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APRIL WRITE 2013 – Day 7 – FREE VERSE

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freeverse sunday

Welcome to Day 7 of the April Write 2013: a new era begins

Today is: Free Verse Sunday
It means you can write a poem on whatever topic you want to except erotica.
Once again, today is a VERY special day. It’s the First of our Free Verse Sundays and it means you are allowed to write a poem on whatever topic you feel you need to explore. Or, you may choose to stick with the same theme that another person has shared for today.
If you have not yet been able to share a poem in our last 6 days, then today is your perfect opportunity. But remember, no erotic poetry today please.

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7 responses »

  1. Zita Holbourne © April 2013

    SHOULDN’T HAVE TO DIE FROM POVERTY

    Each day she dies a little more inside
    She’s given up on living – so so tired
    It was the ConDem coalition
    That put her in this position
    She had a good job, happy, enjoyed the work
    Never rich – public sector jobs don’t have perks
    But main thing was job security
    Enough money to raise her family
    Pay the rent and bills, clothe and feed
    Low paid but never one for greed
    The change came quickly and dramatically
    The attacks administered systematically
    As if to destroy in stages
    First they attacked her wages
    Costs went up but her pay was frozen
    Then for illness her job was taken
    Waiting for an ambulance she nearly died
    Local hospital shut down so a long drive
    Once the ambulance eventually did arrive
    They said it was a miracle she was alive
    Now they’ve said she can’t stay in her home
    Just because of a spare bedroom
    Never mind she’s been there 15 years
    Raised her children in it – no one cares
    Main concern now is when the next hot meal will come
    There’s nobody left to borrow money from
    Everyone else is hard up too
    Nothing left for her to do
    But wait for death to bring relief
    Don’t want the family to grieve
    Or to take out yet another payday loan
    To line the pockets of a funeral home
    Just put her in an unmarked paupers grave
    Wanted a funeral plan but too poor to save
    Now they’re cutting her benefits as well
    Nothing left of any value to pawn or sell
    Bills to pay, rent arrears and an empty fridge
    This is the reality of living on the edge
    And a reality for millions more
    Of Britain’s steadily increasing poor
    If we don’t stand up to the powers that be
    And fight back against them collectively
    It will be you next or me
    We shouldn’t have to die from poverty
    Need to recognise that we make up the majority
    And as such we have the ability
    To overcome if we act in unity
    We shouldn’t have to pay for a crisis we didn’t create
    People please wake up before it’s too late

    Zita Holbourne, Poet~Artist~Activist aprilwrite day 7

    A ‘paintoem’ i created to go with the poem https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=4681027505838&set=t.1298338363&type=3&theater

    Reply
  2. Donna Parkinson © April 2013

    Deadyouths@london.com

    Postcode poppin,
    Heart stopping,
    Another young life droppin,
    Brutha’s be hip hoppin,
    To the dead mans prom,
    Visiting deadyouths@london.com,
    And at the ripe old age of fifteen,
    They’re caught in between,
    A rock and a hard place,
    Living the inner city rat race,
    Reppin their endz on FaceBook and MySpace,
    When they only just learnt to tie their own shoelace,
    Bwoys walkin in big man shoes,
    Carryin big man news,
    Stepping with big man views,
    The bwoy dem so confused,
    Ego’s bruised,
    Minds abused,
    With the misconstrued,
    Thesis they have on life,
    Live by the gun or the knife,
    Fam, its all good,
    Rep your endz, support your hood,
    And die standing where your brutha before you stood,
    Same script, different cast,
    Babies growing up way to fast,
    Cards dealt by the dead hands of the past,
    Haunting the community,
    Granting diplomatic immunity,
    To the thugz,
    That peddle the drugz,
    To our kids,
    And you say that honour forbids,
    You from snitching,
    Yet your own fingers are itchin,
    To pull the trigger,
    You say that you had no father figure,
    And that life is too hard,
    You say you are scarred,
    By tribulations,
    Outweighed by societies expectations,
    And influenced by the Media’s publications,
    And that’s probably all true,
    But the answers are deeper within you,
    Buried, but long overdue,
    For reincarnation,
    The regeneration,
    Of a new population,
    Society’s very salvation,
    Is in your hands,
    Life is not about bussing name brands,
    Or breeding designer dogs for rank,
    It’s not about the Hennessey you drank,
    At last nights rave,
    It’s not about the status that you crave,
    Or the platinum bling,
    It’s not about the herb you shottin,
    Cos all of that is temporary,
    And your contemporary,
    Can take that away from you at any time,
    That kind of status comes a dime,
    A dozen, and fades just as fast,
    You need the kind of reputation that can last,
    One where your name is surpassed,
    By your education,
    Where knowledge acceleration,
    Is your only goal,
    Take control,
    Before its too late and some man drops a bomb,
    That sends you straight to deadyouths@london.com……


    HI GUYS NOT A NEW PIECE BY ANY MEANS BUT PROBABLY MY SIGNATURE PIECE… This piece really sums up why i write what i write when i write.. .. peace xx

    Reply
  3. Donna Parkinson © April 2013

    Laughing and Walking,
    Stepping and Talking,
    Weren’t looking where he was going,
    And without knowing,
    Bumped into some guy,
    With a deadly look in his eye…

    “What the f*** bruv? You can’t see?
    How ya gonna just bounce me?
    What.. is man blind?
    I’m here on my grind,
    And you just come and distress man,
    F***ing up my game plan,
    Like it aint shit fam,
    You got any idea who I f***ing am?”…

    “Sorry bruv I didn’t even see you,
    I’m just passing through,
    Should’ve been looking where I was going,
    But I was showing,
    My friend dis new game on my phone,
    We were just in the zone,
    Looking at the new modern combat,
    It was an accident blud, ‘low dat”…

    “Now ya taking man fi eeeddiat,
    There’s no way I’m gonna ‘low dat,
    Bruv, d’ya fink I am sum fool from your endz?
    Me and you aint no pussy claart friends?
    Show me da game you was playing,
    Bruv I aint saying,
    This s*** twice,
    Pass me da phone and everyting will be nice,
    Every actions got a price,
    And yours is about to pay,
    Bruv don’t f*** wit me today”…

    “I’m sorry man, but I can’t give you my phone,
    My mum bought this and she does fings on her own,
    Moneys really tight bruv… she would kill me,
    I said I was sorry.. I fink you should just chill ‘G’,
    This was just a misunderstanding, no harm done,
    Bruv.. me and my friend was just having some fun,
    I bounced you by accident and I said I was sorry fam,
    Come on bruv.. I’m gonna be late for my exam”…

    “Do I look like I give a s*** about your f***ing day?
    You come bounce me and f***ed up my play,
    I got shit to do and tings haf fi run,
    You slowed me down son,
    So for dat you have to pay…ya feel me?
    Bruv don’t p*** me off, this is what da deal be,
    Give me da phone and keep passing through,
    Otherwise I’m gonna cut you,
    Is dat clear bro?,
    Good …ya dun know”…

    “OK man I hear that.. but dis aint right,
    I didn’t bounce you looking for no fight,
    I’m just on my way to school..don’t want no beef,
    Bruv dis s*** aint fair I don’t need dis grief,
    It was an accident plain and simple.. dats it,
    I aint got time for this s***,
    Im going to School bruv dis s*** is dun,
    I aint the one”….

    He went to leave; tried to run past,
    But the other guy was way too fast,
    And he didn’t even see the shank,
    Until everything went blank…
    One minute he was laughing and walking
    Stepping and Talking,
    And not looking where he was going,
    Next minute his blood was flowing,
    All over the street,
    His life changed in a heartbeat,
    Another youth lost to the concrete…

    Sorry… i just wanted to drop this one too…as its recently written in the last 2 weeks and is like a narrative of what can happen straight out of the blue and is written in the turn of phrase that our younger generation can relate to..so excuse the language please!!

    Reply
  4. Halim Flowers (USA) © April 2013

    For Colored Girls

    Girls come in all colors
    Not just the colors of their skin
    Girls have different hues
    Beautiful ugly things they secure in.

    Some girls are insecure
    Concealing wounds that beat them blue
    Fists of an unfit lover
    Purple bruises within their souls too..

    Optimism inspires her smiles
    When little girls are still green
    Before colored girls become colored
    And the cruel world shatters their dreams…

    Some colored girls are white
    Some colored girls are brown
    Some colored girls still believe in love
    Some will never trust a sound….

    Men think colored girls are crazy
    Because they can’t grasp a colored girls pain
    Most men are too stupid to know
    That verbal/emotional/physical abuse is all the same…..

    Colored girls cry a lot
    Because colored girls are not numb
    They are alive to all the chauvinistic stereotypes
    That little boys use to make them feel dumb……

    Some colored girls see all black
    They think it would be better if they were dead
    Some blossomed prematurely by trusted molesting hands
    So some see raging red…….

    They portray colored girls as mean and vicious
    Due to their ignorance of her hurt
    So they keep saying she’s crazy
    Just to neglect the gray tears on her shirt……..

    Halim A. Flowers
    Copyright 2013

    Reply
  5. Katie Rendon © April 2013

    Halim A Flowers, beautiful piece that speaks to me.

    I’m going to follow your lead by replying with a poem that I recently had published in Soul Vomit: Beating Domestic Violence. What She is Worth

    He says he values her.
    He picks the gold dust from
    every chamber of her heart,
    leaving no silver lining.
    Bankrupts every branch of
    her olive bearing gestures.
    He bounces every
    check she balances.
    He treasures her.
    He picks diamonds
    from her tears
    and rubies from
    busted, bleeding lips.
    He mines sapphires
    with the back of his hand.
    Leaves emeralds at the mouth
    of cavernous eyes.
    He needs her.
    He harvests her every grain,
    slurps the last drops
    from her reservoir,
    gorges himself on the fruits
    of her labour,
    reaping everything
    she sows.
    He needs her.
    He sucks the air
    from her lungs,
    plants his seeds
    into her womb.
    She sustains him,
    though he will never comprehend,
    what she is worth.

    Reply
  6. Alicia Patterson © April 2013

    Blocked?

    I can’t believe it.
    Where are the words I’m normally breathing?
    The words that give me life
    That give me strength.
    The phrases of my soul that give me reason.

    I just can’t find them.Are they trapped in my cerebral?
    Waiting to be be transmitted to my frontal lobe.
    Well I need you Dear LMNOP.
    To help me find the makings of me.

    Dear Phrases, Are You Hiding?
    Well come out where ever you are.
    No time for games.
    My words are like knights
    They need to spar
    And battle
    Just like “u” and “i”.
    But right now they are MIA
    And I don’t know why.

    Could they be…..
    Stuck in a world of depression and sin.
    Or lost in a cloud of smoke and just can’t see in.
    Or just can’t get through being blocked by doubt.
    Trapped in a whirlwind and just can’t spin out.

    Dear words, I miss you.You are so special to my being. And being without you is detrimental to my seeing, hearing and yeah even touch. Being without you is like Yogi Bear without his lunch.

    I’m at a loss for words.
    I feel like my world is being rocked. I’m at a loss feeling my whole world is

    Blocked.

    Reply
  7. Lana Joseph © April 2013

    Love Letter
    “By LJ”

    Embrace me my love
    hold me in your smiling soul
    please don’t let me go

    Let’s not grow apart
    This Interlocking bound love
    is sent from above

    Our bond is not sex
    it’s that spiritual lust kind
    a blessing to find

    Captivating love bliss
    this is the real raw jones thing
    it’s not often seen

    let me love you hard
    we have been given God’s gift
    it’s rare and priceless

    love can be scary
    sometimes it’s overwhelming
    God sanctioned this one

    ~Ours~

    Copyright © 2013-07-04 LJ
    N69321960-LJ-QADJS
    All Rights Reserved.

    Reply

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