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In the Name of God بسم الله

Spriglief

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Everything posted by Spriglief

  1. This is my last post because I am no longer welcome here. I am not sorry for wearing out my welcome. My poems about Neda Soltan needed to be written. I'm only sorry in that censoring All my poems the moderators also censored dozens of great poems by other authors posted in the best of 2009, 2010, and 2011 selections. My apology is to these poets. I leaned so much and enjoyed all my time here. I wish everybody well.
  2. After her death a detractor told me Neda was just a flash in the camera’s lens. So, I’m here to prove them wrong. Neda Soltan's Stone Bullet scared Your stone bears your purity Your stone bears their hate And I have been accused of idolatry Praying at your martyr's grave. Basiji's Bullet Piercing so many hearts Tearing through your flesh Striping away the veil Your soul's innocents. The bullet Opened the wounds of my corruption Now my soul bears the acid of their hate So, I kneel at your martyr's grave Gasping at your beauty Here is Karbala. 2012 End: Neda Soltan's Vultures Oh Neda, We have gathered here for you It is not a proper burial It is not what you deserve But we have this great honor. Circling far above the fray Our harsh cries go unheard Long after your murderers departed We stand your vigil We have this great honor. Your people do not know Where they left you So they visit the desert It is our place We have this honor. We have seen … This is our service And we feed with hunger On the blood of your sacrifice Our honor. We were at Karbala And we are here for you Hungry for your sacrifice It is our service for you Allah Akbar! 2011 End Neda’s Coup D'oeil To the cheek a vast narrowing a focusing a smaller centering stroke of [the] eye Coup d'oeil. For each a notch The heroes of Persia The Strategos of Anatolia The charismatic of Alexandria's polis Each dies in the valley of one breath. An instrument Without adornment Reduced to its function The man becomes something less And another decides his purpose. Now on the sands of Karbala, The warrior cries for the child he has murdered. "Oh Allah, I did not want to kill her!" Neda, the girl in blue jeans, dies… On the streets of Tehran. 2010 End: Neda She fell Into the arms of those who loved her. Their hands covered Her bleeding heart To stop the martyr's blood. Neda, The girl in blue jeans Died at Kerbala In the streets of Tehran 2009 End:
  3. BARBARA FRITCHIE Written by John Greenleaf Whittier Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn, The clustered spires of Frederick stand Green-walled by the hills of Maryland. Round about them orchards sweep, Apple and peach tree fruited deep, Fair as the garden of the Lord To the eyes of the famished rebel horde, On that pleasant morn of the early fall When Lee marched over the mountain-wall,-- Over the mountains winding down, Horse and foot, into Frederick town. Forty flags with their silver stars, Forty flags with their crimson bars, Flapped in the morning wind: the sun Of noon looked down, and saw not one. Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then, Bowed with her fourscore years and ten; Bravest of all in Frederick town, She took up the flag the men hauled down; In her attic window the staff she set, To show that one heart was loyal yet. Up the street came the rebel tread, Stonewall Jackson riding ahead. Under his slouched hat left and right He glanced; the old flag met his sight. ³Halt!²--the dust-brown ranks stood fast. ³Fire!²--out blazed the rifle-blast. It shivered the window, pane and sash; It rent the banner with seam and gash. Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf. She leaned far out on the window-sill, And shook it forth with a royal will. ³Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag,² she said. A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, Over the face of the leader came; The nobler nature within him stirred To life at that woman's deed and word; ³Who touches a hair of yon gray head Dies like a dog! March on!² he said. All day long through Frederick street Sounded the tread of marching feet: All day long that free flag tost Over the heads of the rebel host. Ever its torn folds rose and fell On the loyal winds that loved it well; And through the hill-gaps sunset light Shone over it with a warm good-night. Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er, And the Rebel rides on his raids no more. Honor to her! and let a tear Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier. Over Barbara Frietchie's grave, Flag of Freedom and Union, wave! Peace and order and beauty draw Round thy symbol of light and law; And ever the stars above look down On thy stars below in Frederick town!
  4. Al-Mufeed, Don’t you feel strange that you have censored the word that proclaims your belief more than any other? This censorship, it should make you question the very ground your standing on. This word is not an obscenity. It is not a vulgarity. Yet, you have treated this word as if it were one. Your action only makes this word louder. It is my hope that ever tyrannical government on this planet will hear it. Thank you, for helping me. ***
  5. I like the TV series, "The Closer". Both gender researchers and members of the media have claimed that the series has "expanded the vocabulary of what is acceptable for women as seen through the lens of popular culture."[11] “We’ve certainly seen women in powerful positions before," says author and gender researcher Maddy Dychtwald, pointing out Angie Dickinson in 1974's “Police Woman,” and “Cagney & Lacey” from 1981. But those women were largely token in a sea of dominant males, and most important, strove to be like the men that surrounded them.” In contrast, Dychtwald says the former CIA interrogator played by Kyra Sedgwick, “retains (and revels in) her femininity, keeps her composure, can handle the two 'sexist pigs' who bait her due to their jealousy and insecurities, and not lose her head.”[11]
  6. Loved his stories. They made you think.
  7. Shadow of Light, a link for those may not know: http://www.navideshahed.com/en/index.php?Page=definitionnews&UID=346819
  8. Neda Soltan’s Stone Bullet scared Your stone bears your purity Your stone bears their hate And I have been accused of idolatry Praying at your martyr’s grave. Basiji’s Bullet Piercing so many hearts Tearing through your flesh Striping away the veil Your soul’s innocents. The bullet Opened the wounds of my corruption Now my soul bears the acid of their hate So, I kneel at your martyr’s grave Gasping at your beauty Here is ***. The Image: http://www.google.co...8Q9QEwBA&dur=17
  9. The sword has not been a serious weapon on the battlefield or over a century now, but as a metaphor is has lost none of its power. I think I can translate this poem in six words, “One heart, one mind, one sword.”
  10. Thank you pinkyaliya, I am so glad somebody is giving the 2011 poetry it's due. It looks like the selection is still going on. Maybe I can even make selections. Anyway, I have sent a note to find out. If not, maybe the Mods can move it to the top like they have done for the other years selections.
  11. I did not start our annual poetry selection during the normal time because I was hoping someone else would step forward and run it. If anyone would like to run it this year I would be happy to assist them or even better, just step aside. However, if no one volunteers I will begin the selections for the most selected poetry of 2011 as I have done for 2009 and 2010 next week. Still, I think it is time for someone else to run the contest. Remember, the reason for the contest is to give the best of Shiachats poets and poetry more readings.
  12. Great idea Comrade, then when the people who keep defacing her monument did it again maybe the criminals would this time be apprehended.
  13. If I ever do a rewrite, I'll be sure to include your monkeys Lebanese Princess. :)
  14. Glad you like it Pakman. The person I wrote it for did as well.
  15. I could see it in my minds eye. Very well done...
  16. Inspiration and ideas are contagious. If you want to be inspired then hang around with the inspired. If you don’t know anyone like that then read from inspired works or other media. You will know when it is in you, then.. wait for nothing and strike while the iron is hot. The biggest secret of writing is this, “writers write.” Put the pen on the paper or the fingers on the keyboard and let it come out. Sometimes, you have to let the pen do the writing. I believe the really inspired are nothing more than God’s instrument.
  17. Injustice happens when good men and women do nothing but whisper, shake their heads, and pass on. Evil triumphs when good men and women do wrong in an attempt to make something right.
  18. Amazon Love You are an equator sun That burns my soul everyday Every night a sultry summer heat Moving in lazy breezes My eternal Amazon love I exist in this furnace of love. You are as the jungle’s verdant carpet Whose vines twist into every heart’s crevice Your vegetation moving up To capture the suns rays This towering canopy I exist in the shade of your love. My soul cries for you In song of exotic birds In vast unseen numbers A sound that permeates my existence This Amazon love grows and I sing My carouse is a humming bird’s heartbeat.
  19. What is Missed My Valentine How inadequate texting Much rather: The language of whispers Husky in its need Low in its intimacy Sharp in its urgency. The language of eyes That cast themselves down That escapes scrutiny Then, matching in intensity. The language of hands Twirling locks of hair Neatly folded on lap Butterfly flutterings. The language of scent Choicest perfumes Tang of excitement Breathe of love. XxxxX
  20. There were thousands of people on the streets that day, young, old, male, female, but her murderer picked Neda to make his statement. What was it about her that made him pick her? Was it her beuatiful face, was it because she was an innocent, or was it because her Islamic dress included a pair of blue jeans? Lots of people were on the streets protesting, trying to speak, making a statement, but what was the gunman trying to say when he made his statement by killing her? I want to know why has no one judged the gunman like many want to judge poor Neda. Still, if anyone wants to judge her for her own murder Wikipedia has most of the information you might need. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_of_Neda_Agha-Soltan
  21. Comrade, how about a small marker on the spot where she was murdered? How about the Iranian intelligence services who keep a constant watch over her grave stepping in and stopping the vandalism? How about charging the Basij milita man identified as the trigger man facing a jury of his peers in a court of law? Satyabin, thank you for your comments. Comrade, it might not be Mt. Rushmore, but sometimes I think I should travel to Iran and post my Neda poetry on the street where she was murdered. But I do not and so I stand helplessly on the side of Yazid. Millions stand with me, but as a coward I am all alone. "Karbala is everyday."
  22. So beautiful, the flow of words is a vehical that cannot but find its way.
  23. Sometimes I think the unjust have so much power is because in Allah's love he is giving these sinful persons every chance possible to do the right thing.
  24. Sure Haji, that man was judged by a jury of his peers under the law and he was exicuted after years of examination for error. Neda died under the judgement of one man, outside the law, with one moment of consideration. Both will recieve their reward from the ultimate authority.
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