STARKLITERARIA 

                                                                        By Marilynn Stark          

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

                                   

                                                                                                
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Giant Little

Giant Little Part Two

Catster's War Poem

Political Commentary

On T.S Eliot      

On Shakespeare

On Goethe

On Latin Inspiration  

Miscellany  

On Skiing  

 

Miscellany

                                                                

                  

 

  •  Bring Back the Days
                                                          
                                                            Marilynn Stark

When terrorism boomed upon the minds that day,
Nor had its whisper been plugged nor thugged;
Were many an ear and eye lifted to sound and sight,
For long-awaited element of surprise found its way.
 
Was mankind lost unto war's badge of promise
When nor French nor we could settle on Asian soil,
Or was that some giant indoctrination of youth unto drugs,
That we would so insult and rebuke our army's own harness?
 
If war has no sanction, then are lives taken in abandon,
Like one giant invasion upon an unwilling people who also invade;
Yet if an enemy with eyes asquint can tell disaster only after,
Is terror to be stored in history's annals, ever some dust-covered canyon.
 
For on the desert of sanity's master live the crazed minds of might
For disaster upon another from awesome insanity,
Who then gain hope to solve the mirage of such abject inanity,
Those hardened anarchists who have lost heart's sight.
 
One day the target will blossom as field,
A seed from yesteryear's love had been sown;
No more the rule of retaliatory struggle,
Yet only the wise had such destiny sealed.
 
The wise met and shook their heads again,
Asked after the simple promise of peace,
But that was much after the defense had been laid,
The defense which met the debacle as if it were when.
 
Now time has made the day more glimmering in hope,
That such battle as had been time's appointed precursor
To, yes, worse and again and again that tumult and death--
No such enemy the fire of repeat could stoke.
 
There are ways to govern and free the oppressed,
To remove the enemy's just complaint;
There are ways to keep the nations' vigil perfected,
And never again will that terrorist attack by power's eye obsessed.
 
Perhaps the terrorists were the culprits in wrong assesses,
Were indeed at the root of their own premeditated complaint?
Did a thunder cloud tell them to air their battle,
As if not theirs, only to belch from their own fiery recesses?
 
Then we have seen the battle for true and for real,
Will overcome its ugly scar and defamation's finger,
Upon us put by crooked ones not capable of their own claims;
We as a nation have more than a notion of what secrets would wrongly seal.
 
And could we straighten the finger upon us put
To face and to tell us a lie after horror's pain,
Then would we also say there is no way to ever commit like deed;
What war is it to fight and to kill untold, calling pure such soot?
 
For soot is soot, and the borders bend,
The flames of drugs lick the senses on both sides;
That miserable poison goes beyond borders,
Giving privy to enemies' ordered fend.
 
Let us remember the days of before, of yore,
When fight was clean and beyond its own dirt;
When men who would contend saw a way after truce,
Fought each battle based on that before.
 
Such wars can be won, can settle the fears,
Can establish mankind's justice and entire day;
Bring back the innocence of our youth taken by him,
That took office to wage drugs on war's face as boys' tears.
 
Bring back the righteous beyond the ken of those now fallen to him;
The invisible grave he occupies, some dictator alive
Still to save face beyond his deserved disgrace;
Let America not be overturned from within as communism's seeds do thrive.
 
Bring back the sky where no blue ray would soar past eagle's beak
Lest the sanction of harmony's soul and truth,
Oh let the truth be sung and won again;
Bring back the days where Old Glory snaps to the winds of war apeak.
 
For war made the flag, let the doves contend for peace after truce;
For man made the war in God's name, let the doves pray for truce;
For what is truce where no sanity speaks first,
For terrorists do not speak to make rules before mayhem's noose.
 
Free the minds to peace from results of terroristic attack;
Draw from history's manager for this come true:
That the real and innocent ways of our noble cause for freedom's eternal days
Will never go under, for but two towers did we ever then lack.
 
We can preserve like seeds instead of fruit
As God makes better the day for peace;
Until then we can count our stores, not in wealth,
But in values we hold until destiny's righteous recruit.
 
August 23, 2003
  2003 by Marilynn Stark

 

 

  •          Freedom

                                                                                Marilynn Stark

Freedom sings a heart's true song, even on days of sorrow's pang,

Lifting the sight to better mind, giving insight's measure its truthful say;

Let sadness pale to realization anew of the sound of liberty's bell which rang

Each time some victory was struck to preserve past tyranny's fray;

This is the way of vision, of might, the way of truth of self we speak,

Each time one person stands strong and sure in freedom's light for freedom's grant;

Then for all is freedom kept, it is so praised and steeped

In the individual by sacred love for will and way, and not for unwanted shan't.

Let freedom be.

May 26, 2005

2005 by Marilynn Stark. All Rights Reserved.

                                                           

 

 
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