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,
......
Eventually, He Evens the Events…
by Ololade Raji
Even as we still feel like a feeble pawn in a chess of gluttony, yet, You made us resist the temptation of greed deeply rooted in an aroma of enticing betrayal
Events of recent months affirmed that the scorching of these black skins is an incandescent reflection of the deep dark shades of some souls
Even as Ayi Kwei Armah’s ‘Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born’ continues to bolster our disgust with injustice and will ultimately sharpen the ingrained desire for justness
Events of these last hours also affirmed that the cleansing of the malodourous souls are never awashed by an ocean of tears
Eventually, I pray the seeds of forgiveness sprout as Your torrent comes, as I am tired of writing the book of good in this library of evil. He will lead His people as I am indeed lost!
......
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.
......
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.
As I Sat Alone By Blue Ontario's Shores
by Walt Whitman
AS I sat alone, by blue Ontario's shore,
As I mused of these mighty days, and of peace return'd, and the dead
that return no more,
A Phantom, gigantic, superb, with stern visage, accosted me;
Chant me the poem, it said, that comes from the soul of America--
chant me the carol of victory;
And strike up the marches of Libertad--marches more powerful yet;
And sing me before you go, the song of the throes of Democracy.
(Democracy--the destin'd conqueror--yet treacherous lip-smiles
......
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
......
