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Choice

Life bifurcates itself
Into Moses and Pharaoh
As objects of desire
To awaken Man's capacity
For choice.There's a hidden power
Within him
And when life repeatedly turns him

From one state of feelings to another
To reveal
The Truth through opposites
It grows stronger in insight,
Sinks not in sin, alive survives,
Illusion-the bandit that assaults
Human hearts.

poem by Yoonoos Peerbocus
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Off Piste

Our RE teacher never somehow looked
exactly the way he was supposed to.
Bushy Mexican bandit black moustache.
His winter school ski trips to Austria

Always a sell-out, all-ticket event.
One Christmas – a few years back now – they said
deep in the first snowfall of retirement

he caught an edge at the peak of his stairs
and avalanched down, piled up in the hall.

Black ice can wipe you out at any time.

www.matthewcoombe.blogspot.c om

poem by Matthew Coombe
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Old Age

It may be, when this city of the nine gates
Is broken down by ruinous old age,
And no one upon any pilgrimage
Comes knocking, no one for an audience waits,
And no bright foraging troop of bandit moods
Rides out on the brave folly of any guest,
But weariness, the restless shadow of rest,
Hoveringly upon the city broods;
It may be, then, that those remembering
And sleepless watchers on the crumbling towers
Shall lose the count of the disastrous hours
Which God may have grown tired of reckoning.

poem by Arthur Symons
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The Next Poet’s Exhilarating Dream

I should be back-alley midnight dead
Having seen the last sunset’s vanishing light
Replaced with a gorgeously blood-dripping eternal night
Instead of counting lingering regrets
With lonely and dimming eyes still squinting into the past.
I only wanted to live a limited amount of days
And I’ve pointlessly over-extended my stay…

Had I been a teenage genius
Along the lines of Arthur Rimbaud,
I wouldn’t hesitate to go,

One should create art
And then flee
Like a wild and ruthless bandit
Into the next poet’s exhilarating dream!

poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Cargoes of Childhood

The world was young in mystery
The Winnebah breezes blew in song
No child would bring cargo to Tema Harbour
Or steer her ship by that violent shore

And once the green Dalmatian coast
The bandit Macedonian hills
Were the boundary lines of my poetry
Horizons of my careless dreams

But adhesive stamps from the Gold Coast
Malagasy, Bechuanaland
Stuck to my fingers, my first satchel
And each succeeding travel bag

The kings of Siam and Samarkand
And caravans that knew their names
Caught my ears, riding underground
To school by the dark, unyielding Thames.

poem by Frank Bana
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Apostrophe to Nature

O Sun! bright face aye undefiled;
O flowers i' the valley blooming wild;
Caverns, dim haunt of Solitude;
Perfume whereby one's step's beguiled
Deep, deep into the sombre wood;

O Sacred mounts that heavenward climb,
White as a temple-front, sublime;
Old oaks that centuries' might inherit
(Somewhat whereof I feel, what time
'Neath you I stand, endues my spirit);

O virgin forest, crystal spring,
Lake where no storm for long can fling
Darkness, clear heaven-reflecting face,—
Pure soul of Nature unslumbering,
What think you of this bandit base?

poem by Victor Hugo
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42 - The Bright Lights of Las Vegas

The bright lights of Las Vegas
Casinos open around the clock
Wedding bells, Grand hotels
A place where the fornicators flock

Like the showgirls on the strip
The rainbow waters dance
European countries recreated
England, Venice and France

At the bar the drinks roll in
As the alcoholics sit
While gamblers like to shake
The hand of the one arm bandit

The city of sin and adulterers
The sounds of the old school tunes
Neon lights, Gangland fights
The mirage and the windblown dunes

[...] Read more

poem by Nicola Burkett
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The Caffer

Lo! where he crouches by the cleugh's dark side,
Eyeing the farmer's lowing herds afar;
Impatient watching till the Evening Star
Lead forth the Twilight dim, that he may glide
Like panther to the prey. With freeborn pride
He scorns the herdsman, nor regards the scar
Of recent wound -- but burnishes for war
His assagai and targe of buffalo-hide.
He is a Robber? -- True; it is a strife
Between the black-skinned bandit and the white.
A Savage? -- Yes; though loth to aim at life,
Evil for evil fierce he doth requite.
A Heathen? -- Teach him, then, thy better creed,
Christian! if thou deserv'st that name indeed.

poem by Thomas Pringle
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O this air, intoxicated with sedition

O this air, intoxicated with sedition,
On the black square of the Kremlin.
The agitators rock the teetering world .
It smells of restless poplars.

The waxen facades of the cathedrals,
The thick forest of bells,
As if a tongueless bandit
Had vanished in the stony rafters.

But in the sealed cathedrals,
Where it is cool and dark,
Like in delicate clay amphoras,
The Russian wine sparkles.

The whole Assumption, wonderfully rotund,
The marvel of the arches of Paradise.
And the Annunciation, in green,
Suddenly seems to start to crow.

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poem by Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
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SOS (Save Our Sons)

We Black men of England
Too proud to cry for shame,
Let's cry a sea
Cry publicly,
Expose our very pain,
For Babylon the bandit
Is on our sisters trail,
The bad talk
And the cool walk
Will not keep us out of jail.

We Black men of England
Our guns are killing us,
How dare we?
Now hear me
How great is dangerous?
There's a fascist and a druggist
Out to get our kith and kin,
Let silent guns
Save our sons

[...] Read more

poem by Benjamin Zephaniah
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