I am not a silent poet

I sit in an ambulance
shaken, uncertain.
Strangers tell me
I am safe now.
I wipe warm blood
from my brow but
cold images remain.
Panic all around me.
People scream.
I hear crying.
I sense fear.
There is shouting.
I sit quiet.
More children arrive.
I am told my friend
will no longer be
able to play with
me among
rivers of

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I am not a silent poet

When he was first caught,

they laid him supine on cold floor

and with their boots on repeatedly

jumped on his chest till a rib cage

broke and pierced lung collapsed.

But he never squealed;

not another’s whereabouts compromised

nor a single real name revealed.

This poem pays tribute to all the brave victims of human rights violations in the Philippines during the martial law era under the Marcos dictatorship. The late president Ferdinand Marcos declared martial law on September 21, 1972, and lifted it on January 17, 1981. Currently, the Philippine government – for whatever reasons — has scheduled a hero’s burial for the remains of the late dictator President Ferdinand Marcos.



Karlo Sevilla’s poems have appeared or are forthcoming in I am not a silent poet, Philippines Graphic, Philippines Free Press, Eastlit, Radius, Indiana Voice Journal, Pacifiqa, Spank the Carp, Rat’s Ass Review, Quatrain.fish, Shot Glass Journal, The…

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How to marry Mr Rich
is the title of a book
published through Amazon Kindle
written by a woman named Melody Summers

and I suppose
was written
(or at least I hope)
to be controversial

for the views in the text

are rather special

Melody Summers
believes in women
finding a rich man
to take care of her
and children

naturally in
the introduction
I found my blood
begun to boil –

almost every woman

dreams of marrying a man
who can afford a luxurious lifestyle
diamond wedding ring and dreamy
honeymoon –
do you know the reality?

you can find this man

whilst shopping

at your job

walking the dog

at a nudist beach

or even at a Halloween costume party

in theory it is all well and good
many of us are aware that there are wealthy men in the world
with too much money…

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Lesley Quayle

Writers Against Prejudice


Every day the ocean stirs,
wearing its distances like sagging weights,
its H2O, soft rills or rearing breakers,
the ebb and flow a centuries old game
of Chinese whispers,
as drowned and drowning
murmur names and prayers, their voices
widening across the skin of water
in anguished shoals. 

Plucked from the sullen sea
a tiny shoe, a dripping toy, a photograph,
the carrion of broken boats and bodies
caulking the shoreline,
the latent dreamers,
the nameless hopers,
the no longer screaming,
the seekers after nothing more
than safeandsound. 

And this is their destination, in the cold pre-dawn
as stars crackle in their constellations,
after the thousand dangers of a journey,
they arrive, wet to their terrified bones,
washed up on the muttering tide
in their wreaths of kelp and algae,
lungs blistered with salt,
their eyes dead moons.
Hold out your hands – say “Welcome home.”

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Can I just sleep

When the thought of you

Carries me to clouds

Where sunlight dances

Magic on my skin

And the dreams of your lips

Rose petals of longing

Weave themselves into my forever

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Muslims, Jews, Christians all lived together in relative peace in Jerusalem, a center of what was then the Ottoman Empire. It was multi- cultural, open minded and peaceful. There was a film made way back in 1913 that reflected the beginning of change. This brilliant documentary is a MUST SEE if you wish to begin to get a larger understanding of what has happened since.

Absolutely beautiful poem about freedom, hope and the anxiety we all succumb to when our world fails us.

Tibet, Activism And Information

Sheng Xue, Prominent Activist For A Free ChinaImage: SFT Canada/Edited @tibettruth

Sheng Xue a respected and renowned activist for human rights and freedom presented recently a poem she composed titled ‘Light Me Up’ dedicated to those brave Tibetans who sacrifice their lives to demand national freedom for Tibet.

I opened my eyes in the morning
The room is dark.
I opened the window to welcome the gentle wind
The sky is dark.
I opened the door to greet the wild wood
The mountain is dark.
My heart opens to embrace freedom,
in a world dark and hard.

I didn’t want much,
to hope the yak in the mountains can freely run.
That the eagle can crown the turqoise sky,
to hear the monks chanting in the temple.
I just want to see His Holiness at least once in my life time.
I keep them as dreams in my heart, I don’t dare to ask.

But there is…

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