For Ever, poem

For Ever 

The Mind
when immersed in memories
of yesterday carried by
hopes of tomorrows
and thoughts that like stones
on the surface of a lake
skip from feeling to heart
tracing ripples of emotions
as from nature's beauty
to the smallness of self
is a universal totality
brushing wind over water
to wave onto shore
a life that lost on Earth
helps grow the next wave
that reaches beyond
into the horizon
where some go to sleep
while others wake
are born or take last breath
to be born again
matters not if the sun shines
or the moon reflects on its surface
glass only gives back
the reality of what is
not what one wants
the universal blanket
over and under
above and below
into time on end
not wavering not changing
to accommodate humanity
sustains eternity
what was and what will be
wishing to be more
is as a mere leaf that falls
over an oak seed on its bank
majestic in the passing
before and after us
is where we take part
of forever

Marta
06/01/2017
https://hellopoetry.com/martacweeks/
For Ever by Marta C Weeks

In Memory

Time To Let Time    

It's the seventh day

Of your passing 

And the third day of your interment

In my heart and mind

I see your smile

For in our tears and fears

We feel the God of our understanding

Not just on a cross 

Or memorialized in pages 

In churches, temples or synagogues

For human greed and need 

But the spirit surrounding us

Welcoming you

As you and we cannot; yet must

Let ourselves be in the light 

Tethered by love

Not strung by regrets 

Around what’s left on earth 

In the turmoil of tears

Flooding into and out of us

An ocean of love and pain

You can’t feel anymore

And we

Feel so much more 

For soon it will be time to let go 

As memories keep all 

Let good remember to forget bad

Beyond this earth 

Find meaning to warm feelings 

In the words of embraces

From someone no longer here 

But is always there

Where we are one.

Ode To A Violinist

My heart crashed
As I stood on the sidelines 
You played 
To an adoring crowd

Inside me fear 
Tore away 
As it has done before

I had seen her 
Lock into my lover's eyes 
Take him into promises 
Of her paradise
Then she looked at me
As women do 
To announce 
Pending victory

Lost in that turmoil 
I gazed at you 
Handsome violinist

Young prince of music 
Your violin courting 
Throbbing hearts
Minds filled with desire

My eyes fluttered 
You held them 
I felt avenged
In found promises
Yours into mine

I stayed fixed 
From song to song 
You stroked from chords 
Into my need

I surfaced
Whole and lovely
Into a center of strength
Your visual embrace
Into impending doom
Of lost love 
And unforgettable pain

You came 
In that moment in time 
When I needed lifting 
From sinking into regret 
Into memories of loss

Where you sent by God 
That very second 
Your song a wave 
To lift me from the gulf 
I was falling into

It matters not
The moment passed 
As he came back 
From where he denied
Ever going 
To love me again


By Marta C Weeks
@MartaCWeeks.com
4/20/ 2015

Wrote during a cruise

Published on Hello Poetry http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1883456/ode-to-a-violinist/

In Tribute to President Barack Obama, poem

In Tribute to President Barack Obama


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Even ghosts

Once slaves

Rise

From graves

Of oppression

To see Barack

His eyes

Luminous

With humility

Head high

Steady voice

All witness

His assent

Over mountains

Of Whites, Blacks

Browns and Yellow

Multiplicity of life

In triumph

Barack takes

Bigotry's flames

To dreams that lift

Humanity

Into stars, of equality

And God of all

Rejoices

A son has risen

Marta C. Weeks
January 20, 2009

martacweeks.com

“The Days Don’t Stop” for Aleppo by Zeina Hashem Beck

THE DAYS DON’T STOP the Tyrants sleep like gods the Diplomats regret the Diplomats are at their dinner tables the Dancers dance the Baker bakes the Bread rises  the Earth orbits the Mothers weep the Fathers weep the Children walk in their coats the Children know a law against killing people in houses is not the same as not killing people in houses the Rain drops the Poet writes the dead City’s name the dead City remains dead open like a cow hung in the cold of the slaughterhouse the Lovers touch the Singers sing the Nightmares know dreaming of being buried under the rubble is not the same as being buried under the rubble the Morning comes the Bookkeepers count the Deaths & Births the holy Book says whoever does an atom’s weight of good will see it & whoever does an atom’s weight of evil will see it O eternal Cinematographer the Deeds flicker on the screens of Hell & Heaven the fallen building keeps falling the Saved have no Peace the tides of Blood & Hope eat the body like a disease O Lord please do not heal us —Poets Respond December 18, 2016 [download audio] __________ Zeina Hashem Beck: “This poem is for Aleppo.” (website) Possibly Related: “Ya’aburnee” by Zeina Hashem Beck “This Country: Ghazal for Abdel Halim Hafez” by Zeina Hashem Beck 2016 Rattle Chapbook Prize Winner “Ghazal: Back Home” by Zeina Hashem Beck “My Pet Alien” by Dennis Caswell This posting includes an audio/video/photo media file: Download Now

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Poem: Women Rise

Our wombs thunder

with spirits of steel

a steady pace and hunger

for healing.

The stars,

our hallowed ground,

call us to fight

with tender hearts

and wise minds.

From priestess

to prostitute, sacred all,

made to conceive

not be torn apart.

We must rise

against edicts that imprison

lies and pass evils
from dark to light.

by ©Marta 6-12-2016

Inspired by Hillary Rodham Clinton, first woman presumptive nominee for President of the United States of America.

Submitted to: The United State of Women

Ode to Rosa Parks

Giving It All

While watching the funeral

for Rosa Parks,

I thought of how Rosa gave it all,

for a seat on a bus.

It was huge what Rosa did.

A complete thing,

at a time when fighting injustice,

meant the loss of life

and liberty.

Today people seem content

with little, and just want more

of what means nothing

and settle to mourn with empty souls.

Rosa’s, full of love, liberated us all

with a simple and humble act,

from those that today still carry

the torch of subjugation.

What Rosa Parks did

was not a little something,

a half measure of rebellion,

Rosa gave her life for that seat;

all we have is our life.

The bigots we feed our children,

to keep acceptable injustice

stoned Rosa.

Help us stand Rosa

and not kneel at pews of fear

that turns us into sheep,

that slaughter others

and keeps us in hell

by threatening us with heaven.

Marta ©October 24, 2005