Three Triolets

Triolet: Atheism

You sleep, you eat, you dump, you sleep,

Time after time, and then you die,
As helpless as the birds or sheep.
You sleep, you eat, you dump, you sleep.
And though you clamber from the deep
To grasp the beauties of the sky,
You sleep, you eat, you dump, you sleep,
Time after time, and then you die.

 

Triolet: Quicunque Vult

   Whosoever will be saved

Must embrace the Catholic Faith,
   Saints, street-hawkers, the depraved;
   Whosoever will be saved
   On his heart must wear engraved
“Triune God, be Thou my breath.”
   Whosoever will be saved
Must embrace the Catholic Faith.

 

Triolet: Remembrance

Loves long lost, like primrose scent,

Trouble remembrance year by year,
Heart-reminding what hearts then meant;
Loves long lost, like primrose scent,
With hoarded scoffs and joys are blent
So every laugh becomes a tear.
Loves long lost, like primrose scent,
Trouble remembrance year by year.

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© February 2015
 

Dhimmi to Axeman Said...

I posted a related poem, 'The Triumph of Islam,' on 24 April 2017 - it has been much visited. There is a link here.
   Dhimmis are non-Muslims forced to live as second-class (or worse) citizens under majority Muslim rule. Jizya is the special tax they must pay or face death, forced conversion or exile.

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Must I kneel in the dust for refusing to creep
   Beatenly behind the proud musselman?
      Dhimmi to axeman said;
Rosa Parks in the Confederate deep
   On the bus took a front seat and said, “I can,”
      Said dhimmi to axeman.

Must I daub a white cross on clothing and house

   Denouncing me as a second-class man?
      Dhimmi to axeman said;
Moses Kaan, yellow-starred, ill-fed as a louse,
   Climbed into cattle trucks, fulfilling a plan,
      Said dhimmi to axeman.

Must I pay jizya and know myself humbled

   Though my ill-lit quarter rots unrepaired?
      Dhimmi to axeman said;
Jorge Ribeiro through his favela stumbled,
   Taxed, beaten, then shot down, unspared,
      Said dhimmi to axeman.

Must I be silent about what makes for truth

   And bow meekly to the musselman’s claim?
      Dhimmi to axeman said;
Kim Keo in Phnom Penh’s year zero of wrath
   In the killing fields died with no hope and no name,
      Said dhimmi to axeman.

   Blood soaked the dust, no more was said,

   The axeman had struck the dhimmi’s head.

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© February 2015