Category: Politics

The Devil Hides

The Devil Hides

The District of Columbia
is not Caesar’s Rome
The Hill is not one of the seven
Yet the Senators
are as deadly and evil
as they were BC
Today the devil hides
and resides
in the hallowed halls of DC
With daggers cloaked
and unseen
Preparing to execute
their dastardly deeds
Hell is in our politics
disguised in grey hair
and old man suits
who stand on
the shoulders
of the good, strong women
they wish to control
Stifling their voices
Taking away their rights
To live in silence
Forever to be
a man’s possession

Copyright © 2022 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Punam is hosting D'Verse Poetics tonight and has prompted us to write about
good and evil.  I remembered an old poem I had written about US politics and
reworked it a little.

Image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay 

Refugee – A Quadrille


Salty tears fill vacant eyes
that have seen too many
atrocities that no child
should ever witness
Crying, following
grown ups wherever they go
Sobbing in time with
their shuffling feet
Weighed down
by their winter clothes
and bundled belongings
Going anywhere but here

Copyright © 2022 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Bjorn is hosting Monday Quadrille at D’Verse Poets.
Tonight he has prompted us with the word “Eyes”
I saw a heartbreaking segment in the news last night and it featured a little Ukrainian boy who couldn’t have been more than 3 or 4, sobbing his eyes out as he wandered along with the refugees. It touched me deeply.

Seventeen – In Memory of Trayvon Martin


What did you dream of?
What wonderful things did you imagine?
So young, so hopeful
Innocent still in the ways
of the wicked world you lived in
The opportunities at your feet
were just waiting for you to take the first step
Your family and friends beside you
Supporting you
on the way to adulthood

But your future was stolen
By a gun-toting, self-anointed
savior of peaceful communities
“How dare you be black in my neighborhood
and wear a hoodie?”, thought he
“Stop!”, he said, as you reached in your pocket
for your Skittles candy
You fought back the monster with your hands
but he killed you and just like that,
you were gone from this world

A silenced teenager with no ID
and no one to tell your story
A John Doe lying in the morgue
while parents agonized
over where you were
He let you lay bleeding to death
Because he wanted to
He wanted someone, anyone
that night
He was mighty whitey
and he decided it was ok
He robbed you of your life
and your mother of her son

Today, February 5th
you should have been
celebrating your 26th birthday
What would you have been?
A doctor, a lawyer, a husband,
a father, a friend.
We will never know because
an armed neighborhood watch coordinator
killed you claiming protection under
the Florida law, Stand Your Ground,
and got away with your murder

Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved
In memory of Trayvon Martin
February 5, 1995 - February 26, 2012
Aged 17
Murdered in Sanford, Florida while walking to his mother’s house in a gated community, by George Zimmerman, a neighborhood watch coordinator, . 

Rest in Peace
#Black Lives Matter

Word Prompts

Silence - RDP
Tell - FOWC

Wiki - The Shooting of Trayvon Martin

Yes America!

This is a great day in America! The votes have been counted and the people have spoken. Our beautiful diverse country has come together again in a united voice of love and respect for one another, because we are better that way. We say “Yes to love and no to hate”. Goodbye Trump. You will not be missed.

This Tweet and video cover today’s prompts, and more!

Jour - Stream of Consciousness
Diversity- RDP
Count - Word of the Day
Prolific - FOWC

How Many More Must Die? – Walter Wallace, Jr.

How Many More Must Die?

Your words
laid dormant
in your throat 
Trapped, unsafe
to release like a
cocooned butterfly
in harsh conditions
unable to escape
its prison
as doing so
would be unsafe
Your sounds, that
of pain and frustration
Not violence
Your illness was
not a crime
Needing help
and understanding
The color of your skin
Yet misread
and calculated 
as dangerous
You died from
their hatred, power
and systemic racism,
not fear
Fear is their
convenient crutch
Worn away from
over use
They looked you in the eye
With fire power pointed
at your heart
Ordering you to drop
a knife
When you did not
you were not
wounded or restrained
You were murdered
before your
grieving family
What is one more?
Two more?
Many, many more?
Enough, it is enough
we cry!
They refuse to hear
We shout our protests
but to be heard
we have to become
like them …
… then they will listen

Copyright © 2020 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Written in memory of Walter Wallace Jr.,
a young African American man suffering from Bipolar Disorder, who was killed by police in Philadelphia
on Monday, October 26, 2020.

Bjorn is hosting Open Link Night at D'Verse Poets

Climate Catastrophe

Climate Catastrophe

Sultry nights linger
long into the Fall
Humidity remains high
and bodies still
glisten with sweat

In the steamy south
rainy season is
alive and well
as boiling Gulf waters
scream for hurricanes

Questions unanswered
through a medium
of disinformation 
Some burying their head
in the silt of the bayou

Denying the obvious
and seeing life
through a prism of
man-made distortion 
and the art of the hoax 

Turning a blind eye
to the soon-to-be
irreparable damage
done to our world
by man’s selfishness

Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing © 


Sultry - Word of the Day
Prism - RDP
Medium - Stream of Consciousness
Scream - FOWC

I Protest

I Protest

Thoughts scrambled
in a head
heavy with fog
This cannot be happening
The death of democracy
is staring me
square in the eyes
Liberty and freedom
snatched from
the arms that
lifted those
too weary
too poor
too hungry
Our pride in country
The dumbing down
of a nation
willingly following
a pied piper
like blind fools
A cheap trickster
lining his pockets
from the coffers
of society
I am frozen
in time
watching helplessly
as a fascist
robs us of democracy
while spitting on 
our constitution
I protest
I protest
I protest
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©

Grace is hosting D'Verse Poets tonight
and she has prompted us with Protest Poetry

Clown in Chief

Clown in Chief

Crazy orange hair
whipped in a circle
and wrapped around
a block head
Tan lines
framing white eyes
Posing and pouting
with audience shrinking
Lashing out and lying
Demanding attention
Like a complete fool
who has misplaced
his red foam nose
You are nothing
but a clown
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©

Lisa is hosting D'Verse Poets tonight and
has prompted us with the word 'Clown'

Taking a Knee – Ironic

Like you I have struggled to find the words to respond to the horror of the murder of George Floyd before my very eyes. A man who allegedly tried to pass a counterfeit $20 bill was immediately regarded as a thief and killed without a trial or a chance to plead his case. Was he a threat to society? Did the police treat him this way for our own good? Absolutely not.

The irony of this story is he was killed by the knee of a policeman. If you remember it was just a few short years ago that quarterback Colin Kaepernick knelt during the national anthem in silent protest to the unjustified police killings of African Americans. His action was quickly adopted by many players in the NFL and every Sunday we saw them all taking a knee prior to the game. Kaepernick was promptly fired by the San Francisco 49ers and was ostracized by other teams who regarded him as an unpatriotic troublemaker and he never played in the NFL again. His career was ruined for protesting and highlighting that Black Lives Matter. Instead of acknowledging what he was protesting, his critics were deeply offended by his disregard for the flag and thought that was more egregious. “Taking a Knee” as it was referred to quickly picked up steam and it was adopted by many sports personalities. They became targets of Trump and were treated despicably.

Now a policemen has used his own knee to publicly take the life of an African American. Where is the justice?

Today I am ashamed of America.

Taking a Knee

We watched
as the horror unfolded
He lay helpless on the ground
Hands behind back
Cuffs binding wrists
Yet a knee on the neck
Arrogance and power
pressing down hard
Choking life from his body

Oh the irony of the knee!

Silent Sunday protests
Peacefully and respectfully
to police brutality
Taking a knee
Only to be

and threatened with
silent warnings

You take a knee
and our knee will
Take the breath
from your body

... and they did

Racism lives on
in the USA

Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©

Rest In Peace George Floyd, you will never be forgotten
and your death will not be in vain. #blacklivesmatter

RDP - For our good
FOWC - Thief

%d bloggers like this: