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2011 Poetry Theme Challenges#04 Protesting Poetry |
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First of all I would like to say a huge thank you for your wonderful response to the love challenge
- even an old cynic like me is convinced rommance still exists. Part of me wants to stay with love as
it is giving some wonderful reads on Tir but hey ho we must change I suppose so a totally different
direction for the pen. To me one of the bonuses to being a writer is being able to voice my opinion and state my beliefs. Not just on a religious footing but as some may know I am an old campaigner for equal rights for a certain grouping of society. Now we all have things we want to shout out about whether it be green issues, injustice or unfair treatment at work. So here is your chance to step up on the poetic soap box and give a your piece of mind. Sock it to 'em poets! Happy Quilling Jem XXXX |
Protesting Poetry
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Divena CollinsOne evening in a supermarket When the store had just closed A bent cucumber wilted and soft Chats to another hard and posed. So sad when the store was empty The bent one was really depressed Nobody wanted a bent cucumber For a straight hard one was best. Consumers insist on a straight one The market garden must deliver Bent cucumbers were out if style And so they were all left to wither. "How can they make us straight Can`t they accept how we are," "It`s a secret " said his friend " If I tell. I`d be pickled in a jar." A tomato near by was blushing "We have the same problem too, Nobody wants us soft and round My friend she is square and new. She fits in a sandwich much better In neat squares of four by fours But when I split my skin to speak I was reduced to basket on floor." Why do consumers have rights Why do they complain at will One day they will have a suprise When they end up eating a pill."  ----- Dreamer Forever a dreamer I was at school Punished often for breaking a rule I did not hear what my tutor had said For I was lost in my dreams instead; `Twas then I suffered grief and pain Held out my hands for a belt yet again. Every day I was punished the same I lost once more with nothing to gain Why was I treated so cruel this way Why was I then just a creature of prey; I was filled with both dread and fears Unhappy I was with eyes full of tears. It had left a scar and I rebelled At times I wished to be expelled And escape from this den of eniquity To my haven of dreams and humanity A far cry from a life based on dread Images of precious dreams instead. I had known back then I was not alone So many others with problems unknown Two of them had once refused the belt It was taken to court, the hurt they felt; Images of dreams inspired their brain So they shall never be punished again.  ----- Paradise Lost What was once where ponies did graze Now the start of a developement maze Those meadows have gone now forever; Bricks and mortar were then built to last And that meadow shall now be the past. Why should beauty of nature they sever; Do they have to start yet another phase. Where cool streams of water once run thro' Why would they now want to spoil this view And run a pipeline underneath the ground; To build a long motorway over the stream And rob the proud villagers of their dream Protests ignored the plans were all sound; Goodbye to the old for something new. Houses are needed the developers say The country is old and has had it`s day While the land beneath is now in need You shall be moved to a high rise flat That they said would take care of that They, self riteously obsessed with greed While the aged shall be out of their way.  back to list |
Jem FarmerAn argument between poets exists as whether metric verse should still persist. The use of sound to bring a rhythmic beat each line in its own place must follow feet Accented meter poesy as art from this regime I will never depart. The words that form a most beautiful rose are never the same written as plain prose with iambic rhythm sonnets sing love as sweetly as the birds that fly above or starkly utter the most vibrant curse you simply cannot do that in free verse. back to list |
Ivor HoggShe’s young and pregnant and confused She’s well aware she has been used But she’s not sure what she should do. Her situation, nothing new. Men have their fun and then move on and leave the girls to face alone Decisions that they have to make. The consequence of their mistake. In taking men at face value. Not the wisest thing to do But she ignored all good advice. So now she has to pay the price. Be very careful what you do Remember this could have been you ----- I Refuse to be a Clone From birth to death it seems to me. That we are never truly free. To be what we would like to be. We are expected to conform to what’s accepted as the norm. Dictated by society . WE go to school where we are taught. To memorise the things we ought. But no one spares a single thought. About what we would like to be. They do not care apparently . We can’t escape too firmly caught. Though some of us a very few. Rebel and we refuse to do What the system wants us to. But most accept the status quo. Because they aren’t allowed to know. That they are entitled to pursue. Their cherished dreams in their own way and no one has the right to say. That they cannot but they will pay. The price for their rebellion against the states opinion. But some. still do it anyway. I’m happy to defy the state and take control of my own fate . Because I don’t appreciate being told I must obey When I can see a better way than that dictated by the state back to list |
Ryter RoethicleLook at you sitting in your steel walled office Looking out at the world through thick glass. The glass that isolates you from what you see The steel protecting you from your sins outside. You sit there wearing your stupid supercilious look Proud of your wealth, jealous of your power Your lack of understanding hidden by buzz words Prepared words, enunciated with rehearsed actions. You have got where you are, by others knowledge, And others cunning and stealth guiding your path. You’ve clawed your way upwards using these weapons But what have you learned except self satisfaction? Insular in your life, nonevents your creation Unable to move away and see the world around you. Emotions hidden and secret desires created by plastic The plastic of the false Gold of Oil or Mastercard. You have sold out people who depend on you For the greater good of you and yet you talk of God. You have sold your soul and still you talk of God And young men are dying every day because of you. And young women will also die because of you Their babies held to their breast in the purest of love And those babies will also die because of you Their lips around the nipple as they search for life. A life that you will not allow to grow; sitting there Insular in your steel walled soulless office Looking out at the world through thick glass. The glass isolating you from what you see The steel protecting you from your sins outside. Brick in the wall ----- Matrix I hear the harsh crying of life Above the whispers of the night The final flash of life beating upwards Or being dragged downwards Staring at the vastness of starlight And the lack of fulfilled promises Like precious china cups Shattering against the wall in Fates rage A satellite flashes overhead As I look into the darkness around And see a drunk vomit into the gutter His clothes smelling of faeces and urine A passing patrol car drives past the alley And in the spotlight they see a body The needle still hanging in a pock marked arm White flesh contrasting against the black floor. Crying with frustration I question the 2 million years of evolution And wonder about the creation Of this Simian Matrix. ----- Poets In days of old when men were bold And poetry had just been invented. Men roamed the land with lute in hand Spinning tales that made folks contented. But oftimes bastards from the bush Would try to gag each stalwart lad. For keeping people informed and sane Was considered by some to be bad. Each age that's been in countries seen The written word has been oppressed Religion has caused wisdom to be paused And politics caused it to be suppressed. But with each age in histories page One person has let people know it. His idealism has led revolutions That is your oftimes humble poet.  ----- Paparazzi A Tarantella upon the written word, Treadings once woven become a snare Creating in some a desire to lay bare Biased paragons of truth speak the absurd Catching the unwary in their vacant stare Hammering non essentials til they swear That black is white and always was preferred. Now games are crueller than realised in youth The innocent having to search for proof Media portrays the predator as the prey. Pursuit of lies, and none events occur Thus non justice cause the blameless suffer And read ignorance what the press portray Because the media bred all that is uncouth.  ----- Understand A warm blue sky puts man to shame That grey haze o’er the city he’s to blame, As his smoking chimneys pollute the air. To much to do, claiming too little time, Or nothing to do so turns to crime, And buys the drugs of "I don’t care" Then ecstasy takes on another name. The lack of discipline and responsibility Was the age that removed common sense All we learned previous became a pretence. Impractical people rule a committee Of academics without experience And usually in most cases no sense And no understanding of what should be.  ----- Unjust Thoughts Dark skies evoke a sense of melancholy Where no life has been allowed to play or folly Where are colours, the reds and browns of Autumn? Instead it is the overall scene of flooded brown O’er saturated land that wears a different gown Some greens previously had been unable to come Now all are welcome, but you need bring a brolly. With all this water for once we’re free from flame Nature in her desire to grow has made her claim And reclaiming her rights where ever she can. Man’s incidental, in the way, and pays the bill Where Nature fights against Mammon’s will Some set by nature in her heat, and some by man. But who causes it really, do you want a name? ----- War (After Gibran) And a widow said to him, "What of war?" And he replied "We are all tainted with the sin of Cain And that sin is still to be purged from us. The more civilized we become the more tainted also, For was not the sin of Cain a sin of greed and jealousy? Just a few generations apart are all that separate us. For we are all of us brothers and sisters The Blacks, the Browns, the Whites and the Yellows. Everyday we see little wars over rights Territorial forays expand a ground or lay claim to protect. In the end who has won and lost And what has been the cost? Sometimes a prophet appears and speaks the truth And once again chagrined we live and love as God planned. His message passed on by word of mouth and heresay But with time we forget and others less worthy speak Until in the end the message has been twisted and forgotten And this is how it all begins, The difference of a guided thought A disagreement takes place Pride overcomes commonsense And death occurs The sin of Cain claims another birthright?" back to list |
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