Standing up to injustice is the only solution

‘That you, in the dim coming times,
May know how my heart went with them
After the red-rose-bordered hem.’ —W.B. Yeats

The roads are littered with gold, they said
Hard work and belief in oneself if one possess
Enough to make a new life, they merrily proclaimed
Come one and come all, we will all progress

El Dorado it was not, didn’t matter to folks
A hard working lot, they not afraid to work
Melting pot of civilizations, they wrote the songs
Built roads to carry produce, beef and pork

New immigrants not like us, they say it’s wrong
Coming in hordes stealing our jobs and bread
Something is rotting in heaven, stench is strong
Skeletons brushed under the rug poking their head

Time to stand up, trouble brewing in the horizon
Standing up to injustice is the only solution


This poem is in response to Jane Dougherty’s A Month (November) with Yeats Challenge day Thirteen

 

 

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Sunset do not excite me anymore

Sunsets do not excite me anymore
As I sit by the sea looking over the horizon
Capturing the colorful hues most distant from my thoughts


Modern day electronic entrapments lying unused as
Creeping fingers of darkness ride the waves
Whitecaps no longer translucent
Ocean darkening does not reflect
Radiant colors of the sky subdued
The murmur of the gentle waves
Does not sing a song of rejuvenation
Melancholy reigns as darkness falls
Sunset is no longer a harbinger of night
To be followed by daybreak, as I
Hear the whisper of the hooded boatman
Ferrying the returning souls
It’s time to go home
Somewhere on the distant horizon
As the last ray of the setting sun
Slowly sinks into a bottomless pit
I see a beacon, a point of light
A flickering hope whispers
As the dark waves crash onto the shore
A tiny iridescence whispers in my ear
Somewhere it’s the beginning
It’s a new dawn
You have lost the path, but
The search is still on


This poem is in response to Jane Dougherty’s A Month (November) with Yeats Challenge day Four

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Write Anything Wednesday

Fight Another Day

A new year, new hope in the horizon
Resolutions do not matter
They are made to be broken
What matters most is the will to carry on
To pick up the broken pieces and move on
Everything may not have gone the way we wanted
But that’s how life usually is
Scars fester and are infertile
Need not carry those in our hearts
Analyzing and overanalyzing
Old ideas hibernating
What did not work, let’s throw those away
It’s time to come in from the cold
Reinvigorated, much still need to be done
Compromise does not mean defeat
It’s will to fight another day

 

Warning

Warning clouds rumble on the horizon
Anxious citizens play wait and see game
Rich are getting ready to get richer
Never in doubt about the outcome
Insecure dreamers dread doubtful future
Not knowing what will happen with their lives
Greed is getting ready to trump good for ever

Warning to all of us who chose to ignore
Are we now ready to pay the price
Risk of a nation divided by ugly vitriolics
Novelty of change will wear out soon
Immigrants are bad unless wives of POTUS elect
Narcissist nabob will make the people dance
Great hyperbole will trump common sense

Warning message to those who did not care
All’s not lost yet if you dare to oppose
Russian puppet shows ruining your life
Now is the time to come together
Insure that you won’t be rolled over
Need to be vigilant to preserve hard won rights
Get ready to trump their evil designs


Write Anything Wednesday

 

The Closed Window

All I ever wanted was a desk and a chair
By the window of a humble mountaintop lair
Eyes feasting on panoramic vistas open to distant horizon
A book in my hand opening the windows to the world beyond
Gentle wind caressing my hair, imaginations running wild
Aromas from a cup of tea wafting through the air
Turning the pages of the book illuminated by the morning sun
I reflect on what this life has become
Battered by thousand storms of unfulfilled expectations
Harsh realities pushing simple dream beyond recognition
Smiling face masking the ache of a heart silently weeping alone
Storm damaged window of a lonely heart shuttered long ago
Words on pages of this closed book are now meaningless
Fading light of the setting sun does not come through
The closed window anymore