July 7, 2016

Three poems by Kara D. Spain: "Era of the Hills," "A Wish: Written on occasion during a stormy day," and "On Dumping Tea in the Boston Harbor"

Kara D. Spain says she's an "indie poet with a style that is reminiscent of the Romantic poets of the 18th century, with a bit of an upgrade." She's previously published under a pen name by several publications (Red Fez, The Lightkeeper, The Tattooed Buddha, Women's Spiritual Poetry, and Felan). You can find her at her blog: http://lyrical-discovery.blogspot.com/


Photo Courtesy of Ken Allan Dronsfield

Era of the Hills

A time, distant in memory,
when romantic minds fled tyranny-
the sounds of nature beckoned,
in the call of the cricket and toad;
the sway of tulips and roses, rich in crimson glow,
and creativity burst forth in ideas that quickened the spirit

The hills of verdure, sang to man and woman;
their soothing melodies, like lullabies,
traveling on winds of liberty,
to sail the artistic mind,
upon a flying carpet, of imagination and dreams

A simplistic life of genuine love,
like the vine that winds itself around a coil of stability,
fostering growth for the youngling chute;
likewise, the hills infused vigor, to the visionary mind-
with unhinged eyes, loosed from tradition,
their hearts, married fertile innovation

An epoch, conducive to poetics,
lending insight to open hearts and hands-
A path of redemption, I pine for;
to stroll alongside, lyricists of acumen-
a return to the verdant hills and its songs of serenity,
that whistle across the gusts of time

A Wish: Written on occasion during a stormy day, July 23rd, 2015

Thunder rumbles, I love to hear,
how he speaks, kindly in my ear;
Lightning strikes, I humbly bow down,
his power is threatening, but I wear not a frown

If I but could, I’d hitch a ride,
hook onto a bolt of Zeus’ pride,
and take a trip among the stars,
I long to taste, their dust from afar

Where my mind escapes eternal damnation,
from greedy usurpation and flagellation;
To hold the universe, in the palm of my hand,
away from the need, to make a final stand

All of these, I do wish:
To climb the highest peak among the cosmos-
plumb the depths of Sheol,
and rescue those lost, in painful throws

Perhaps, this desire made clear in July,
will write itself upon an occasion in time;
Perchance, this moment in history,
will forever remember me, into infinity


On Dumping Tea in the Boston Harbor, December 16th 1773

Son’s of Liberty, gathered round!
Dumped the tea, watched it drown!
They repealed the Acts of such,
to tax their tea, they hated much

‘No taxation without representation’
to this they owed their separation,
from tyranny that sprung their identification,
in all out war, THE REVOLUTION

Forefather’s fought against a terrible foe,
despite looming trauma, with all its woes;
they chose freedom and liberty,
over dogma and hypocrisy
They abandoned their love of tea,
to the crashing waves of liberty;
in making a stand, they let Monarchy know,
they would not be ruled by this, their hated foe

Where are you now, Sons of Liberty?
Hath fear set in, of this they tricked,
with terrible news of lies and deceit?
Will you now sit idly by while they meet,
concocting schemes to keep us hung,
caught in a web of lies they’ve flung?

All in now! Off to the races!
To make a break, from evil’s traces-
to the finish line we must run with haste,
and disconnect ourselves,
from this 'inverted totalitarian state'

(Note: Inverted totalitarian state is a term borrowed from political philosopher Sheldon Wolin.}

~Kara D. Spain

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