Reading, writing, ‘rithmetic of rifles (for Uvalde and other schools…)
for Uvalde and other schools…
Out of Afghanistan
This long bloody madness has ended.
Can we learn to love peace at last?
Fighting for Oak Flat/Chi Chil Bildagoteel
“Nobody made a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could only do little.” —Edmund Burke
To the Inaugural Poet
This poem is a response to the Inaugural Poet’s address which featured near the end the line: “The new dawn blooms as we free it”.
A Bird Is a Bird
To be honest,
I don’t remember
What I’ve come here for
Surely, it must have been an important reason
One doesn’t just make a vagabond of oneself for no reason
When I remember I will finish this poem. . .
Abd el-Hadi Fights a Superpower
In his life he neither wrote nor read. In his life he didn’t cut down a single tree, didn’t slit the throat of a single calf. In his life he did not speak of the New York Times behind its back, didn’t raise his voice to a soul except in his saying: “Come in, […]
Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow
In the prime of our youth
We dreamt of hope
Testimonies of a new world
Anthems of a new tomorrow
A world in which no one
Suffered sorrow or knew of hunger
On this side there were multitudes
On the other the elite
On this side the hungry, the naked
On the other the treasures of Egypt
The mark of Cain won’t sprout
from a soldier who shoots
at the head of a child
on a knoll by the fence
around a refugee camp —
for beneath his helmet,
his head is made of cardboard.
(for Ash and his birthplace) Within the rubble, Child’s face, doll’s face, unblinking Blushing in red dawn Russell Ragsdale is a chef in Almaty, Kazakhstan. Visit his blog: Yuckelbel’s Canon.
In One Sigh
In one sigh, Death in a third world, A hand lies withered and curled, Peals of death rain down on a child, Artists of life are ruined and defiled, My ovaries sag with hate, I am death to procreate, In one sigh. Ros Csikc-Cyr is an activist. Her poetry offers a perspective on issues […]
Homage to Nazim Hikmet
Living is no laughing matter:
you must live with great seriousness
like a squirrel, for example —
I mean without looking for something beyond and above living,
I mean living must be your whole occupation.
Nazim Hikmet, “On Living,” 1947