willow moon pearce

willow moon pearce Poems

Children are born blind to hate and bigotry
With their big smiles and loving ways
They are taught ugliness
By unthinking adults and overheard conversation

Choking smoke
Rolling thunder
The forgotten soldier
Still cries for his mother

My phone is tapped
My mail examined.
My mere appearance
Can cause anger.

The roar of flames
And crackle of wood
Together with the thud
Of books guaranteed


Its 5am, its cold and muddy
I have not had dry feet in two weeks
Dreams of feather comfortors
And endless sleep

At first I saw
A mass of crosses and lichen stained Angels
Lambs and tombstones

The media have told me
I will die in the next six or seven years
I listen intently
As I will be taken by a tsunami or earthquake.

Not to be gulped
But sipped as a fine wine
I find your complexity
Overwhelming, a wine to be savoured

I remember well, the curse of Sarajevo
My friends cheering, the black line
'We will be home before Christmas'.
I joined because friends had joined.

Are different thoughts really different?
In ways of dress
Black eyeliner
Long and black beribboned hair?

It was a special time
It was a special place
Where we lived, loved and made bread.

Conflicts continue to rock our world
Which I naively hoped would resolve themselves
Countries supplied by weapon salesmen
Which continue to bring starvation, disease

I'm trying to work out in my mind
Why the night shelter demands
10 Dollars a night to rest out of the cold
And danger, when to beg for it is unlawful


No food,
No hope
The old man
Is past caring.

I wanted to become a soldier
An army of one
To please my father and excite
My juvenile ambition

Wandering through my library the other day
I was astonished.
A new subject was Black Writers
I thought a writer was a writer

A happy day
Light at 6 am
Already the warmth creeps in
Enriching my cup of coffee.

I sit sharpening my machete
With a faint ring of steel on steel
The blade has been worn down
With a passion of sharpness.

It has to be a place to visit once in your life.
Changes have happened,
Buildings rebuilt
But it is still magical greenwich village.

When does it all begin?
The game cartridges for children
That enter their growing minds
Like a form of cancer

willow moon pearce Biography

I worry about this world we are supposed to be looking after and mans inhumanity to each other - it gets worse with absence of tolerance with the ' dove and the hawk 'The space between the rich and the poor is getting wider and causing friction.Racism remains the same. We need to change. My poetry is I hope close to the point and makes a person think of his current situation. I want and need peace and have seen this world as it is now with sorrow - I do not like what I see.)

The Best Poem Of willow moon pearce

Taught Racism

Children are born blind to hate and bigotry
With their big smiles and loving ways
They are taught ugliness
By unthinking adults and overheard conversation
This makes them use words and terms that for generations
Have caused hate and bitterness
To our fellow man.

Yes, they are taught, not born
To this social cancer.
I once asked a black friend how he would like
To be addressed?
Black, afro-american or just coloured.
No he said - just call me friend.

willow moon pearce Comments

p.a. noushad 24 January 2009

your ability or power of observing little noticed details is remarkable.

2 0 Reply

willow moon pearce Popularity

willow moon pearce Popularity

Error Success