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Bibhishan's Warning

Twenty warriors armed and girded in the Council Hall arose,
Thirsting for a war of vengeance, hurling challenge on the foes,

But Bibhishan deep in wisdom-Ravan's youngest brother he,-
Spake the word of solemn warning, for his eye could farthest see:

'Pardon, king and honoured elder, if Bibhishan lifts his voice
'Gainst the wishes of the warriors and the monarch's fatal choice,

Firm in faith and strong in forces Rama comes with conqu'ring might,
Vain against a righteous warrior would unrighteous Ravan fight!

Think him not a common Vanar who transpassed the ocean wave,
Wrecked thy city tower and temple and a sign and warning gave,

Think him not a common hermit who Ayodhya ruled of yore,
Crossing India's streams and mountains, thunders now on Lanka's shore!

What dark deed of crime or folly hath the righteous Rama done,
That you stole his faithful consort unprotected and alone,

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poem by Valmiki
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The Defiance Of Eteocles

MESSENGER

Now at the Seventh Gate the seventh chief,
Thy proper mother's son, I will announce,
What fortune for this city, for himself,
With curses he invoketh:--on the walls
Ascending, heralded as king, to stand,
With paeans for their capture; then with thee
To fight, and either slaying near thee die,
Or thee, who wronged him, chasing forth alive,
Requite in kind his proper banishment.
Such words he shouts, and calls upon the gods
Who o'er his race preside and Fatherland,
With gracious eye to look upon his prayers.
A well-wrought buckler, newly forged, he bears,
With twofold blazon riveted thereon,
For there a woman leads, with sober mien,
A mailed warrior, enchased in gold;
Justice her style, and thus the legend speaks:--
'This man I will restore, and he shall hold

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poem by Aeschylus
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Can You Turn?

Can you turn from the sword
that invites-please
'Hang upon me? '

Or shrink back from the
boasting pool that whispers
'Jump'

But I am afraid of blood which
makes me sick
Scalding water on tender skin-

It is terrible, terrible, terrible

Faith is useless here:
I tell you this, it is no illusion

The blood is real and so is the bubbling water

Look carefully:

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poem by Isabelle Cooper
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How could I define

How could I define your presence in my life?
I witnessed turmoil and remained on edge of knife
Thank God you nearly saved me from public outrage
I was to prove my self as shame on the age

You did hold my arm and took to safety
You were so kind and proved all nicety
I was almost sunk in your absence
It was you who took me by surprise in everybody’s presence

I used to compare you with cool and bright moon
I enjoyed your bright less presence in the bright noon
You were there but had nothing of moon’s character
I simply adored you in my dream as ordinary actor

I should have been careful not to be spotted
All areas and points beautifully I had plotted
You were in all colors but clad in white
What I thought of you was a simple light

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Crum Appointment

You, no doubt, have heard the story told of Charleston by the sea,
How they persecute a Negro when a man he tries to be,
'Tis of national importance and the world enjoys the sport,
Caused by William Crum's appointment as collector of the port.

When the president decided to appoint him to the place,
Then a train of opposition from the city set apace,
'Our objection to a Negro,' said the whites, 'has ever been,
That we fear contamination from the color of his skin.'

This the president dishonored, then they brought another plea,
'To the great and grand old party, he has faithless proved to be,'
Crum his loyalty established and the fallacy declared,
Brought McComas to his rescue and the prejudice was bared.

To the friends within the senate they directed their appeal,
To defeat his confirmation and suppress a Negro's weal,
For a time the plan succeeded, thus a vote was thwarted twice—
He was promptly re-appointed till the same was numbered thrice.

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poem by Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
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Jerry Is A Man

Margaret bought him from a Phoenix laboratory
Outrage he'd get the axe, in the literal of sense
Cargrew thought her mad, and took it all in strides
Brownie was displeased and said it was her spit
But she said it was concern for all utensils right
Because Jerry is a man not a dog food machine

He was just a cattle Joe engineered for sanitation
Built for odd job routines, across the corporate nation
Labor made his paradise, benefits with no insurance
His occupation hazards were befitting for compensation
Which he got in payment of non brand name cigarettes
It was just the perfect timing for a mansion on Malibu

Got an autoclave Zamboni for a test tube baby daddy
Factory commissioned with a brand name on his sleeve
Though his intelligence quotation is below a baby elephant
He’s an expert with his fingers above anthropoid development
Built completely from scratch with proteins that can match
There’s nothing faulty in his conscience because he’s just a man

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poem by Kevin Patrick
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It should concern you

It should, in no way, concern you
You have your entire share that is due
Let others go to anywhere and have downfall?
Why unnecessarily worry and respond to a call?

In which way it should bother us?
Are there not accidents taking place while traveling in bus?
Why create so much stir and fuss?
We should merely express sorry and live thus

Many may be meeting with unnatural deaths
Then also nothing affects and shakes our faith
We simply shed tears and express sorrow
Who cares for today and even for better tomorrow?

We do make sometimes money out of tragedy
Steal the articles with eyes so much greedy
Lead the way and prefer where gain is more
We witness such scenes never seen before

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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A lucky seventh ton

It is great feat forward to watch the completion of seventh ton
I received congratulation from friends with several phones
The line is still buzzing with many more waiting to come on line
It is wonderful day in life to feel elated and very fine

It is nothing new to go on piling the creations
It may add in n umbers with good citations
I may blend it with fine oratory and quotations
It may certainly be liked by friends with equations

How much love and affections readers have given?
For all my silly mistakes, I have been forgiven
Their cautious comments made me to believe in constant change
It was tremendous boost for writer and had nothing to do with age

When I look back and glance at journey?
It was never meant for any quest or money
It provided me rich food in the form of literature
I was nothing if front of all as small and ordinary creature

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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At and each moment

We are going down each moment everyday
There is no peace in any day
No respite and many challenges on the way
Future seems bleak and no hope for bright ray

There is nothing like joy in coming future
No one seems to be certain or very sure
New names for diseases and no permanent cure
Where to go and who can come to reassure?

God is always there to listen to our woes
Life may always be on sharp edges and keeps us on toe
It needs one right push with one word to go
Life is like foot ball to be played with one throw

Nobody may listen to our complaints
All criminals have reformed and turned saints
All are clad in white cloths and act as wolf
Descent life to live and play pleasure game of golf

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Boston Hymn

The word of the Lord by night
To the watching Pilgrims came,
As they sat by the seaside,
And filled their hearts with flame.

God said, I am tired of kings,
I suffer them no more;
Up to my ear the morning brings
The outrage of the poor.

Think ye I made this ball
A field of havoc and war,
Where tyrants great and tyrants small
Might harry the weak and poor?

My angel, his name is Freedom,--
Choose him to be your king;
He shall cut pathways east and west,
And fend you with his wing.

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poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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