"Raise the Shields"
(Dr. Spence Linking Pin Sonnet for Child Abuse Prevention Month)
Cries pierce the silence where trust should have grown,
Grown are the shadows where safety's unknown,
Unknown are the wounds that no eye can see,
See how the soul screams while lips whisper "free."
Free them from hands that betray every vow,
Vow to stand firm and protect them somehow,
Somehow light breaks through the thickest despair,
Despair shatters when bold hearts choose to care.
Care isn't passive — it shouts in the street,
Street after street, we march so harm meets defeat,
Defeat the silence, the shame, and the fear,
Fear not the battle — the children are near!
Near beats the heartbeat of futures at stake,
Stake down the shields — defend every child’s sake!
© USA Goodwill Ambassador, professor Dr. Joseph S. Spence Sr. (Epulaeryu Master). All Rights Reserved (April 29, 2025).
Written: April 2nd, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Constance La France
Quote: "No winter lasts forever, no spring skips its time, and April instills a feeling of freshness so sublime. By Poet"
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The wildflowers now bear the base lay,
Delicate petals dance in a gentle sway.
Soft pink, rosy yellow, and a dawn hue,
Daisy petals mirror tiny steps in a queue.
Bees and feathered creatures soar in the sky,
Wafting in between, along a lush garden awry.
Emerald with pink cyclamens and a sour hint,
By the sweet aroma of cherry blossom tint.
Spring grace, so close, I yelled what a season?
“A fight of voice exceeds one of fists.”
Bludgeoned, broken, cast away,
Time devours, your name decay,
Ascend beyond the gilded throne,
Unsung, unrested, still overthrown.
Happy Women's History Month!
Crushed.
Dust chokes the air
And encircles the vicinity
Burnt.
Charred and battered.
A blackened stump,
The remains of what once was alive.
Hacked to pieces.
Still, lifeless—
Left to die
Will you still bloom?
Will you rise from the ruins,
Brush off the kiss of death?
Will you cling on to the fact that—
You still breathe?
Get up.
They crushed you.
They burnt you—
Tried to turn you to ash,
Hacked you to pieces,
But still—you stand.
Stand tall.
Raise that head high.
You overcame what no man ever did—
A living testimony.
Narrowly escaping your own death
You fought—
You fought the obstacles, the trials, the stones meant to hurt you
And yet—you bloomed.
Wind cannot shatter your tree of glass
Your performance of involvement pushes you afar
A moon can shine with euphoric light
It shines and tries to avoid its dark side
But you stand, shifting, alive and in place
Hands steady
Shakes buried
Somewhere not today.
Your breath a sign of angels
Your soul not out of place
A beauty in your angles
And not a line of hate
You chose this path
Here not tomorrow
Not to live in the past
To be chained by a sorrow.
It’s a beauty this distress
To be chained as the best
A wish became a lie or hope
Until you found you were far from home
This feeling to belong
In the sleeves of an angel
Took and killed the parts of you
Until your wish became true
All that's left is a husk of memory
Made into human by hopes of divinity
Is it too late to regret
Changing what was said
A choice spoken to a soul of glass
To be changed and be made into a tree of man
Now all that's left
Is the choice of man
But you think you might like to change one instead.
I woke up morning late,
oh, forsake I hope I’m not late.
Black Friday!
It’s that time of year.
The official season for shoppers is here.
I hustle simultaneously with rut of shoppers,
on the road flocking to stores and malls,
while some shop by phones making calls.
To bustle for the best deal to get.
When prices plummet, the steal is set.
I shop like it’s a reality game,
to see how much money I save,
does what consider for me to gain.
That too impulsive will bring buyer pain.
Like a rollercoaster up and down the aisle I peek,
greeting shoppers with smile as I seek.
The aisles are a ruinous display from shoppers.
I am in shattered by the fact,
where on the shelves my item lacks.
I did not consider the timing,
now too late for Christmas finding.
You broke me down hard,
Splinters of me everywhere,
Are you happy now?
We drifted apart and yet struck together
We carry the precious or is it yet to gather
Was it mere inconvenience or bigger bother,
That a world was created and now we watch it shatter.
Shatter me
The aching, hollow pain that carves out the very essence of my heart burns through my veins, filling this fleshy vessel of mine
A mystery that is as obvious as the crimson of raw blood
Bigger than just a muscle tucked away behind my ribs
Working away innocently, never stopping even when I want it to
Pumping blood through my veins along with poisonous feelings and pain
That lits up, a lonely lantern on a gloomy, dark street as soon as the slightest ray of your essence begins to peer in through this stormy tumultuous night
I inhale your presence, basking in it’s warm light
Like a selfish, cold blooded reptile that devours each hopeful ray of light
I let it shatter my glass bones, my fingertips, my heart
This is the answer to my pleas I let it drown me with my blood
Letting the warm, metallic liquid seep through me like paper
Breaking my bones and my soul Embracing it like a painful serenade
A sombre sonnet, a gift that I present myself that bestows my humanity upon me like a crown of blackthorns
Cursed forevermore my own tragedy that I bestow upon myself time and time again that shatters me inside and out
The sound was unmistakable:
glass splintering
on the tile floor.
T'was my heart
she slipped away again
breaking into innumerable
slivered fragments of love.
perhaps
one should have
a plastic heart
that would not shatter
from Death’s hard blows.
You know that hurt when I gave you my glass heart, I gave you the warning but it seems it came out like a silent plate because you tossed me onto the floor, shattering me and watching me with a knife filled smile as my pieces shattered across with a few cuts of trust and dripping blood of tears I picked the glass of my heart up, the glass still chips from time to time, more tears leak from my porcelain eyes, but I pick the pieces up again, my glass heart feels the cuts too, they are deep, betrayal, hurt, overthinking and fear. Fear to give anyone the glass again, fear of being shattered again, even more do the cuts effect, with friends with family and even yourself, so scared to bleed again. I keep your glass heart in the cabinet, the pieces of glass chipping and falling into the bowl of my mind, it feels the cuts to, the bowl and plate start to chip together into the cup that is the mouth, bleeding, the cup not letting anyone into the cabinet, staying dirty so it can't be used, dropped and shattered again.
clarity seeps the wound
the flip phone missing digits
a womb infused with violet hues
it's quiet till it fidgets
happenstance and bruise
it swells for martyr avenues
the screen is cracked yet vivid
seed in purple
seized usurper
seems the impact killed it
We think we have our safety net
filling our lives full of every little thing
favourites we protect ourselves around
'I am a rock' is what we like to sing
Being a reader I love my books
my poetry is to me a real anchor
to me, it's what keeps me together
not like the Titanic, ice rock sank her!
In my solitude of my quiet room
this is my rock, my safety net
there in my loneliness, I do like
me and my thoughts there to collect
As like an island there I stand
separated by liquid all around
standing tall above everything else
listening to birds lyrical sound
A rock that no one can shatter
now that's something to have near
think deep down is that really true?
that rock maybe has a fear!
( This is based on Simon & Garfunkel's ' I am a Rock'
'I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armour
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock.
I am an island.
And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.)
Breakings
by Michael R. Burch
I did it out of pity.
I did it out of love.
I did it not to break the heart of a tender, wounded dove.
But gods without compassion
ordained: "Frail things must break!"
Now what can I do for her shattered psyche’s sake?
I did it not to push.
I did it not to shove.
I did it to assist the flight of indiscriminate Love.
But gods, all mad as hatters,
who legislate in all such matters,
ordained that everything irreplaceable shatters.
What Was Matter When We Shatter
What was the matter with the clatter,
Causing things to break and shatter,
After shaking,
And breaking,
Then finding surfaces become flatter.
Jim Horn
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