Posted in Free Verse Poetry, Historical Portrait Poetry, Poetry, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry

My Damn Powerless Hands

Hands

 

It is hard

when you don’t know

where you are going.

And where

you have been,

is fading fast

for the ties that bind us –

barely lie past

the wounds we carry…

 

There has been loss

there is loss

there is more loss

than anyone can ever imagine

and though my heart still beats,

it is not the same.

 

What horrors

Have crossed my path

And what pangs of hunger

Suffering and mistreatment

Has my child had to witness?

My hands to hold

The only things left –

To help him feel safe

In a world that cares not

Our fate,

And even there –

I am powerless.

 

The sun may rise tomorrow

for some,

hovering in all her beauty

above the horizon

I’ve seen such beauty once,

but I can no longer bear to see it.

 

For everything I have lost –

I once held

in my two hands

and their emptiness shatters

the silence of my days.

 

Were I to mourn?

Who would listen?

Were I to cry out injustice

Who would speak for me?

I am but a lone voice

In a wilderness

That has been given

Me no chance

To right the wrongs

That I have borne.

 

Go back, they say

Yet where shall I turn to?

My weary child

Begs for safety

And though I am capable,

I have been prevented

From giving him a home.

 

And though I have travelled miles

Through sweat, hardship and tears

There is nothing left to fight for

As they carry my child away,

Arms flailing,

Crying out my name –

And my powerless hands

My damn powerless hands

Can do nothing.

 

© Sumyanna 2018

 

A similar poem was written by me in 2016 about Syrian refugees.  The story keeps being retold, and nothing has been learned.  Incredibly sad time we live in.

 

Image: Courtesy of Pexels.com

 

Posted in Daily Post Prompt, Free Verse Poetry, Historical Portrait Poetry, Poetry, Poetry from the News, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems, Word Prompt

Building Walls, a poem

wall

 

You assumed

I was not strong enough

You assumed

I laid bare my heart-

And found unworthy,

I’d slink my way

Into the shadows

Unseen

Unknown

Unheard of.

Yet the traces

Of my existence

That you found so

Bereft of meaning

Barely scraped the surface.

You knew not my tears,

Nor their circumstance

You could not bare

The pangs within my heart

The longing reach for meaning

The painful truths of uncertain beginnings

Nor the iron will to make a difference

No matter if anyone cared.

I will not relinquish my right to exist.

You continue to sneer the truths

Of your unfortunate stance

Shout names into the streets

Tear apart, with your own assumptions,

The very decency of the fabric of my heart

And though I should be angry,

I shall let all the rage fall within your lap

Refuse to give home to your aversion

And allow the labels to fall by the wayside

Unseen

Unknown

And unnoticed.

For I know,

No matter which eye you see me with,

It shall always be tainted

By your own disgust.

You underestimate

The breaths

Which give birth to kindness

The hand, held out,

Believing another worthy

The power

Of different stories

Interwoven into a new narrative

And the difference

We could make,

Were we only working together

Instead of building walls.

 

© Sumyanna 2018

 

Written for The Daily Post Prompt: assumption

Beautiful image courtesy of Pixabay.com

Posted in Free Verse Poetry, Historical Portrait Poetry, Poetry, Poetry from the News, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry

to counteract the silence

silence

 

There are some

that lost mothers

there are some

who lost brothers

and there are some

who suffer

in the sadness

of their own minds.

It is not for me

to judge,

to place a

sliding scale

of tragedy,

to measure

their suffering.

Is it not enough

that they have wept?

that they have struggled?

that they are in pain?

And who,

of all of us

has not shed a tear?

Yet many

seek indignant tone

when hands are held forth

when tears are shed.

When tears…

are shed,

and the suffering

ask for humanity

to counteract the silence

to feed as they have been fed

and to weep in kinship

as they lay their dead to rest.

How well does it go

taking care of our own

polishing our own shoes

as others go barefoot

stuffing food in our full mouths

as others

salivate at the

thought of scraps,

(if they are lucky)

for some

may have had nary

a morsel on their tongue.

How can we remain

unchanged?

And when will the winds

of transformation blow

in their direction?

for if it were

up to us –

we would

chain the wind

to ensure its course

never left our own.

 

(c) Sumyanna 2017

 

Amazing image courtesy of Pixabay.com

 

Posted in Daily Post Prompt, Free Verse Poetry, Historical Portrait Poetry, On Life, On Writing, Poems for Artists, Poems for Writers, Poetry, Sad Poems, Thinking Out Loud, Thoughtful Poems, Word Prompt

Reality tv

RealityTV (2)

 

At times, I think

the world prefers

a constant distraction

the bright, flashing lights

of profitable pursuits

that promise

longevity

strength

poise

and beauty

or perhaps,

a grand distraction

to see not,

where we once thrived,

a snake-oil pursuit

of dreams.

Were the sign not flashing,

none would ever see,

for the blandness

of her soil

would not warrant

inspection,

yet how much

is overlooked?

how much

is overlooked?

Just how much

beauty

is hidden

beneath the cracks?

and how much talent

curdles at the wayside

while people clip passages

(shoveling them through)

and the masses applaud?

Where are all

those unspoken dreams

those unfulfilled promises

and those downtrodden hopes?

While the creators create

the fruit

at their fingertips

sits among the cobwebs

waiting for someone to see.

The painters paint

in broader strokes

tearing at their chests

with worry

the writers write,

souls sent in whispers

across the pages

each sheet torn

tossed

and then repeat,

but the world

is busy

reaching for their popcorn

and consuming reality tv.

 

© Sumyanna 2017

 

Written for The Daily Post Prompt: prefer

Fabulous image courtesy of Pixabay.com

Posted in Daily Post Prompt, Free Verse Poetry, Historical Portrait Poetry, Inspirational Poems, Poetry, Poetry from the News, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems, Woman's Poetry, Word Prompt

You Don’t Decide the Definition, a poem

Freedom

 

 

Sometimes,

the world speaks

in darkened tongues

of lingering discontent

the airways

full of longing

to pick apart each victim

piece by innocuous piece

while praising their exceptional

mastery of empathy.

Our marrow seeks

the kindness of strangers,

but we have fallen

into the abyss

forgotten the ways

that caring hands

once held our own

how we sought

the warmth

the strength

in numbers

over the divide.

Instead,

today –

a new voice speaks

while loud and

thundering voices

echo in reply.

Their disdain

of what has –

so long ago held us

together

they choose to divide.

It is the humanness

beneath our skin

that seeks shelter

in the rain

fearing the storm

the quiet before the storm

and the lingering aftertaste

of hate.

What we have

so long ago

fought for

strived for

bled for-

we shall never forget.

The yearning for

TRUE freedom

(an acquired taste

for the oppressed)

shall never be quenched,

no matter how long

their forged nationalistic song

desires to whitewash

what true freedom means.

You can live your own way,

but you don’t decide the definition.

 

(c) Sumyanna 2017

 

Written for The Daily Post Prompt: exceptional

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

Posted in Daily Post Prompt, Free Verse Poetry, Historical Portrait Poetry, Nature Poems, Poetry, Poetry from the News, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems, Word Prompt

We Are Lost and We Just Don’t Know It, a poem

Storm
We are lost and
We just don’t know it
We cry out in the dark of night
Yet hear no other sound
And we fail to see there’s light
In the moon and the stars
To guide us gently home.

We are lost and
We just don’t know it
For mighty men, we stand real tall
And notice not the souls of others
Stamped beneath our feet
But this is progress, we cry
And some obstacles must be overcome.

We are lost and
We just don’t know it
Our sins are veiled beneath fake smiles
And we buy and we sell
Our souls last glories
At bargain basement price
On our pedestals we shine, unaware.

We are lost and
We just don’t know it
You can hear it in the cries
Of unloved child – abused
He lives his life in fear
Just how many of them
Are near?
And we fail to hear their tears

You can hear it
In the sorrows of the old
They are thrown aside
And though their views
Should make them wise
Silent, in homes
They now live their lives
Surrounded by strangers,
They’ve lost their pride
And we fail to hear their tears

You can see it
In the soul of the earth
No respect for beauty or life
Torn open, drained and polluted
The earth’s existence
Is filled with strife
We cry for rain,
For storms reprieve
And we fail to see
What our hands achieve
And we fail to see or hear
By our own deeds, the end is near

We are lost and
We just don’t know it.

© Sumyanna 2015

 

Submitted for The Daily Post Prompt: overcome

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

Posted in Daily Post Prompt, Free Verse Poetry, Historical Portrait Poetry, Poetry, Poetry from the News, Sad Poems, Thoughtful Poems, Word Prompt

You Are Not Welcome Here, a poem

NotWelcome

 

The earth has learned

To anticipate

The ebb and flow

Of our anger

Arising somehow,

From the ashes

And the dust

Of yesteryear –

Ill-conceived truths

That refuse to bear witness

They no longer served us then

Than now

Save to fuel purpose

With our fists.

Let us lay claim

While the world

Is homeless

Let us fill our stomachs

While the world

Endures hunger

Let us sing out with laughter

While the world

Does weep.

Our crime?

The forgotten yearning

That sings within

The hearts of all men –

We want freedom!

We want freedom!

We crave our own freedom,

But we refuse to let others

Be free.

 

© Sumyanna 2017

 

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

Submitted for The Daily Post Prompt: anticipate