UNCLAIMED

Burning Monk · (#1 (**permalink**))

Hello peps,

This is something I put in for the Amnesty International stop violence against women contest a while ago. As I am not registered to the kind of organisations that analyse and criticise poetry, free verse I thought I’ll drop it here. Here it is; it is called UNCLAIMED. It is loosely based on a slavery tale scenario about the kind of situations that are currently happening in Islamic-Arabic, African nations such as Niger.

[align=center]UNCLAIMED[/align]

[align=center]Holds to the bowl [/align]

[align=center]Of a chief’s house has snapped[/align]

[align=center]His living stream [/align]

[align=center]Ceased pouring from the flask,[/align]

[align=center]What has happened [/align]

[align=center]To my inheritance [/align]

[align=center]A son now asks?[/align]

[align=center][/align]

[align=center]What has happened?[/align]

[align=center]The day you heard the sound of creaking echoes [/align]

[align=center]Echo back piercing through your anvil?[/align]

[align=center]It was the weaker vessel of your home[/align]

[align=center]Some thought, he had a grip[/align]

[align=center]But when you heard her frame finally succumb[/align]

[align=center]It was not because of freedom[/align]

[align=center]That she squealed her writhen song[/align]

[align=center][/align]

[align=center]What has happened to my inheritance,[/align]

[align=center]You now ask?[/align]

[align=center]When the residues of her dissolved[/align]

[align=center]Like white ash[/align]

[align=center]And the wind whisked her away[/align]

[align=center]Leaving the scent only of mace[/align]

[align=center]Can’t you see?[/align]

[align=center][/align]

[align=center][/align]

[align=center]Your would-be kingdom fell the day[/align]

[align=center]He clenched, tightly seized [/align]

[align=center]The most faithful[/align]

[align=center]"To let her off" [/align]

[align=center]"Make her go!"[/align]

[align=center]"What good was she?"[/align]

[align=center]"Not worth the task[/align]

[align=center]So was your mother[/align]

[align=center]His shadow to surrender[/align]

[align=center]Because another blood flew in her[/align]

[align=center]Her type were the Noirs[/align]

[align=center][/align]

[align=center]And half of you is she, you see[/align]

[align=center]But do you know your other?[/align]

[align=center]Of the native kind[/align]

[align=center]In Niamey, Niger? [/align]

[align=center][/align]

[align=center]Goaded on by his own mother[/align]

[align=center]Against a people of the corner[/align]

[align=center]Her people, yours true![/align]

[align=center]Stripped down, unveiled, unmasked[/align]

[align=center]For all she was not[/align]

[align=center]His better half[/align]

[align=center][/align]

[align=center][/align]

[align=center]So what has happened to your well you still ask?[/align]

[align=center]Now the water has stopped pouring [/align]

[align=center]From his fragile flask[/align]

[align=center]And the handle that was torn[/align]

[align=center]Away from his black kettle[/align]

[align=center]His weaker vessel[/align]

[align=center]A damsel to bend the back[/align]

[align=center][/align]

[align=center]No, she coughed, you see![/align]

[align=center]Yes she piped [/align]

[align=center]She popped,[/align]

[align=center]Eclipsed indeed![/align]

[align=center][/align]

[align=center]Who could have told the chief?[/align]

[align=center]Of his position with no heir[/align]

[align=center]That before the vessel came crashing [/align]

[align=center]His only hope,[/align]

[align=center]His kingdom was divided as spoils [/align]

[align=center][/align]

[align=center]His living well was well, exposed![/align]

[align=center]The locals of his hold thirsty [/align]

[align=center]The remains of the drinking bowl[/align]

[align=center]Blewto enemies[/align]

[align=center]The people his mother cursed[/align]

[align=center]The shadows he barked at[/align]

[align=center]Now they talk back[/align]

[align=center]"Drink from us [/align]

[align=center]And taste your own mercy"[/align]

[align=center][/align]

[align=center][/align]

[align=center]This is your inheritance [/align]

[align=center]Son of his well[/align]

[align=center]This is your piece [/align]

[align=center]Hot and hollow[/align]

[align=center]All of him, and his shells [/align]

[align=center]That are found worthless[/align]

[align=center]And he left hanging [/align]

[align=center]Histoungelying to you:[/align]

[align=center][/align]

[align=center]"Fathers are the ones that eat unripe[/align]

[align=center]Grapes, but it is the teeth of the sons that [/align]

[align=center]Get set on edge." * [/align]

[align=center][/align]

[align=center]How will you drink now?[/align]

* taken from Ezekiel 18:1 (the Bible)

Wrote it to blow off some steam as I do. As of yet I have not a reply from AI, but I thought Id put it here. Reviews would be appreciated.

Burning Monk

Burning Monk · (#2 (**permalink**))

This wraps up, and is my second entry for the Amnesty International contest - stop violence against women 2005.

(By the term Babes I don't mean to say funky female, but babe as in unlearned or child-like. What Christ meant when he said "out-of-the mouth of babes")

As for the use of x, and y’s
Remember x's and y axis you learnt in maths?.. or are we taking about x/y chromosomes?

EQUATION TO BABES

X assemblies the mass of weapons
X says for your own good

X Assesses the tools to do
Runs it like a rule

But why give in?
Y give him?
You are worth?
Answer please?

X gathers game for a dinner
Can’t ask why, don’t say where
X rakes it makes it, takes it the bread winner
For all home for them there

X promises x folks of a voyage
Before x was missing, changing
Fading
x warned off x folks off the storage

The same that x was taking

Why X crossed with y?
Under the Cross of Holy matrimony
As one flesh
In one name

Then why pick his up
Lick
Ex up?!
Hitch
Y?

Get up now
Make your own rules
Catch up,
Up
Find him quick
Summon yourself
And get your answer

Burning Monk

Burning Monk · (#3 (**permalink**))

Looking back to my first entry I realise how difficult it may be to read, because it scrolls down too long a bit. To make it easier on the eyes I have edited it.

Because we live in a post-structuralism/ post-modern age of literature I don’t feel I need to get into why I don’t have this in traditional verse/stanza rhyme style. But I hope that the content if studied of felt speaks for itself. I think the content goes beyond the style in this case, though I am using a style I fancy. Anyway, this is highly metaphorical so I wouldn’t advise trying to figure out what is meant by something or another. But rather what could it mean, knowing what you do about servitude, and the female sex as they are said to be; the weaker vessel.

In addition to that rural kingdoms, and father based inheritance. There are a lot of themes explored here, but parts of the facts were based on BBC WORLD-like reports on Niger servitude.

Remember the scripture in the book of Joshua, how the weaker people would be hewers of water and stone? Such is reality.

Still the poem is a myth.

UNCLAIMED

Holds to the bowl
Of a chief’s house has snapped
His living stream
Ceased pouring from the flask,
What has happened
To my inheritance
His son now asks?

What has happened?
The day you heard the sound of creaking echoes
Echo back piercing through your anvil?
It was the weaker vessel of your home
Some thought, he had a grip
But when you heard her frame finally succumb
It was not because of freedom
That she squealed her writhen song

What has happened to my inheritance,
You now ask?
When the residues of her dissolved
Like white ash?
And the wind whisked her away
Leaving the scent only of mace
Can’t you see?

Your would-be kingdom fell the day
He clenched, tightly seized
The most faithful;
"To let her off"
"Make her go!"
"What good was she?"
"Not worth the task!"

So was your mother
His shadow to surrender
Because another blood flew in her
Her type were the Noirs
And half of you is she, you see
But do you know your other?
Of the native kind
In Niamey, Niger?

Goaded on by his own mother
Against a people of the corner
Her people, yours true
Stripped down, unveiled, unmasked
For all she was not
His better half

So what has happened to your well you still ask?
Now the water has stopped pouring
From his fragile flask
And the handle that was torn
Away from his black kettle
His weaker vessel
A damsel to bend the back

No, she coughed, you see!
Yes she piped
She popped through heat,
Eclipsed indeed!

Who could have toldyour latechief?
Of his position with no heir
That before the vessel came crashing
His only hope,
His kingdom was divided as spoils
His living well was well, exposed!

The locals of his hold thirsty
The remains of the drinking bowl
Blew to enemies
The people his mother cursed
The shadows he barked at
Now they talk back
"Drink from us
And taste your own mercy"

This is your inheritance
Son of his well
This is your piece
Hot and hollow

All of him, and his shells
That are found worthless
And he left hanging
His tounge lying to you:

"Fathers are the ones that eat unripe
Grapes, but it is the teeth of the sons that
Get set on edge." *

How will you drink now?

* this bit was taken from Ezekiel 18:1 (the Bible)

I like the first line of the poem.

Burning Monk