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The Damage of Abuse

I wish I could expose and shame
All those who abused you when you were a girl
Growing up in a torrent of hail and pain
As they stripped the remains of your childhood away

The foster-mother who neglected you
The foster-father who molested you
The welfare worker who imprisoned you
The state psychiatrist who violated you
The extended family that turned their eyes blind
The review board members who enabled it all

I wish I could avenge the damage
That impels your daily struggle for peace
Your search for perfection and release
And your courageous strength of will
Reaching for what is normal and whole

Show me who to shame and kill
To avenge the damages done to you

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poem by Frank Bana
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Man of Necrophilia

In appearance of unpredicted
A slim body and
Layer lacquered head
Smile mixed with evil
He is in prison in a special cell

An assassin of suspicious
Evidences disappeared
Waiting impatiently to shake off
And aiming to avenge the rest

Crappy famous inherited life
Claggier and compulsive mind
Bereaved conscience of many cells
Penitence married approaching to saturation

A thug and a burglar in profession
A former soldier escaped from the army
Among the gang, he is the man to shoot home
Arrogant mind enlarged by that belief

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poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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Definite Opinions About Current World Events

I believe in God.

God has definite
divine opinions about
current world events.

Even when I am gone
others will still voice
new similar concerns.

War is said to be
diplomacy
by other means.

Tread carefully
war horror proves
who is strongest
not who is right.

Might is seldom right.

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Prophet And The Poet: Teach Synonymous Parallelism

What is
Synonymous
parallelism?

Synonymous
Parallelism
in biblical poetry

is repetition
a parallel
segment

repeats
an idea
found

in the previous
segment
kind of paraphrase

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poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Castle In Austria

From 'The Boy's Wonderhorn'

There lies a castle in Austria,
Right goodly to behold,
Walled tip with marble stones so fair,
With silver and with red gold.

Therein lies captive a young boy,
For life and death he lies bound,
Full forty fathoms under the earth,
'Midst vipers and snakes around.

His father came from Rosenberg,
Before the tower he went:--
'My son, my dearest son, how hard
Is thy imprisonment!'

'O father, dearest father mine,
So hardly I am bound,
Full forty fathoms under the earth,

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poem by Clemens Maria Brentano
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To The Genius Of Africa

O thou who from the mountain's height
Roll'st down thy clouds with all their weight
Of waters to old Niles majestic tide;
Or o'er the dark sepulchral plain
Recallest thy Palmyra's ancient pride,
Amid whose desolated domes
Secure the savage chacal roams,
Where from the fragments of the hallow'd fane
The Arabs rear their miserable homes!

Hear Genius hear thy children's cry!
Not always should'st thou love to brood
Stern o'er the desert solitude
Where seas of sand toss their hot surges high;
Nor Genius should the midnight song
Detain thee in some milder mood
The palmy plains among
Where Gambia to the torches light
Flows radiant thro' the awaken'd night.

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poem by Robert Southey
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Duellum (The Duel)

Deux guerriers ont couru l'un sur l'autre, leurs armes
Ont éclaboussé l'air de lueurs et de sang.
Ces jeux, ces cliquetis du fer sont les vacarmes
D'une jeunesse en proie à l'amour vagissant.

Les glaives sont brisés! comme notre jeunesse,
Ma chère! Mais les dents, les ongles acérés,
Vengent bientôt l'épée et la dague traîtresse.
— Ô fureur des coeurs mûrs par l'amour ulcérés!

Dans le ravin hanté des chats-pards et des onces
Nos héros, s'étreignant méchamment, ont roulé,
Et leur peau fleurira l'aridité des ronces.

— Ce gouffre, c'est l'enfer, de nos amis peuplé!
Roulons-y sans remords, amazone inhumaine,
Afin d'éterniser l'ardeur de notre haine!

The Duel

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poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Ojistoh

I am Ojistoh, I am she, the wife
Of him whose name breathes bravery and life
And courage to the tribe that calls him chief.
I am Ojistoh, his white star, and he
Is land, and lake, and sky--and soul to me.

Ah! but they hated him, those Huron braves,
Him who had flung their warriors into graves,
Him who had crushed them underneath his heel
Whose arm was iron, and whose heart was steel
To all--save me, Ojistoh, chosen wife
Of my great Mohawk, white star of his life.

Ah! but they hated him, and councilled long
With subtle witchcraft how to work him wrong;
How to avenge their dead, and strike him where
His pride was highest, and his fame most fair.
Their hearts grew weak as women at his name:
They dared no war-path since my Mohawk came
With ashen bow, and flinten arrow-head

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poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Hermann And Dorothea - VI. Klio

THE AGE.

WHEN the pastor ask'd the foreign magistrate questions,
What the people had suffer'd, how long from their homes they had wander'd,
Then the man replied:--'By no means short are our sorrows,
For we have drunk the bitters of many a long year together,
All the more dreadful, because our fairest hopes have been blighted.
Who can deny that his heart beat wildly and high in his bosom
And that with purer pulses his breast more freely was throbbing,
When the newborn sun first rose in the whole of its glory,
When we heard of the right of man, to have all things in common,
Heard of noble Equality, and of inspiriting Freedom!
Each man then hoped to attain new life for himself, and the fetters
Which had encircled many a land appear'd to be broken,
Fetters held by the hands of sloth and selfish indulgence.
Did not all nations turn their gaze, in those days of emotion,
Tow'rds the world's capital, which so many a long year had been so,
And then more than ever deserved a name so distinguish'd?
Were not the men, who first proclaim'd so noble a message,
Names that are worthy to rank with the highest the sun ever shone on,

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poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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The Odyssey: Book 24

Then Mercury of Cyllene summoned the ghosts of the suitors, and in
his hand he held the fair golden wand with which he seals men's eyes
in sleep or wakes them just as he pleases; with this he roused the
ghosts and led them, while they followed whining and gibbering
behind him. As bats fly squealing in the hollow of some great cave,
when one of them has fallen out of the cluster in which they hang,
even so did the ghosts whine and squeal as Mercury the healer of
sorrow led them down into the dark abode of death. When they had
passed the waters of Oceanus and the rock Leucas, they came to the
gates of the sun and the land of dreams, whereon they reached the
meadow of asphodel where dwell the souls and shadows of them that
can labour no more.
Here they found the ghost of Achilles son of Peleus, with those of
Patroclus, Antilochus, and Ajax, who was the finest and handsomest man
of all the Danaans after the son of Peleus himself.
They gathered round the ghost of the son of Peleus, and the ghost of
Agamemnon joined them, sorrowing bitterly. Round him were gathered
also the ghosts of those who had perished with him in the house of
Aeisthus; and the ghost of Achilles spoke first.
"Son of Atreus," it said, "we used to say that Jove had loved you

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poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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