Saturday, April 30, 2016

Days To Come!

Days To Come!
by Seah Greenhorn
(poem with copyright)
Heard the roar
of rushing waters
rising centuries
to distant clouds.

Heard the screams;
the mothers retching
doubled over in piercing bows.

Ripped apart the hearts of many.
Grief in tragic overload.

Since: Toted carts of parts
of any
in caverns dark
their bodies blown,

after blood bought
then sold cheaply.
No one able
to them discern.

Or, the march over distorted bodies
mounting high on hills to burn.
Lacking urns to comfort gently
and send forth to all concerned.

This history recently increasing
veils mankind
no longer proud
of multitudes of peoples ending
enclosed in hateful
dreaded shrouds.

As they wailed or wept in sadness
from the Heavens
heard the groans.

Father and Son both bathed in goodness
in sympathy
they too sadly yearned
for the day
to end this madness.
For muddy waters to cease their churn.

Kept in memory, heart and mind
each and every precious person
to reestablish to humankind.
Each and every to be resurrected
in their turn and in His time.

Talents special He remembers.
Songs they sung from memory.
The day of birth their family members
gathered around in heartfelt glee.

divorces and tragedies.

These make up the composition
of ones confined at different levels;
decomposed in various degrees.

Yet, Almighty knows their makeup;
DNA specifically.

So imagine with eyes of reason
exhibiting strong solid Faith

this loyal love and integrity
of One Powerful
and so delighted
to finally as He foretold


righteous and unrighteous souls reunited:
His cherished recreated progeny.

Picture parades in circles, cycles
daily, weekly, under rotating suns.
Just the sounds of mirth and laughter
when a loved one does return
enthusiastically and totally welcome.
Minds accepting dear 'Truths' they'll learn.

These preparations all made in wisdom
for these ones
soon earth to come.

He Will Call
and They
Will Answer.

Oh! What Happiness
for Everyone!

Thursday, April 28, 2016

This Tailspin

This Tailspin

by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)


your love


thick, hungry.


may I
rail against putrid,
acid breathe?


may I,

in intense hysterics



Fearing winters
with you.

Without you.

I love you.
Loathe you.

Me. Especially.
Since I let you.

in thundering darkness
into open fields

Arms, mouth
wide, snide


"Lightening! Cleanse me!"

for lye to strip me


To enjoy the burn
my traitorous heart earned.

Then ...  to regurgitate this vicious liquid.
Spit it into your eyes, despised.


Release me;


I pray.

for you.



Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Pass Oceans of Anomosity

Pass Oceans of Anomosity

by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)


Wind to sail across harbors,
or through canals
to finally

Oceans of Anomosity.


My tongue; my pen
beloved. Entrusted to me. A gift.
My friend, if used wisely. In wisdom.


My Freedom?

To use these tools.
My desire: not them to abuse.
Use unwisely.

I kneel; I pray
so much more each day now,
as you refuse

my tongue; my pen
beloved. Entrusted to me. A gift.
My friend.

In this time in which we live,
even if I choose to speak lies unkindly,

I choose not,

My freedom is to use these tools.
My desire: not them to abuse. Use critically.

Yet, our tongues are torn, ripped away
sometimes shipped to Siberia. Our pens are stripped from our grips, although we did not panick in violent retaliating hysteria.

You bound/bind our hands
to keep blind
searching eyes.

With pity felt we're sorrowful inside.

For of what value, if you choose to hide wisdom. It rises to heights like Eagles to unseen; destinations unknown.

Its flight alone speaks consolingly beyond your breach. Since comfort preaches deep into crevices of humanity ... unappealing to you?

As meek ones ... shown. Humbled; law-abiding victims who love the law--God's and man's. This quality of life, perhaps ... frightening; foreign to you?

As sight to the blind and then back again
your wavering inconsistencies sway as turbulent winds.


Each tongue; each pen
beloved. Entrusted to each. A gift.
A friend, especially, if used wisely. In wisdom

His Word
is designed
to eternally individually

Everyone to love one another.
Hate what is bad. We are not terrorists.

We are kind and meek. We seek the peace of God that excels the mind.

Though you bind our tongues and chain our fingers behind our stalwart spines,

Wisdom will still other truth-seekers reach
as water to parched hearts and bread to the famished in growing impatient lines.

our desire?

Not to antagonize.

Divided you are. Some apologize; since a part of a united mankind groaning.

Our eyes often fill, then again dry with your weighty duties given to defend, protect nations imperfectly driven.

But, why are our tongues and pens
ones you mark suspicious; suspect?

Why are our freedoms the ones you choose to neglect?

If robbed of rights, where will others feel comfort to curl asleep at night? Should they too cower under cover in fright of liberties confiscated in broad daylight?

Their tongues; their pens
beloved. Entrusted to them. Gifts.
Friends, if used wisely. Or not.

For Wisdom:
For this Privilege
We, the victims,

Do Choose to LEGALLY Defend:

Our Tongue; our pens.
Beloved. Entrusted to us. Gifts.
Our Friends to use wisely. In wisdom.

Sunday, April 24, 2016

The Spoiled One Scorned

The Spoiled One Scorned

by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)


No fun...
except when first begun.

Cottled; then, stroked

in abundance.

Taught how to adorn my body;

to maneuver
when I smile.

Cause the many
to cross the miles.


I choke
when called upon
to perform

towards others;

not excluding family.

So worn out and torn by these duties.

To show sincere love and concern?

It burns.

Though, I do love, yet, hate
the ones who hamstrung me
from first born.

What's to become of me:
The Spoiled One scorned?

Thursday, April 21, 2016

Dear Mortals

Dear Mortals

by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)

An ever lengthening smoky train
traveling iron rails
transmitting high voltage
of celebrities who've curried fame

then jetting rockets sparked their name
as fleeting stars once overhung
and rising ones still overhang.

Black holes created from departed souls:
David, Vanity, Prince, Chyna
and vast many more

present to past

who knocked firmly
and Death answered.

No friend; yet he welcomes all
through his wide solid door with space enough to envelope the whole of humanity

If persisted
this course of insanity.

One black horse gallops
hard and fast. His speedy
hooves we can't out race.
Neither outlast.

Both young and old,
the strong, the weak,
the shy, and bold
eventually peace do seek

inside the casket.

transporting too
through vaults those who
the pale horse famine forced
into the house of mourning.

Still others bang
upon it's portals
without warning

riding tides
that flooded them,
trembling on earth
that swallowed them,
scorched by flames
that torched them.

This is what happens
to us:

Dear Mortals.

From dust we are...

But, from dust we will return...

To Be Continued....

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Triggerfish Fare

Triggerfish Fare

by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)

my skin caught on angry
thin razor teeth
slicing me
as human sushi.

Paddled away, I, horizontal and swiftly,
not quite the way natural fish fly, 
but confess I must, not deny
in salt water ignorance,
total fish school innocence,
my fins fanned the ire
of paternal fangs.
I can not lie.


The blue throat yellow fin gang
guarding 'gainst intruders intrigued
by blowing, fanning, rolling on eggs
spawned on sandy bottoms: sea.
by mothers blown
to hatch embryos grown
in twenty-four hours
I saw.

my presence known
threatened their familial goals.
(Since, shown
these bullies exist
in vacation spots.)

tigers mimic; 
as king fishes
aggressively maintaining
polygamous territories...

Fight's their personality.
I should've known.

So, I swam for fear
with frantic might.
They swam in rear
to hook me,
as prized possession--
human fare.

My sweat--
added inducement
for fish delight.

a delicacy
oily fatty,
but, ostensibly



by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)

We clicked.
Laughter. Fun. Lickety-split.

My house; your house
Forever on run.

Now wanted for murder.
"Just what have I done?"

What's that?"
Too late did I ask.

They listened; I talked.
In admiration I did bask.

Yet, what treasures
in heart; in mind?

Cared not to question.
They were to me kind.

Discussing goals,
morals in common?

Asking questions... rude.
Shown: Me ignorant. Bad karma.

Yet, here I stand
before sentence: judged.

"Your Honor!
Didn't know...

They held the grudge."

should've sought.



Should've bought.

Friday, April 15, 2016



by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)


howls; whispers; whistles;

is sometimes silent.

It whips and twirls;
shatters and destroys;

it soothes and cools.

It lifts up; throws down
light and heavy
to distant ground.


like with a leaf or feather
it can settle with ease.

Do I do these
with words... do relieve?

Like the wind goes;



hear you;
feel you;
appeal to you.

The Lord Knows
My desire:

His Love
In Beauty
to unseeing


77 words No more than 77 words, please write w/c in AN section.

If you choose to accept, please create a write about one of the gifts of being you, a thing that you bring to your table of life that leaves you feeling inspired!!  I would like to feel inspired to remember that there are beautiful people bringing beautiful things out I am hoping for a great turn out!© 2 hours ago, Lucretia Mccloud    love • friendship • spiritual

"It's Arms Towards Perfection"

"It's Arms Towards Perfection"

by Seah Greenhorn
(poem with copyright)
Across the world
past the Indian Ocean

exists a growing disillusioned
sea of humanity

more than a billion
also birthed
in our conjoined

abject misery.

Where once wistful words pinned
soared multitude's bright enlightened eyes
towards distant, still visible cloudless horizons or tranquil high skies

though others dived


who hide deep inside their murky hearts
through sad economical or racial pride.


men and women
both near and far;

black, white of hand?

Will social status continue to dominate our lands?

Or will a strong leader take a stand?

Relieve mankind of hatred ran
through depth and breathe
of even whirling blinding stinging desert sands?

Exists One who loves All?

Who knows our desires?
Who wishes to inspire

to attain that place

"where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;

where knowledge is free...

where words come out from the depth of truth"?

Will this exist?... Do we have proof?

Good leadership foretold to come
thousands of seasons rolled forth from the past. A wonderous proclamation thundering
from a minuscule hum.

Traversing valleys diverse and divided, a growing nation bridged by a happy and collective some of the most humbled.

Those who adversity overcome
through support and guidance.

The Time has arrived
for Peace... At Last!

The Messiah.
The Christ.

A King
by a Creator



A Lover

of each and every
Obedient One.

As we endure the scorch of blazing suns;

as we pray "God's will be done

on Earth
as it is

in Heaven"

and as we stay fixed on this Son,
who gave his life so that our race
might be successful and


Won. Here,

The Light is getting brighter.
The Way's become clearer.
The Paradise Earth

is so very near

and the Resurrection
of those we loved dear

In glorious rebirth!

Rabindranath Tagore,

you may see your words:
"tireless striving stretches it's arms towards perfection"

Will no longer require a longing
or a deep reflection.

For Mankind will soon
the Christ's
and Righteous


Thursday, April 14, 2016

Really ... Hot?

Really ... Hot?

by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)

Headline atrocities

tear seeing eyes,
tear humanity apart,

sear human hearts
in collective cries.

Yet, humanity


deserves a turn;

violent ones do earn
Opportunities to learn.

Though, stubborn's
an imperfect form-

'As a mule'
the phrase was born;

this caustic


to persistently adorn.


to conform

Eternally hot?

God is Love.

Never thought:
confine in embers


Satan's cruel
distasteful mind.

Burn in Sacrifice



Torture is Not.

Thursday, April 7, 2016



by Seah Greenhorn
(Poem with copyright)

In darkness I rise
In darkness I weep
In darkness daily
I walk; I sleep.

Solely in sadness
my constant fare.

No family to tend.
No heart to share.

This song of the orphan
Is heard in the heavens
by a Father that in sincerity

Totally Cares.

Though your road be rocky
Though you travel alone
Though in the distance
you envision no home

On the horizon ascending like dawn
A brilliant future. Though, even today

You do belong.

Many in dire circumstances too

Raise their eyes heavenly
to a Creator called
"the God of Comfort"
Who knows every step taken
and every tear wept.

As King David said,
in skin bottles kept.

Though our weights be heavy
In these paths we thread
through darkened alleys
demon-felt led
violently fed

And from real dangers we fearfully fled

We still can fill our hearts
with flavorful 'truths'
instead of just fantasies
adored by everyday youths.

The road, though tough
will lead to a time
of united families.


Those in God's mind
to cherish offsprings,
brothers and sisters,

through whom you became

An individual.

Never, rue the day of your birth.
The moment you entered
this wonderful,
though tragic-filled earth.


Only in that second you marvelously became, a child of a Spirit parent.


Always depend and call upon
this Glorious name.