death of a martyr

from a long time ago found this thought it was worth throwing out there :)

 

Death of a martyr

 

Sat in this cell, is like living in hell,

They’ll never let me out,

The louder I scream, the less I’ll be seen,

So I’ve learned how, not to shout,

I’m sick of this bucket; they won’t let me chuck it,

So I threw it all over the walls,

The smell is intense; it makes no bloody sense,

And still, they won’t answer my calls,

They’ve taken my clothes, for god only knows,

I sit here naked and bare,

A tin plate on the floor, behind that solid door,

I’m refusing to taste their fayre,

I sleep on the ground; it’s where I am found,

For they have now taken my bed,

Cold and alone, shook to the bone,

I think that I soon, I’ll be dead,

They’ve taken my all, in the hopes I will fall,

And agree to their little plan,

Soon they will see, my mind is set free,

They’ll learn the resolve of this man,

With clean sheets I woke, a doctor he poked,

A needle right into my arm,

Asked me to eat, the taste of defeat,

Before I would, do myself harm,

Yet locked in my cell, its heaven not hell,

It is them who sit and observe,

While they kneel down, under that British crown,

I for one will not serve,

Keep yer food and yere bed, I’d rather be dead,

Than give up my right to be free,

For a simple request, put you all to the test,

Pride was all you could see,

I’ve had my last shave; I go now to my grave,

For freedom I made my last stand,

I made it my fight; I fought for the right,

I die free for my Ireland.

Christy O'Donnell ,Humour in Poetry.: strong roots

Christy O'Donnell ,Humour in Poetry.: strong roots: Strong roots   When an acorn falls, and takes root, It hugs the ground, with all it’s might, Soon appears, a tiny shoot, ...

strong roots

Strong roots

 

When an acorn falls, and takes root,

It hugs the ground, with all it’s might,

Soon appears, a tiny shoot,

Its grip on the earth, hiding from sight,

 

From then, all it takes is time,

As we did, on the day we met,

Growing, into something sublime,

Our roots are strong, so don’t you fret,

 

Branches spread, as cover my dear,

Sheltering, all who dwell below,

You and I need have no fear,

Our grip gets tighter, as we both grow,

 

The passage of time, shows us strong,

Growing, like a fine oak tree,

Whose root is deep and grows ever long,

My love, you mean the world, to me,

 

And so,,,,,,

 

Should the ground beneath us, shake?

Our oak is rooted, on solid ground,

This love, has never been at stake,

Like that oak our love forever bound.