• Looking for recommendations to get my poems copyrighted and published!!
    Looking for recommendations to get my poems copyrighted and published!!
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  • This Woman's Brain Is Full Of Kakah. She lies now without even thinking about it. It's like interpreting Rorschach Inkblot Psychological Test or Morse Code; whatever she first thinks something is, she chooses the opposite, maybe because she doesn't trust her own judgement anymore?
    https://thepostmillennial.com/watch-pelosi-reads-poem-by-bono-about-ukraine-blames-putin-for-gas-prices?utm_source=deployer&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=newsletter&utm_term=1259
    This Woman's Brain Is Full Of Kakah. She lies now without even thinking about it. It's like interpreting Rorschach Inkblot Psychological Test or Morse Code; whatever she first thinks something is, she chooses the opposite, maybe because she doesn't trust her own judgement anymore? https://thepostmillennial.com/watch-pelosi-reads-poem-by-bono-about-ukraine-blames-putin-for-gas-prices?utm_source=deployer&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=newsletter&utm_term=1259
    THEPOSTMILLENNIAL.COM
    WATCH: Pelosi reads poem by Bono about Ukraine, blames Putin for gas prices
    "I got this message this morning from Bono," Pelosi said, before reading his words. "Ireland's sorrow and pain is now the Ukraine and Saint Patrick's name is now Zelenskyy."
    3
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  • TRUMP RECITES THE POEM " THE SNAKE ". YOU HAVE GOT TO HEAR THIS AND SHARE TO ALL !!
    https://youtu.be/qSrOXvoNLwg
    TRUMP RECITES THE POEM " THE SNAKE ". YOU HAVE GOT TO HEAR THIS AND SHARE TO ALL !! https://youtu.be/qSrOXvoNLwg
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  • TRUMP RECITES THE POEM " THE SNAKE ". YOU HAVE GOT TO HEAR THIS AND SHARE TO ALL !!
    https://youtu.be/qSrOXvoNLwg
    TRUMP RECITES THE POEM " THE SNAKE ". YOU HAVE GOT TO HEAR THIS AND SHARE TO ALL !! https://youtu.be/qSrOXvoNLwg
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  • I wanted to share this poem I wrote 20 years ago. Hope y'all enjoy it.
    What It Was 19 January 2001 by Leah Elam

    What it was was The Most Innocent Spirit come to Earth to a Most Immoral Situation,
    To Rise above Every Evil, Toil, Tempting, Mocking Curse to Heal a Hurting Nation.
    What it was was This Awesome Power Too Mighty for Mere Mortals to Comprehend,
    The Kind that comes from Dreamers, Longing Weavers of Lore, which most could not Begin
    To Fathom in Deeper Imaginations the Machinations of its Forthcoming Over Their Harsh, Ever Hardening, Idol Worshipping Creations that stemmed their Tide of Fearsome Forebodings,
    Much of their Old World so Vastly Foreign that it Begat the Terror of Lauded Kings.
    T’was no understanding beyond their sleeping mats but what the fat Followers Brings
    Handsomely paid Fortune-Tellers, Sooth-Sayers, Loh Voo Doo Makers High Revered.
    What it was was the Beginning, an Event Undeclared ‘Til Its Lofty Time Appeared
    Naught it was for them to Claim to Defame the Name of The One they never knew of,
    The One who would gift to them the Holy Realm’s refrain, Magistrating a Much Higher Love,
    For Thus it was so Pre-Ordained by a power they heretofore had not Sought to Reckon with,
    That all the Earth would Cower, yea every Hour to Behold The Spirit moving on Kin and Kith
    With the Message seedlings planted steadfastly as a passing thought from Where They Could
    Not say, except that they Knew it not to be Ghastly nor casting doubts in their Hearts of Wood
    What it was was a lesson for the Beginner, the Sinner turning Outward toward the Warm Light
    Of a Love the Best of Scribes could never Tether with their Quills and Swills of Learned Might
    What it was was Suspense like no other, Closer than a lover that Tested all they Held Dear
    Respecting all they Reverenced, Child, Mother, Doting Father, This Love they could not Go Near.
    What it was was Some Mysterious and Unexplainable, Unrestrainable Evidence of Agape Love
    Making Scholars Furious at a Highly Palpable, Likely Flammable, Heartbeat of an Unseen Dove.
    Doves they had Learned of, Doves they Knew of, but This Showered them with Shivers of Delight
    Tinged with Fright, a Franchisement Far Above every effort they Empowered with Mental Might.
    So, What might Help them? Who Would Teach them? Principally Whose Wisdom should they seek?
    Certainly not the Flighty Young nor the Seraphim, Not the Informed Old Men nor the Lowly Meek
    They that Plow the Hardened Fields what Wields a Body’s Proud Domain know only Nature’s Ways
    Which Create for them Their Daily Meals and Market Deals, far from them a Pridely Scholar stays.
    What it was was this Wonderment, a Merriment of the Heart they could not contain But in their
    Pride they tried to hide Nights spent in Torment turning over Fancy after Fancy in Blackened Air.
    What must it all Mean? ‘Tis surely more than Dreams, though it wears the robe of a Netherworld
    Can it feed us? Yes, it may, or surely so it seems. But to Whom are we indebted, oh what mark to furl?
    The King would have Said Had he Designed so bold a Plan and we would have felt his wrath Before
    For Laws we know of and are often told of by our King’s Strongmen. If not the King, then Who More?
    The Babies who Cannot Speak? Animals we Cannot Tweak? We Listened but have We Heard?
    What it was was a Message to the Human Heart, to a Human Part that must See in order to Believe,
    A Most Marvel Truth to Impart the Start of Charity and Mercy, Demystifying Our Sins’ Reprieve.
    What it was was a Private Miracle, THE MIRACLE, Likened Only to Creation Itself
    What it was was a Perfect Man named a Debacle, Perhaps a Fossil of Humanity Long Bereft
    Bringing to Us Our Only Hope of Life Everlasting, Passionate Belief In A Hereafter
    With Song In Our Souls As Far As The Mind Can See, Freedom From Our Grief, Bringing Genuine Laughter
    And Joy and Peace Beyond Human Understanding, no reprimanding for Our Excitement and Release
    To Know We Have Gifts Beyond Measure, Treasures to Store Up In Heaven That Awaits our Feasts.
    That’s What It Was.
    I wanted to share this poem I wrote 20 years ago. Hope y'all enjoy it. What It Was 19 January 2001 by Leah Elam What it was was The Most Innocent Spirit come to Earth to a Most Immoral Situation, To Rise above Every Evil, Toil, Tempting, Mocking Curse to Heal a Hurting Nation. What it was was This Awesome Power Too Mighty for Mere Mortals to Comprehend, The Kind that comes from Dreamers, Longing Weavers of Lore, which most could not Begin To Fathom in Deeper Imaginations the Machinations of its Forthcoming Over Their Harsh, Ever Hardening, Idol Worshipping Creations that stemmed their Tide of Fearsome Forebodings, Much of their Old World so Vastly Foreign that it Begat the Terror of Lauded Kings. T’was no understanding beyond their sleeping mats but what the fat Followers Brings Handsomely paid Fortune-Tellers, Sooth-Sayers, Loh Voo Doo Makers High Revered. What it was was the Beginning, an Event Undeclared ‘Til Its Lofty Time Appeared Naught it was for them to Claim to Defame the Name of The One they never knew of, The One who would gift to them the Holy Realm’s refrain, Magistrating a Much Higher Love, For Thus it was so Pre-Ordained by a power they heretofore had not Sought to Reckon with, That all the Earth would Cower, yea every Hour to Behold The Spirit moving on Kin and Kith With the Message seedlings planted steadfastly as a passing thought from Where They Could Not say, except that they Knew it not to be Ghastly nor casting doubts in their Hearts of Wood What it was was a lesson for the Beginner, the Sinner turning Outward toward the Warm Light Of a Love the Best of Scribes could never Tether with their Quills and Swills of Learned Might What it was was Suspense like no other, Closer than a lover that Tested all they Held Dear Respecting all they Reverenced, Child, Mother, Doting Father, This Love they could not Go Near. What it was was Some Mysterious and Unexplainable, Unrestrainable Evidence of Agape Love Making Scholars Furious at a Highly Palpable, Likely Flammable, Heartbeat of an Unseen Dove. Doves they had Learned of, Doves they Knew of, but This Showered them with Shivers of Delight Tinged with Fright, a Franchisement Far Above every effort they Empowered with Mental Might. So, What might Help them? Who Would Teach them? Principally Whose Wisdom should they seek? Certainly not the Flighty Young nor the Seraphim, Not the Informed Old Men nor the Lowly Meek They that Plow the Hardened Fields what Wields a Body’s Proud Domain know only Nature’s Ways Which Create for them Their Daily Meals and Market Deals, far from them a Pridely Scholar stays. What it was was this Wonderment, a Merriment of the Heart they could not contain But in their Pride they tried to hide Nights spent in Torment turning over Fancy after Fancy in Blackened Air. What must it all Mean? ‘Tis surely more than Dreams, though it wears the robe of a Netherworld Can it feed us? Yes, it may, or surely so it seems. But to Whom are we indebted, oh what mark to furl? The King would have Said Had he Designed so bold a Plan and we would have felt his wrath Before For Laws we know of and are often told of by our King’s Strongmen. If not the King, then Who More? The Babies who Cannot Speak? Animals we Cannot Tweak? We Listened but have We Heard? What it was was a Message to the Human Heart, to a Human Part that must See in order to Believe, A Most Marvel Truth to Impart the Start of Charity and Mercy, Demystifying Our Sins’ Reprieve. What it was was a Private Miracle, THE MIRACLE, Likened Only to Creation Itself What it was was a Perfect Man named a Debacle, Perhaps a Fossil of Humanity Long Bereft Bringing to Us Our Only Hope of Life Everlasting, Passionate Belief In A Hereafter With Song In Our Souls As Far As The Mind Can See, Freedom From Our Grief, Bringing Genuine Laughter And Joy and Peace Beyond Human Understanding, no reprimanding for Our Excitement and Release To Know We Have Gifts Beyond Measure, Treasures to Store Up In Heaven That Awaits our Feasts. That’s What It Was.
    2
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  • A different take on an old poem
    A different take on an old poem
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  • Martin Niemöller Poem

    They came for the Communists, and I
    didn’t object – For I wasn’ta Communist;

    They came for the Socialists, and I
    didn’t object – For I wasn’t a Socialist;

    They came for the labor leaders, and I
    didn’t object – For I wasn’t a labor leader;

    They came for the Jews, and I didn’t
    object – For I wasn’t a Jew;

    Then they came for me –And there was no one left to object.

    Martin Niemoller, German Protestant Pastor,
    1892-1984
    Martin Niemöller Poem They came for the Communists, and I didn’t object – For I wasn’ta Communist; They came for the Socialists, and I didn’t object – For I wasn’t a Socialist; They came for the labor leaders, and I didn’t object – For I wasn’t a labor leader; They came for the Jews, and I didn’t object – For I wasn’t a Jew; Then they came for me –And there was no one left to object. Martin Niemoller, German Protestant Pastor, 1892-1984
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  • Martin Niemöller Poem

    They came for the Communists, and I
    didn’t object – For I wasn’ta Communist;

    They came for the Socialists, and I
    didn’t object – For I wasn’t a Socialist;

    They came for the labor leaders, and I
    didn’t object – For I wasn’t a labor leader;

    They came for the Jews, and I didn’t
    object – For I wasn’t a Jew;

    Then they came for me –And there was no one left to object.

    Martin Niemoller, German Protestant Pastor,
    1892-1984
    Martin Niemöller Poem They came for the Communists, and I didn’t object – For I wasn’ta Communist; They came for the Socialists, and I didn’t object – For I wasn’t a Socialist; They came for the labor leaders, and I didn’t object – For I wasn’t a labor leader; They came for the Jews, and I didn’t object – For I wasn’t a Jew; Then they came for me –And there was no one left to object. Martin Niemoller, German Protestant Pastor, 1892-1984
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  • Martin Niemöller Poem

    They came for the Communists, and I
    didn’t object – For I wasn’ta Communist;

    They came for the Socialists, and I
    didn’t object – For I wasn’t a Socialist;

    They came for the labor leaders, and I
    didn’t object – For I wasn’t a labor leader;

    They came for the Jews, and I didn’t
    object – For I wasn’t a Jew;

    Then they came for me –And there was no one left to object.

    Martin Niemoller, German Protestant Pastor,
    1892-1984
    Martin Niemöller Poem They came for the Communists, and I didn’t object – For I wasn’ta Communist; They came for the Socialists, and I didn’t object – For I wasn’t a Socialist; They came for the labor leaders, and I didn’t object – For I wasn’t a labor leader; They came for the Jews, and I didn’t object – For I wasn’t a Jew; Then they came for me –And there was no one left to object. Martin Niemoller, German Protestant Pastor, 1892-1984
    0 Comments 0 Shares
  • Martin Niemöller Poem

    They came for the Communists, and I
    didn’t object – For I wasn’ta Communist;

    They came for the Socialists, and I
    didn’t object – For I wasn’t a Socialist;

    They came for the labor leaders, and I
    didn’t object – For I wasn’t a labor leader;

    They came for the Jews, and I didn’t
    object – For I wasn’t a Jew;

    Then they came for me –And there was no one left to object.

    Martin Niemoller, German Protestant Pastor,
    1892-1984


    Martin Niemöller Poem They came for the Communists, and I didn’t object – For I wasn’ta Communist; They came for the Socialists, and I didn’t object – For I wasn’t a Socialist; They came for the labor leaders, and I didn’t object – For I wasn’t a labor leader; They came for the Jews, and I didn’t object – For I wasn’t a Jew; Then they came for me –And there was no one left to object. Martin Niemoller, German Protestant Pastor, 1892-1984
    0 Comments 0 Shares
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