lay there barley awake
he lay next to me
as if he was to guard me while I sleep
he’s only a horse
I’m only a person
his name is Bandit
mine is Becca
but he is my guardian angel
and I’m just the keeper
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Up To My Neck In You
Well Ive been up to my neck in trouble
Up to my neck in strife
Up to my neck in misery
For most of my life
Ive been a fool
And you know what a fool can do
Im telling you
You came along when I needed you
Now Im up, Im up to my neck in you
And Ive been up to my neck in pleasure
Up to my neck in pain
Ive been up to my neck on the railroad track
Waitin for the train
To cruise on through
Well baby my time is due
Oh its way overdue
You came along and you pulled me through
Now Im up, up to my neck in you
Well Ive been up to my neck in whiskey
Ive been up to my neck in wine
Ive been up to my neck in wishing
That this neck wasnt mine
I was a loser
You werent lost
Baby you were too good, too good to be true
What youve got no one else could do
Now Im up, Im up to my neck in you
Yeah you came along when I needed you
Oh Im up to my neck in you
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dead Men's Love
There was a damned successful Poet;
There was a Woman like the Sun.
And they were dead. They did not know it.
They did not know their time was done.
They did not know his hymns
Were silence; and her limbs,
That had served Love so well,
Dust, and a filthy smell.
And so one day, as ever of old,
Hands out, they hurried, knee to knee;
On fire to cling and kiss and hold
And, in the other's eyes, to see
Each his own tiny face,
And in that long embrace
Feel lip and breast grow warm
To breast and lip and arm.
So knee to knee they sped again,
And laugh to laugh they ran, I'm told,
Across the streets of Hell . . .
And then
They suddenly felt the wind blow cold,
And knew, so closely pressed,
Chill air on lip and breast,
And, with a sick surprise,
The emptiness of eyes.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1911)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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If I Could Turn Back The Hand Of Time
How did I ever let you slip away
Never knowing I'd be singing this song some day
And now I'm sinking, sinking to rise no more
Ever since you closed the door
[1] - If I could turn, turn back the hands of time
Then my darlin' you'd still be mine
If I could turn, turn back the hands of time
Then darlin' you, you'd still be mine
Funny, funny how time goes by
And blessings are missed in the wink of an eye
Why oh why oh why should one have to go on suffering
When every day I pray please come back to me
[Repeat 1]
And you had enough love for the both of us
But I, I, I did you wrong, I admit I did
But now I'm facing the rest of my life alone, whoa
[Repeat 1]
I'd never hurt you (If I could turn back)
Never do you wrong (If I could turn back)
And never leave your side (If I could turn back)
If I could turn back the hands
There'd be nothing I wouldn't do for you
(If I could turn back)
Forever honest and true to you
(If I could turn back)
If you accept me back in your heart, I love you
(If I could turn back the hands)
(If I could turn back)
That would be my will
(If I could turn back)
Darlin' I'm begging you to take me by the hands
(If I could turn back the hands)
I'm going down, yes I am
(If I could turn back)
Down on my bended knee, yeah
(If I could turn back)
And I'm gonna be right there until you return to me
(If I could turn back the hands)
(If I could turn back)
If I could just turn back that little clock on the wall
(If I could turn back)
Then I'd come to realize how much I love you
Love you love you love you
(If I could turn back the hands)
song performed by by R. Kelly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Burning Down
]from the back of my neck, oh oh oh
Wired a glass jaw, oh oh
Plantation burning your boat is coming in
Strum your jews-harp, youre reeking gin
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
Johnny mike is reading in the yard
His storys timely, oh oh oh
What river is it anyway, radio
Not in a boat, in your ear
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
You pick your island in the sun
Take your island off hes got a gun
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
Hes cooking in the woods, a brush fire in your neck
Feeling mighty mighty, oh oh oh
You can pick your island in the sun
Take your island off hes got a gun
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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May I Not Weep With You
Let me come in where you sit weeping—aye,
Let me, who have not any child to die,
Weep with you for the little one whose love
I have known nothing of.
The little arms that slowly, slowly loosed
Then- pressure round your neck—the hands you vised
To kiss—such arms—such hands—I never knew,
May I not weep with you?
Fain would I be of service—say something
Between the tears, that would be comforting,
But Oh! so sadder than yourself am I,
Who have not any child to die!
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Hero?
Hail great hero!
Hero brave!
We praise you hero!
I your slave
Now duly fall
On giving knee
In hero worship
Unto thee!
Now did you hero save our globe
When draped in classic hero’s robe?
And did it flow as reddened blood
As battles raged in fields of mud?
Oh hero tell me of your fame:
Were writhing serpents fair your game?
Did you pierce the dragon’s heart
Intrepid hero; play the part
When Tyrant slain in hero’s fight
On quaking ground thro’ battle’s might?
And did you hero conquer evil -
Waste the minions of the devil?
Oh valiant hero, does your armour
Gleam from ventures steeped in valour?
Your sword oh hero, sparks a glint
From charging steel to give the hint
Of what great chapters Hero's Tome
Might tell to us when heroes roam
Through lands of yore when goblins vile
Sought a chance to kill for bile.
Oh hail thy hero,
Hero tall!
Bless you hero,
As I fall
In blushing shame,
I speak to me…
This mirror aids to fantasise
That I be hero worldly wise,
But meek and mild is all I am:
Hero naught; unbridled scam.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Hero hero hero hero
Hero hero hero hero
Hero hero hero hero
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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The Mother's Prayer
This was my little son
Who leapt and laughed on my knee:
Body we made with love,
Soul made with love by Thee.
This was the mystery
In which I worshipped Thy grace;
This was the sign to me -
The unveiling of Thy face . . .
This, that lies under Thy skies
Naked as on that day
When the floor of heaven gave way
And the glory of God shone through,
When the world was made new
And Thy word was made flesh for me . . .
He lies there, bare to Thy skies,
O Lord God, see!
Body that was in mine
A secret, sacred spell,
Little hands I have kissed
Trampled by beasts in Hell . . .
Growing beauty and grace . . .
Oh, head that lay on my bosom . . .
Broken, battered, shattered . . .
Body that grew like a blossom!
All that was promised me
On my life's royal day.
Every promise broken -
Only a ghost, and clay!
O God, I kneel at Thy feet;
I lay my hands in Thine:
Thou gavest Thy Son for the world,
And shall I not give mine?
Only--O God, have pity!
All my defences are down:
God, I accept the Cross,
Let HIM have the Crown!
By all that my love has borne,
By all that all mothers bear,
By the infinite patient anguish,
By the never-ceasing prayer,
By the thoughts that cut like a living knife,
By the tears that are never dry,
Take what he died to win You -
God, take Your victory!
We have watched on till the light burned low,
And watched the dawn awake;
We have lived hardly and hardly fared
For our sons' sake.
All that was good in Thy earth,
All that taught us of Heaven,
All that we had in the world
We have given.
We pray with empty hands
And hearts that are stiff with pain.
O God! O God! O God!
Let the sacrifice not be vain.
This is his blood, Lord, see!
His blood that was shed for Thee;
Thy banner is dyed in that red tide
Lord, take Thy victory!
God! give Thine angels power
To fight as he fought,
To scatter the hosts of evil,
To bring their boastings to naught -
Gabriel with trumpet of battle . . .
Michael, who wields Thy sword . . .
Breathe Thou Thy spirit upon them,
Put forth Thy strength, O Lord.
See, Lord, this is his body,
Broken for Thee, for Thee . . .
My son, my little son,
Who leapt and laughed on my knee.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Trust In You!
my dark side of the moon
i'll try to teach you
because i need you too seek
so, i take your hands and watering with
my lips and saliva
i feel your pulse speedy
i softly and reach your neck
and then seal my kiss
and take your hands
firmly holding my
and i come and goes
i give and received
my hands and kisses
my body...
in the dark side of the moon
poem by Mirna Morgan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee
Indian legislation's on the desk of the do right congressman
Now he don't know much about the issues so he picks up the phone
And asks the advice of the senator out in indian country
A darling of the energy companies their ripping off
What's left of the reservation
I learned the safety rule
I don't know who to thank
Don't stand between the reservation
And the corporate bank
They're sending federal tanks
It isn't nice but it's reality
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Deep in the earth
I said cover me with pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
They got these energy companies
Who want to take the land
And they got churches by the dozens
Trying to guide our hands
And turn our mother earth
Over to pollution war and greed
Well
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
I said deep in the earth
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Won't you cover me with your pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
They got the federal marshalls
We get the covert spies
We get the liars by fire
We get the fbi
They lie in court and get nailed
And still leonard peltier goes off to jail
(the bullets don't match the gun)
Bury my heart at wounded knee
An eighth of the reservation
Bury my heart at wounded knee
It was transferred in secret
Bury my heart at wounded knee
We got your murder and intimidation
Bury my heart at wounded knee
My girlfriend anna may
Talked about uranium
Her head was full of bullets
And her body dumped
The fbi cut off her hands
And told us she died of exposure
Yeah right
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Oh deep in the earth
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Won't you cover me with pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Talk about a revolution
We had the gold rush wars
Why didn't we learn to crawl?
And now our history gets written in a liar's scrawl
They tell me " honey you can still be an indian
Down at the y on saturday night''
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
I said deep in the earth
Bury my heart at wounded knee
And cover me with your pretty lies
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart at wounded knee
Bury my heart
It was an eighth of the reservation
Bury my heart
It was transferred in secret
Bury my heart
Got your murder, murder, murder and intimidation
Bury me
Bury me
Bury me
Bury my heart
Bury my heart
Bury my heart
Bury my heart
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marching (As Seen From the Left File)
My eyes catch ruddy necks
Sturdily pressed back -
All a red brick moving glint.
Like flaming pendulums, hands
Swing across the khaki -
Mustard-coloured khaki -
To the automatic feet.
We husband the ancient glory
In these bared necks and hands.
Not broke is the forge of Mars;
But a subtler brain beats iron
To shoe the hoofs of death,
(Who paws dynamic air now).
Blind fingers loose an iron cloud
To rain immortal darkness
On strong eyes.
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I wish I could be somebody
I wish I could be somebody’s hero, someone who
People could admire. I wish I could be somebody
I never ask for much, I always am polite
But sometimes I don’t think people listen
When I speak or notice when I smile.
I wish I could be somebody’s hero even for
An hour or so, just to feel as if I had done
Something that was worth it all.
I always wanted to be strong, flex my muscles and
See the weakling run. I always wanted to
Be somebody who could always get the
Girl. I wish I could be somebody’s
Hero, someone who would save the world
I don’t want to fly like Superman or drive a
Fast car like Batman, I just want to do
Something that is worth it all.
I don’t want to be a hero suffering pain. I just
Want to be a hero without gain. I want
To be somebody who is looked upon as
More than a friend, more than a hero.
I wish I was a hero someone who gets
The girl, feel those arms around my neck
And soft lips brushing mine. I just
Want to be something that is worth it all.
I wish I could be somebody who knows what
Life is all about. I want to scream I want to shout
I want to be someone who the world talks
About. I just wish that I could be
Somebody, anybody but me. I wish I was a hero
To the girl in my dreams, I wish she could
Be the reason for my being somebody
Who does something that is worth it all.
©Steve Gregory/Celtic Fish 2000
poem by Steve Gregory
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It’s the second day that I visit
It’s the second day that I visit
on the farm near Reivelo,
just past Vryburg.
They farm with cattle, goats,
a few sheep, muscovy ducks, turkeys
and chicken.
The scrambler bumps up and down
right through the field
and go past rocks and bushes,
while we drive along the rough field
and the hot wind
cut across my face
and there are places
where it cannot go.
It’s time to transform
young bulls to oxen,
to brand cattle
and to cut their horns
and I get a black stallion
to ride into the field.
My cousin rides in front
with a brown Arabian mare
and there are bushes
and flat slabs of rock
and small hillocks that we past
to try and round up young cattle
to the corral.
It’s nice to be a cattle herder
for a time
and to use legs and heels
and reigns,
to round up cattle in the field.
Every thing goes well until
I chase a young black bull
just to the entrance of the fold,
where it stops stubbornly
and doesn’t want to move
a feet further.
I jump out of the saddle,
fasten the reigns
to a small branch
and rush to the obstinate bull.
It stands and snorting
and stamp its feet
and when it sees me,
it rushes confused
at the horse.
That faithful horse stands firm
while the bulls horns swishes
onto the reigns
and the horse
stops that bull in its tracts,
that a piece of the bridle
breaks right off.
Then I am at the bull
and pull the reigns
out of its horns
and it walks meek
into the corral,
while in astonishment
I stand and look at that animal.
With a knee-strap
and pliers in the nose
we draw the bull to the ground
and when we shear it,
it moans like a heifer
and there’s a burning smell
that goes up from the branding iron
and I see the horns
dropp at my feet
and it’s another beast
when it stand on its feet.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm The Pied Piper
As soon as he turned it on
The wind outside of his room
Stirred up for a few seconds
He thought to himself
"i'll climb out my window
And go sit out there with my radio"
Out the window he went
Sitting against a small stump
Behind some flowerbeds
The light from his bedroom window he could still see
The music of bach was playing
After a while it began to sound distant
As the young prince gazed at this radio on his knee
The music was floating away from his hearing
What could be happening
He took it off of his knee
And put the radio to his ear
Nothing happened
Then the transistor left his hands
And was floating in the mid-air
Two feet off the ground
As the prince laughed
It suddenly turned around
And it was light green phosphourous in color
Dancing back and forth
The magic transistor
Started moving down his path
He could hear the sound out
Like nothing he had ever heard before
The trees were getting closer together
And flowers glowed with tinges of magic light
As he followed thinking to himself
"what's going on?"
The transistor lifted slowly
Up to the top of a little tree
And sat there
While it slowly became louder
To where the prince could hear it clearly
Fireflies shot across the path in front of the prince
He turned around and couldn't see the light from his window
There he was watching all alone all by himself
He got a hunch to get back to his room
And he turned and ran right back
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mexican Sunrise
I was watching the sunrise
In Mexico when my horse died beneath me.
I was in Diez Coronas,
On the edge of a cliff,
With only my horse for company.
Stars were scattered across the
Palette of the sky,
Colored silver on indigo.
Past the edge of the cliff
Lay nothing but sandstone and a
Hundred feet of empty air.
My horse whickered and
Pawed the ground impatiently.
I could feel his muscles bulge and relax,
Eager to get on with our journey.
As the sky started to lighten,
I checked my pocket-watch:
Twenty-seven minutes past five.
Just a few more minutes.
Great Kiskadees awoke and
Started to sing from
Unseen nests in the few trees
Around me.
In the distance,
I heard the wildlife stirring,
Getting ready for the new day.
I didn’t even hear a warning growl.
I’ll never know if there was one.
With a feline-like snarl,
A brown and black blur
Snapped at my horse’s legs.
The horse reared,
It’s eyes wide with terror.
I struggled to get my feet
Out of the stirrups.
The bobcat turned back for my horse
And pounced.
I fell from my horse as
The bobcat dug into
Its throat.
I watched as my horse fell
With blood pouring from
Its neck,
His eyes white and wide,
The pupils rolling into his skull.
On my knees,
I reached down into
My leather holster,
Fingers wrapping around cold steel.
I pulled the Colt free,
Its chamber loaded with
Six chances of death,
Each encased in copper.
I cocked back the hammer,
Squeezed the trigger.
The bobcat fell back
From the force of the shot.
I got up and walked towards the dying animal.
It gave cries of pain,
Cries of agony.
“Mercy” is what those cries told me.
“End my suffering, ” they said.
So I did.
The bobcat’s head exploded
In blood and brains.
After it stopped twitching,
I grabbed my knife
And cut into the animal.
As the sun began to rise behind me
In the east,
I cut off the fur,
Gutted it for meat,
And wrenched its fang from the gumline.
Now,
Here I stand in Mexico
With people staring at me funny,
And no wonder.
I’m a gringo with a bobcat’s fang
Hanging around my neck,
Trying to sell a bit of bloodied fur.
But I don’t care.
I need the money.
I need another horse.
You Are The Cloud
the water droplets in you
the dusts in your hands and feet
you carry them
up with your wings to the heavens
there is pain
and disgust on your neck and
ribs
to those who see when you hang in there
lifelessly
you are a reddish cloud
as beautiful as a bouquet of roses
against a desert sky
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Journey Discovered
He sat back watched and laughed
As the “Son of God” was persecuted
he sat back watched and laughed
As the “Son of God” quietly disputed
he sat back watched and laughed
As the “Son of God” was beat and spit on
He still did not budge, (Jesus)
he sat back watched and laughed
As the “Son of God” was nailed, torn, and stripped of His clothes
to end with a body full of holes
if only he knew
that it wasn’t through
the “Son of God” came to do what God had Him to do
save me and you
from the end
He bared our sins
sitting on His throne
Satan lost his grin
his world will soon come to an end
Orlando,8/2/09
poem by Priscilla Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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