Humanity In Tragedy - Haiti - Earthquake-January 2010
Sadness weighs heavily upon my heart,
Human tragedy, devastating loss of life;
A struggling nation where poverty is an epidemic,
They faced the wrath of nature yet again.
Haiti, land of sunshine and misery,
Where the rich thrive, and the poor perish.
Mother Earth drew a deep breath,
And as she exhaled, a shuddering groan
Shook all that lay against her bosom.
There was no anger in her deed.
She did not intend to destroy.
Calamity was beyond her control.
With the very earth shaking beneath their feet,
There was nowhere to run.
Palaces and shanties alike reduced to rubble,
Entombing those who could not escape.
Cries from beneath mountains of stone,
Echo through the streets.
Helpless, they weep for those they cannot reach.
Battered and beaten, they are defeated.
They hold the loved ones they can,
And grieve for those that are lost.
Now the wealthy and poor are united at last,
For there is no discrimination when catastrophe strikes.
But out of the destruction, hope will rise,
Like the brilliant sunshine that warms
Their beloved country.
Nations will join together to assist them.
For we hear their cries, and our hearts weep,
We will take their hands and hold them tightly,
Comfort them, and lift them from the dust.
Sometimes I question,
Whether compassion for humanity still exists,
Then at times like this, I see it
In all its splendour!
And my faith is restored once more.
poem by Annabel Sheila
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Lest We Forget
As earth roars beneath our feet there’s no place to hide.
Buildings fly and people cry with death on every side.
Dust and rubble now smother everything we see,
Though once again we refuse to be slaves of tragedy.
Nature stole our buildings; it can never take our pride.
Sights, sounds and smells choke senses on every side.
Too long a people subject to every unjust indiscretion;
Help us raise our heads…each a proud, renewed Haitian.
Rich neighbors thrive only a few miles away,
But for us time seems to have held centuries at bay.
Even before this rumbling tore our country apart,
Scourges of thirst and hunger left many a heavy heart.
To lift our spirits as we have done often before,
Mid this maudlin mirage where we’ll never really be poor,
We sing and we chant knowing God will help us carry on.
We thank him for what’s given, not what lament what is gone.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Tour Of Heaven
he took me on a tour of heaven
just so that i could see.
what the future would now hold for me.
he allowed me to look down upon the earth
with all its aches and pains.
he said: this is why i took you
for an angel you will be.
to help relieve the world
of all this misery.
i walked throughout the heavens
in total amazement and awe.
the poor, the sick, the rich and famous
all this is what i saw.
there was so many colors
more than this earth could ever see.
flowers of every nature, and the buzzing
of all the bees.
every type of animal that
we've seen upon the earth
walking amongst the people
and not looking to hurt.
you could walk up to any animal
and pet and play with them
for they are there for you
and want to be your friend.
i did not want to leave there
but there was a job he said
i must do.
to join all the other angels
and to show mankind
that there is an escape
if you take the time.
then GOD gave me my wings
and he set me free
to touch the hearts
of all humanity.
poem by Louis Rams
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Peace on Earth
Peace on earth not by chance,
Let faith love and charity
Spread the desire to melt the ethnic stance.
Hold hands together we are all the same,
Hold hands together we are all to blame.
You can feel it in the global heartbeat,
As you hold a babies hand
You can see it in a child’s eye,
As it reflects pure faith in its protected land.
You can see it in a dropp of rain
As it splashes on the growing grain.
Hold hands together you Muslims and Jews,
Hold hands together you Christians and Catholics.
All you Hutu’s and Tutsi, Sunni and Shiites,
Asian and African come on, come on,
Join the bands, hold your hands.
Don’t let the human’s race to destroy this place.
Hold hands together we are all the same
Peace on earth it can be done,
For our divine kingdom come.
Hold hands together we are all to blame,
Hold hands together as we are one,
Then thy will be done
By Christ, Mohammed, Budda and
The Rising Sun
Amen.
poem by Ken e Hall
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New movement
I can't believe! ! England,
For poverty how can She stands.
The land of liberty and dignity,
Where are identity and humanity?
The poor become poorer,
the rich become richer.
Oh bad capitalization is in top of civilization,
Allah helps the poor in every nation.
If the poverty were a man, i 'd kill
Omar 's dictum curing for the ill.
The rich must help the poor
To have no envy, make the heart pure.
We respect you! ! England,
Rising humanity, you put a hand.
We don't go to the black ages,
when people put in cages,
Where they escape in caves.
We are at the era of enlightenment,
The revolutions are everywhere in new movement.
poem by khaled Elbalishy
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God Himself Cries
Joseph Manduke Poems
Poetry and thoughts written after 1956
Friday, July 18,2008
God himself Cries
When love is true and lost the universe itself weeps
God himself cries when love is lost
Love is not contained
Galaxies weep when true love is lost
Nay, clusters of galaxies stop turning in infinity when love dies
God cries
The creator's heart itself, the infinite word
the power of creation that is love, waits
Takes pause in the tear
takes a moment from the foundation itself of all life and all hope
God sheds a tear
Such breaks the heart of the creator
When love is not preserved
Creation itself blinks out of reality,
And a moment is lost as God weeps for the loss of Love so precious
God himself cries
When Love is lost
Love is the creative force itself.
All is about love
God cries when love is unpure.
Creation stops and waits and takes a moment to mourn the lost lovers dream.
Preserve your Love.
Save the tears of God.
Sing a praise to having known true Love.
In the act of will that breaks a heart.
God cries.
Eternity wains under the creator's sadness
And we lose touch of precious binds to creation itself.
We lose our life and our fragile hold on humanity.
When love is lost,
Hope is lost,
Peace is lost,
And God cries
poem by Joseph Manduke
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Cry my beloved SOUTH AFRICA
Cry My Beloved Country
When Tragedy Strikes
When Sorrow Prevails
And NATURE Smite you So Hard
All Bowing Heads
Be yourself to the Rest of us
My beloved Country 'South Africa'
Don't compromise with NAGATIVE thoughts
By allowing anger to rule you
And your Emotions to control you
Stay stable and Positive
Smile when you meet ultimate challenges
To make you STRONG
Don't Rebuke Innocent dust
And Hold your CRASHES on sun
A Joy of mankind is KIND
Be yourself to the rest of us
My beloved country 'South Africa'
I know you will make it
poem by Jacques Sprenkie Mateya
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No Access To Fast Food, Branded Clothes And
The creation of nations,
that have passion,
for money and power,
is the absolute poverty.
Not having the access,
to shelter, food and clothing,
to have a healthy living.
Fifteen percent Americans,
fall under poverty line,
and they earn,
less than,
ONLY 22K American dollar,
per year.
In other parts of the world,
people live,
in appropriate poverty,
and they live on,
2 dollars a day,
six hundred dollars a year,
five people can eat,
have shelter and simple clothing,
still they are healthy.
slim and fit.
Europeans are clever,
to make the people to believe,
that they are poor,
earning only 800 Euro a month,
Which is above,
the average annual income,
of many developing nations,
where people have,
no access to any wealth and health.
All of us stay in the same earth,
but the value of properties,
and the rental acquired,
through the properties,
differ substantially.
Politicians of the poor nations,
have abysmal knowledge on economics.
To be a rich nation,
we should have values,
but these clowns are short sighted,
to look at the value,
of their own properties!
Do not say that they are poor,
because the term poor itself,
will be ashamed,
for using its credibility,
for wrong purpose.
Please do not call them poor,
when the nations are able to provide them,
the food, shelter and health care.
Find a suitable word,
and leave the poor alone,
who have no access,
to any of these comforts on their own,
and their nations,
are unable to provide them,
the access to the comfort.
Reason for writing this poem.
The feelings of the poor are the same through out the world, irrespective of the countries that they are staying, but the proper definition for poverty should be clarified before classifying the people as poor, which means the poor of one country may be considered as the rich in another country. Then what is the real meaning for poverty?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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John Mitchel
I.
DEAD, with his harness on him:
Rigid and cold and white,
Marking the place of the vanguard
Still in the ancient fight.
The climber dead on the hill-side,
Before the height is won:
The workman dead on the building,
Before the work is done!
O, for a tongue to utter
The words that should be said—
Of his worth that was silver, living,
That is gold and jasper, dead!
Dead—but the death was fitting:
His life, to the latest breath,
Was poured like wax on the chart of right,
And is sealed by the stamp of Death!
Dead—but the end was fitting:
First in the ranks he led;
And he marks the height of his nation's gain,
As he lies in his harness—dead!
II.
Weep for him, Ireland—mother lonely;
Weep for the son w'ho died for thee.
Wayward he was, but he loved thee only,
Loyal and fearless as son could be.
Weep for him, Ireland—sorrowing nation
Faithful to all who are true to thee:
Never a son in thy desolation
Had holier love for thy cause than he.
Sons of the Old Land, mark the story—
Mother and son in the final test:
Weeping she sits in her darkened glory,
Holding her dead to her stricken breast.
Only the dead on her knees are lying—
Ah, poor mother beneath the cross!
Strength is won by the constant trying,
Crowns are gemmed by the tears of loss!
Sons of the Old Land, mark the story—
Mother and son to each other true:
She called, and he answered, old and hoary,
And gave her his life as a man should do.
She may weep—but for us no weeping:
Tears are vain till the work is done;
Tears for her—but for us the keeping
Our hearts as true as her faithful son.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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From Poverty To a Throne
I held on to my dreams and sanity
Even when kindness was never shown
Because I had a feeling deep down in my bones
That God can take anyone from poverty to a Throne.
When you are poor and hungry it's hard to go on
And you can't get help from a bank or loan
There were many times when I was treated wrong
But my faith in God remained strong.
Keep your eyes focused on the Lord and him alone
He hear our cries when we weep and moan.
We can call him at midnight or the break of dawn
He will help you when everyone else is gone.
I've found this out since I have been grown
That God loves to make Himself known
He has promised me a mansion of my own
God can take anyone from poverty to a throne
.
poem by Mary Bowman
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Weep Not For Him That Dieth
I.
WEEP not for him that dieth--
For he sleeps, and is at rest;
And the couch whereon he lieth
Is the green earth's quiet breast:
But weep for him who pineth
On a far land's hateful shore,
Who wearily declineth
Where ye see his face no more!
II.
Weep not for him that dieth,
For friends are round his bed,
And many a young lip sigheth
When they name the early dead;
But weep for him that liveth
Where none will know or care,
When the groan his faint heart giveth
Is the last sigh of despair.
III.
Weep not for him that dieth,
For his struggling soul is free,
And the world from which it flieth
Is a world of misery;
But weep for him that weareth
The captive's galling chain:
To the agony he beareth,
Death were but little pain.
IV.
Weep not for him that dieth,
For he hath ceased from tears,
And a voice to his replieth
Which he hath not heard for years;
But weep for him who weepeth
On that cold land's cruel shore--
Blest, blest is he that sleepeth,--
Weep for the dead no more!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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To Donneen
When first you came to London Town, Donneen,
Just five years old,
I said—'He'll ask for marble halls, and streets
All paved with gold!'
I thought—'He'll weep, so stricken with amaze,
To hear the roar
Of trampling hoofs, of rushing feet that go
Our way before.'
I said—'He'll fear the throbbing engine's shriek,
The shaking path,
The pushing crowd, the city's comrade cries
Of joy, of wrath.'
And when we stood to hear the mighty heart
Of London Town,
I saw your angry cheek and knew a tear
Had threatened down.
'Why weep,' I whispered by your red gold head,
'Dearest of boys?'
'I cannot hear my new shoes creak,' you said,
'There is such noise.'
Oh, creak, dear shoes, above the city's roar;
Be heard, be seen,
So hearts grow glad, hands clap, and voices cry,
'Here comes Donneen!'
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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Why Tell Me About It I know All Too Well
Why tell me about It I know all too well
That many are living in their Earthly Hell
The hungry the homeless the poor and downtrod
They must be the children of some Lesser God.
Why tell me about it I know for the have nots life must seem unfair
So many grow poorer for every new millionaire
The scourge of poverty rife in every Race
In a fair Human World this would not be the case.
Even in so called wealthy Nations poverty does abound
Not too far from where the rich live the homeless to be found
The streets of the poor suburb a breeding ground for crime
Where many don't live to enjoy their life's prime.
Why tell me about it of course I'm aware
That the poor of the World have never been rare
And millions are living in dire poverty
In a fair Human World this would never be.
poem by Francis Duggan
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You Are The Mother Beneath Our Wings Dedicated to my mother who thought she had nothing to give-but gave the wisest things!
You are the mother beneath our wings, born into poverty brought us the
wealth of many kings, When you art young and don't have anything, you rely on
your Mother to give you everything, For a poor mother who had nothing you gave the
wisest things, You are the Mother beneath our wings.
Being poor was a rich experience for us and heartbreaking for you
You planted many seeds and nourished your ten kids needs
You gave us the wealth of may kings-coming from poverty taught us many things
The way you loved your life, being the kissin' bandit's wife
We were dirt poor, but it wasn't all bad
If material wealth as all we had-We wouldn't appreciate life and be thankful for what
we have. What you gave was unique, prized above material things
To each child special gifts you did bring
We were never too poor to give something-when you think you can't give nothing
You van give the wisest things-The love you gave will be treasured more than anything
When the trumpet blows and you rise up to meet your king
REMEMBER the lilies blooming in spring and that you gave your best in EVERYTHING!
poem by Miriam McKee
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What If
I can't find the rhyme in all my reason
Lost sense of time and all seasons
Feel I've been beaten down
By the words of men who have no grounds
Can't sleep beneath the trees of wisdom
When your ax has cut the roots that feed them
Forked tongues in bitter mouths
Can drive a man to bleed from inside out
What if you did?
What if you lied?
What if I avenge?
What if eye for an eye?
I've seen the wicked fruit of your vine
Destroy the man who lacks a strong mind
Human pride sings a vengeful song
Inspired by the times you've been walked on
My stage is shared by many millions
Who lift their hands up high because they feel this
We are one We are strong
The more you hold us down the more we press on
What if you did?
What if you lied?
What if I avenge?
What if eye for an eye?
[Guitar Break]
I know I can't hold the hate inside my mind
'Cause what consumes your thoughts controls your life
So I'll just ask a question
A lonely simple question
I'll just ask one question
What if? What if?
What if? What if?
What If I?
What if? What if?
What if? What if?
What If I?
What if? What if?
What if? What if?
What If I?
What if? What if?
What if? What if?
What If I?
What if you did?
What if you lied?
What if I avenge?
What if eye for an eye?
What if your words could be judged like a crime?
What if? What if?
What if? What if?
What If I?
What if? What if?
What if? What if?
What If I?
What if? What if?
What if? What if?
What If I?
What if? What if?
What if? What if?
What If I?
song performed by by Creed from Human Clay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Sit Beneath This Tree
I sit beneath this tree,
Bared beneath the moon,
I'm touched by it's coolness,
I'm loved by it's light,
I sit beneath the tree,
The world can see my scars,
The hollow where my heart layed,
And where my soul escaped,
Then in my hand the dagger,
In your hands my heart,
As it quickly slows,
The necklace round my throat,
Slowly drips down my chest,
I sit beneath this tree,
As you hold onto my hand,
My soul it tries to fly,
With wongs broken from guilt,
I sit upon the earth,
As you hold my hands and plea,
Plea for my forgiveness,
Before the darkness takes control,
Plea for my love,
Before I journey to my grave,
I sit beneath this tree,
As you pain my death,
With your guilt and no forgiveness,
I sit beneath this tree,
As my soul it walks away,
Towards loved gates of Hell.
poem by Holly Heron
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Poverty In The 21st Century
It’s the 21st century
The media displays it day and night,
Poverty.
Poverty across the globe lies
Poverty cries out from the belly of little boys
Little girls, parents too
Desperately searching for food,
Shelter, clothing, for love,
Companion, for attention
Those with plenty, refuse
To amend, a world haunted by
Poverty.
Is poverty affecting the rich?
Are their poverty the same
As the poor in financial constrains?
For they, too, poverty of love
I see poverty in the learned
I see poverty in those whose
Selfish acts are destroying society.
I see poverty in all level of humanity
The world is still an imperfect place
Yet life is still beautiful, the wind
Blows, we see it not, give thanks
For what you possess, now go,
Help if you can along the way,
Help to eradicate poverty
In your surrounding, widen
Your boundary across your
Country, to nations of the world.
Help to fight poverty, now!
poem by Winston Harding
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Disasters
Disasters strike upon the land, some by God and some by man.
The disasters of a natural force, they come from God of course.
Some however are wicked plans, found in the evil heart of man.
Both will have the same result, moving men into deeper thought.
At times a quiet earth may quake, leaving destruction in its wake.
Such times are the finger of God, touching the earth that we trod.
Disasters will strike any nation, leaving behind much devastation.
Such disasters are truly unkind, leaving pain and suffering behind.
Many people escape the wrath, being far from the disasters path.
But it should not be ignored, as they need to reflect on The Lord.
Many disasters sure to come, were predicted by God’s own Son.
Some by God are meant to be, signs pointing all men to Eternity.
Others simply have their start, in man’s wicked deceptive heart,
Hearts, by Christ, we were told, in the end would only grow cold.
But all the tragedy soon will end, when to the earth Christ is sent.
Man has become so depraved, without Christ none will be saved.
Even the earth groans in pain, eager to be purged from sin’s stain.
As tragic as these disasters are, the end will be much worse by far.
For during the Great Tribulation, wrath will pour upon every nation.
As God’s final Judgment’s poured, on all men who reject The Lord.
09/2005)
A hymn
Omnicient and eternal God,
Who hear'st the faintest pray'r
Distinct as Hallelujahs loud,
Which round thee hymned are.
Here, far from all the world retir'd,
I humbly bow the knee,
And wish, (as I have long desir'd,)
An interest in thee.
But my revolting heart recedes
And rushes to the croud;
My passions stop their ears and lead,
Tho' conscience warns aloud.
How deeply sinful is my mind?
To every ill how prone?
How stubborn my dead heart I find
Insensible as stone?
The hardest marble yet will break,
Nor will resist the steel;
But neither wrath nor love can make
My flinty bosom feel.
My passions like a torrent roar,
And tumbling to hell's glooms
Sweep me away from Reason's shore,
To "where Hope never comes."
By labour turn'd the useless stream
Thro' fertile vales has play'd;
But for to change the course of sin
Demands immortal aid.
All nature pays the homage due
To the supremely blest;
All but the favour'd being who
Was plac'd above the rest.
He bids the teeming earth to bear,
The blushing flow'rs arise;
At his command the sun appears
And warms the orient skies.
Oh! was I but some plant or star,
I might obey him too;
Nor longer with the Being war,
From whom my breath I drew.
Change me, oh God! with ardent cries
I'll venture to thy seat;
And if I perish; hell must rise
And tear me from thy feet.
poem by Ann Eliza Bleecker from The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Natural Force
The earth shrugs
and beneath the sea
mountains lift shifting waves
driving man
to higher
planes.
Primal force defines
the earth
as we are defined
by the rise and fall
of breath.
Yet contented we live
by the constant sea
as darker oceans
roil deep
beneath our feet,
and transfixed
we gaze as eternal waves,
pounding thrusting stones,
shatter to frothy foam.
No wonder, then,
when deeper lungs exhale,
in terror we flee,
and cry to God
for mercy.
poem by Steven Federle
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Sonnet: Death Comes Like A Thief
Death claims much souls regardless of their age
Or sex, community or nation, state;
An act of God, man, Nature none can gauge,
That brings both high and low to the same fate.
The earthquake razes many to the ground,
Buried alive under tons of rubble;
Many will die; their bodies can’t be found;
The lucky few escape despite trouble.
How people fight over a piece of land!
Can they not live with love and amity?
What can they do ‘gainst Nature’s cruel hand?
Helpless is man in such calamity.
Man, listen thy earthly life shall perish;
Renew thy ties with God; be less selfish.
30-1-2001
poem by John Celes
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