Justice Poems
The British
by Benjamin Zephaniah
Take some Picts, Celts and Silures
And let them settle,
Then overrun them with Roman conquerors.
Remove the Romans after approximately 400 years
Add lots of Norman French to some
Angles, Saxons, Jutes and Vikings, then stir vigorously.
Mix some hot Chileans, cool Jamaicans, Dominicans,
Trinidadians and Bajans with some Ethiopians, Chinese,
......
Norman And Saxon
by Rudyard Kipling
My son," said the Norman Baron, "I am dying, and you will be heir
To all the broad acres in England that William gave me for my share
When we conquered the Saxon at Hastings, and a nice little handful it is.
But before you go over to rule it I want you to understand this:—
"The Saxon is not like us Normans, His manners are not so polite.
But he never means anything serious till he talks about justice and right.
When he stands like an ox in the furrow with his sullen set eyes on your own,
And grumbles, "This isn't fair dealings," my son, leave the Saxon alone.
......
A Dedication
by Robert Burns
Expect na, sir, in this narration,
A fleechin, fleth'rin Dedication,
To roose you up, an' ca' you guid,
An' sprung o' great an' noble bluid,
Because ye're surnam'd like His Grace-
Perhaps related to the race:
Then, when I'm tir'd-and sae are ye,
Wi' mony a fulsome, sinfu' lie,
Set up a face how I stop short,
For fear your modesty be hurt.
......
The Female Of The Species
by Rudyard Kipling
When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail,
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
When Nag, the wayside cobra, hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can,
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail -
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
......
People's Voice at the End of Twilight
by Ayatullah Nurjati
at the edge of the red twilight, the voice of the people echoed weakly.
In unheard whispers, there is hope that is increasingly fading.
The streets are full of grey dust, leaving footprints without a new destination.
Behind the glitter of the bustling city, they are overlooked in a gloomy shadow of silence and peace. The voices of the people who are tired of screaming, reaching for justice which is increasingly difficult.
Burned by empty promises, but still hopeful in wounded hope.
Dusk turns into dark night, But the voice never went away. In the hearts of those who continue to groan, there is a prayer that strengthens the weary soul.
cure-alls
by Rikske Kessner
naught save the peddlers of art
where entertainment’s a la carte
and the menu card’s kind a faulty
yet here we’re reasonably comfy
so show us the justice of poetry
lost in the valley of minutes and years
it’s audience so glad to have been found
consumers shall ever-consume and
......
89. Until The Calm
by Kea Campbell
The darkness does not knock— it seeps, and it stains.
It craws through your marrow and threads through your veins.
Not a wound to touch, nor a scar to trace.
Just a hollowing force that tried your life and stole your grace.
I hear neighbors laugh, then it twists into your cries.
I know your grief presses heavy— cold and unkind.
I’m helpless in flesh as I draft, for you, my prayers.
Oh Lord— how I would bear your sorrow and spare you these labors.
......
Against Honor Killing
by Irfan Ali
What kind of honor, what kind of pride,
That steals a life, and lets justice slide,
For love’s sweet crime, blood is spilled,
This cruel game, where mercy is killed.
Old traditions, customs so bleak,
Where women are stories, forbidden to speak,
No right to live, no dreams to bloom,
What kind of society, what kind of doom?
......
People's Voice at the End of Twilight
by Ayatullah Nurjati
at the edge of the red twilight, the voice of the people echoed weakly.
In unheard whispers, there is hope that is increasingly fading.
The streets are full of grey dust, leaving footprints without a new destination.
Behind the glitter of the bustling city, they are overlooked in a gloomy shadow of silence and peace. The voices of the people who are tired of screaming, reaching for justice which is increasingly difficult.
Burned by empty promises, but still hopeful in wounded hope.
Dusk turns into dark night, But the voice never went away. In the hearts of those who continue to groan, there is a prayer that strengthens the weary soul.
Rule Over Ashes
by Md. Naeem Aziz
In my country where shadows loom,
Ruler cast a pall of gloom.
When Justice Call,
Students stands tall.
They sacrificed their lives,
Answering the call.
They accepted martyrdom,
To bring justice for all.
To rule a nation
......
