Once Were Warriors

you used to cover the walls
with pictures of times long past &
between the wooden frames
there was no breathing space
for the present & the future —
but in your eyes
neither the stone grey of perseverance
nor the creeping chill of stale memories

What We Fail To Learn…

Two households, both alike in dignity
nemesis, blood feud of old
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
in our mother’s womb we battle
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
prejudice, evil’s spawn blurs our sight
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
forces hands to do its bidding.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
we are equal; our hearts all follow the creator’s drums
A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life,
but fall victim to hatred, passed on through the ages
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
unmoved; set in crumbling stone
Doth with their death bury their parents’ strife.
a thousand deaths won’t make the frenzied eye see ~
The fearful passage of their death-marked love
so we tread; siblings’ blood drowns sacred ground
And the continuance of their parents’ rage,
wrath and envy still on the march;
Which, but their children’s end, naught could remove,
deaths have no meaning, but to grace the news
Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage—
stupidity’s tragedy limps through the ages
The which, if you with patient ears attend,
and we remain deaf, dumb and blind ~
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.
what Shakespeare uncovered, our deeds still antagonize in blood. 

Today, Anna over at dVerse Poets Pub invites us to write Postmodern Poetry. She provided this wonderful list of Bernadette Mayer’s Writing Experiments which we are allowed to choose from. I chose: “Type out a Shakespeare sonnet or other poem you would like to learn about/imitate double-spaced on a page. Rewrite it in between the lines.”
I’ve always been fascinated by Shakespeare’s Prologue to Romeo & Juliet… so I took it, fiddled with it a bit and the above is what came out of me (by now you know that I did not end up imitating it.). Hope you enjoy… Come meet us at the Bar!


When Innocence Averts Her Eyes

when innocence averts her eyes
the ghost of war is on the prowl
it taunts; it shatters loving bones
stench in its wake, rotten and foul

the rivers red and bled to death
when innocence averts her eyes,
when tortured soul claws at the sky
humanity limps, in disguise

to children’s wails and ripping guns
destruction’s horrid fist does rule
when innocence averts her eyes
hope lost – abandoned; fallen fool

we only see when we don’t run
so easy to ignore the cries
turn off the TV, go to sleep…
and innocence averts her eyes.


The Face of War (Salvador Dalí)

Gay over at dVerse Poets Pub has us experimenting with a French form of poetry – the Quatern. Not that easy to build, but I tried… this is what I came up with. Come join us at the bar!

photo credits: google image search

The Face of War

Opposing countrymen drawn to the field
each fighter clenching his gun
soldiers stand, silent and still
sweat beading from the midday sun

lust for battle, as demanded
screeching cold engulfs their hearts
icy stares; warped inner turmoil
and the sanity departs

Weapons raised against their brethren
Silence fills this place of war
Eyes fixed, downward the barrel
Death awaits, victory, and lore

to the call for death and glory
thunder bellows, born from steel
doom engraved in every bullet
forcing lives to bend and kneel

Powder and smoke fill the air
As the charging masses collide
Ground stained, the stench of iron
Fighting to turn the tide

determination; will takes over
bayonets drink up the Red
corpses mingle with the living
victory not far ahead

Flags wrap the fallen bodies
Deafened ears are absent to sound
Farmers that worked the nearby fields
Are gently placed in the ground

lives for justice, lives for freedom
a foundation built on deaths
those who fought will be remembered
those who paid with their last breaths.

a late night/early morning duet by Adam S. and myself. let’s see if you can find out who wrote which parts…


the leader’s frown
leech-shaped tongue, frozen
to enemy’s chest;
the once so keen hand
now wrapped in linen,
last command
in branded throat.


one more lash
targets the bleeding back
skin peels away
to reveal steel underneath

the fiery eyes
burn brighter –
burn with purpose
after each strike
meant to cripple and singe

stumbling through rubble
fighting with
broken teeth and infected nails
as long as feet may carry
as long as spirit prevails

to the end of corruption,
to the dawn
of mankind!

this one is about the Civil War in Syria – following dVerse‘s rebellious call…

The Sacrifice

the soldier he fell
to his knees and he screamed
clutching the dirt in his fist

his eyes gaping holes
burnt and blistered each day
from horrors, never meant to exist

empty shell of a friend
all marred and charred
glowing ashes, next to his form

he dared not to look
for the pain was too great
the aftermath, a raging cold storm

so he steeled his mind
and cut out his heart
to bury it, there in the ground

he covered it up
and then got to his feet
to face the next demon, no sound

The Riders of Fate

thundering hooves
on the battlefield
announced their presence

the warriors
fighting with
raw steel and willpower
roared at the sky
in the face
of the enemy
for they knew
the Valkyries
would lead
the most fearless,
the most honorable
to the halls
of Valhalla.

they had nothing to lose
and watched
the fierce and beautiful
harbingers of death
draw closer

and in the heat of battle
they did
what they
had come for.

Coming Home

they asked for it
but you could never obey
to their wishes.

steel yourself, they said
but how (?)
could you avoid
seeing the maimed carcasses
paving your way?

when you returned
you were empty
and it wasn’t your fault.

good intentions
turned to ash
on your tongue.
in your heart.
in your mind.
never should have.

a soldier’s burden.