Peace Poetry

Comment

Comment by Raven Cohan on September 8, 2009 at 7:16pm

The sensitive ones...
The artists, the ones who write poety and ARE poetry...
Need protect ourselves with proper thought...
We can be too vulnerable.
Our thinking must look dualistic-ally at what reality shows.
The news and views of war can stab us in the heart...

And quickly, like a martial artist, we must put up an armor
That neither stifles our soft natures, yet it doesn't
harden us against this seeming reality.

We need to understand that our poetry
Can vent the feelings of being stabbed to
The point of helplessness.

We need to feel the true nature of humanity
That well might not be seen enough from
The viewpoint of our enthused, hungry souls
That feel starved for a realistic world Peace...
Instead of just our, seemingly empty DREAMS
Of World PEACE....

We are creating world peace every time
We comfort each other.
Every time we type a word that soothes...
That smoothing is going into consciousness and
Melting a drop here and there, upon some of
The iron bars that hold the framework
Of our seemingly Real WARLIKE WORLD
In place. YES! We can MELT the bars with
Persistent LOVING WORDS!

WE THE ARTISTS need to keep putting it out
THERE... This beauty, light and love,
With no expectation.

This is medicine we offer and we
Need to take some of it for ourselves,
As well as handing it to every one else.

Comment by David Sparenberg on September 5, 2009 at 7:55am

BACH

What if
we set ourselves to move with Bach
like organ-clock or
flourished in the artful ragas of India
There is a style of complexity
that is as smooth as silken tapestry
And human sounds might
teach to angels a
music grace that
counters hate And we
to be that motion that
recreates the genius-complexity of wind and
ocean hallowed lifting
flesh to dance
our souls to harmony

Therein would end would surely end
anguish and the agony
suffering and the tyranny of war
No violence would from soundings such as this
be wrought No
further consequences sought -What
if
at close of day toward sojourn’s end
one sat to write within a
dairy’s treasured foliage on
yellowed-scarlet leaves of time
these words alone:
My life is as concerto – allegro allegretto
to adagio Or rag Or jazz
like Kara Johnstad’s Berlin Wall
as “Summer Knows”* and
I am morning’s violin
piano’s slow and wending curves
or evening sitar One
twilight that invites the light one
twilight ‘fore the blush of night one
sounding of love’s sacred heart One
organ-clock
…like JS Bach

David Sparenberg
4 September 2009

*”Summer Know” a recent recording by Jazz singer/songwriter Kara
Johnstad, who lives in Berlin and whose “Wall” is a wave of sound, not
cement, steel and wire to divide but vocals to carry the placard-songs
of a global invitation.

Comment by Michael Calkins(aka)LonelySoul on August 30, 2009 at 5:45pm

Hope is the light at the end of my tunnel
my soul reaches for that light
a life raft in a sea of darkness,
I hang on with every breath,every heartbeat
if only to watch another sunset in it's crimson glory...

Comment by David Gould on August 30, 2009 at 2:01am

With apologies to Alice Faye

"If in the search for peace we falter"
there is nothing I would alter
if it's real peace we're seeking
it is always there right within.

"For when the search becomes the game"
I wonder when a game it became.
for me the search is always real
even if to the heavens I appeal.

"If in the quest for peace we fail"
oh no we will prevail!
as I light the candle of hope
so as not in darkness to grope.

"If in the search for peace we find it
And all worlds can live as one"
then I know we all benefit
and our great work at last is done.

Comment by Michael Calkins(aka)LonelySoul on August 29, 2009 at 8:43pm

Alice Faye...
to respond to your poem...
Without ever knowing,are we coming or going,
if the search for truth and peace be our very quest,
we know we have to give it,only our very best,
live for love,love for life,if only to pass the test...
if you dream to save humanity,
please don't let it take your sanity,
the cycle of life is the eternity,
the test is the quest to do our best,
For Humanity to see the Eternity
not get lost in forgotten fantasy...
the Truth is Youth,for me and you,
before children lie,they'll tell it true,
boys get a lil bolder as they get a lil older,
and a girl won't listen,no matter what you told her...
Education is the tool so they don't just sit and drool,
or soak up the sun,have their fun,being lazy by the pool...
Before they know it,tuition has all been spent,
but now they think they can run the Government,
and parents wonder where all the money went...
Then the young ones are thinking,Maybe,
Yes,they can do it,so go have a Baby,
and they get laid off, or times get tough,
where will they get the money?
I know how it felt to tighten the belt,
Love will keep us Alive,won't it Honey?
The cycle of life keeps rolling on,
before you know it the years are gone,
so we get down on our knees,
asking God please give us Peace...
LonelySoul

Comment by bcb11 on August 29, 2009 at 6:38am

The stains

Wiping the surfaces of years spent, toiling the whims of others.
Billions of thoughts flying intwined, haunting vapors cruxify the living.
A stiffness in the air.
Wounds, they're rough spots left behind.
A delicate angel stirs the thoughts from inside the living.
Even though just a shell with holes of beaming light outpouring.

Comment by Raven Cohan on August 28, 2009 at 6:51pm

Gene and I went for a short hop
To visit Sea World- Orlando...
Arriving mid afternoon,
We went from attraction to attraction...
But the Number Uno of our first day was
To see the Wonderful Whales!
The Center of the Action!
What a delight to see the choreography...
To hear special songs, amazing video,
A Rock Show of whales with their
Terrific Trainers
Who train US to look with new eyes
To relationships amongst the species.
If Whales and Humans can tease and please
Each other so gently and with fun and fearlessness.
Can humans also do the same?
(To each other, with far less blame?)
Ten minutes into the show,
I was Hit with emotion and
Sobbing like a five year old who
Lost mom and dad...
But I was sobbing because I was so glad
I was in the midst of a lesson for us all.
About five minutes later,
I was hit with a wave...
Those whales use their tales
And throw water into the crowd.
Swamped with emotion and soaked
From Head to Toe...
There so no where to go
But UP!

Comment by David Sparenberg on August 25, 2009 at 6:03pm

NEW HORIZON

There is no time
For intellectual speculation;
There is no time for argument.
Does it have to be spelled out;
Does it even
Need to be spoken?
We both know what this is about.
The old ways—
Barriers of normalcy
The calculations
Limitations
The social boxes
Political baggage.
This is now!
The age of thresholds
Not of locks.
Do not continue
Contriving complications
Feigning deafness
As an exit.
The problem is here
Before our faces
Looking at us
In our ears.
As simple as this:
Either
We are strangers
On a dying planet
Enemies
In endless war
Or friends.
What do you say?
What is it going to be?
Do we have the courage
Humbly to become
The change we long for?
Or tell me this
—even if your heart is broken—
Is there a new horizon?
Is there another way?

David Sparenberg
22 August 2009

Comment by Raven Cohan on August 24, 2009 at 8:39pm

Doing something for myself to be more at peace,
To feel fresher and younger, is my WAY
My path is, unlike yours, or yours, or yours.
Nor is your way like mine...
How do we keep enthusiasm when outer world
Chimes it daily bonks on the head...
Not a sweet sound often,
but brassy, bold, biting, bitter
And who can help from hiding out?
I don't choose
To stop reading the news.
I translate the blues into pinks.
I breath more fully,
Stand up more straight.
So what if the results aren't always great.
I won't let myself disintegrate.
Here are my "paper and inks"!
The keys to my computer can be formed
Into poems...
Not necessary to make a masterpiece
To find peace.

Comment by David Gould on August 24, 2009 at 7:04pm

Old Age

I look in the mirror and wonder
who is this old man that stares
blankly back at me here?
Then I see the flicker of
a youth I used to be
something in the smile
of a young man trapped
in the aged body of mine.
I wonder if my doorbell
will sound again this week
or if the postman will have
time for a word or two,
then tears roll down my face
as all I see in the glass
is a wrinkled old man
that I think used to be me.

David © 1st October 2008

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