Death of Moammar Gadhafi

I was so struck and intrigued by the images I saw of people lining up to see Moammar Gadhafi's body in Libya, so I decided to put myself in the line and try to feel what these people might have been feeling.

Death of Moammar Gadhafi

Standing body to body

in a line of hundreds

maybe thousands

curved and legged like a caterpillar

slowly stepping

one limb at a time

toward a victory, a reward

to prey upon

We are victims and now we victimize him

to take our place

to take our scars

If only we could see his lifeless, bruised body

then we could feel free

In line, we wait anxiously

for death to turn into life

Words

Here are two poems about the lovely topic of words. Enjoy!

1.

Words: I love and hate

For they hold power over me

to encourage and to destroy

to bring greatest joy

and to give greatest hate

tugging me onto either podium

happiness or hatred

I have given words this value

by putting them on such a level

that they define and evaluate

too much, of what is my value

2.

Words so many days

are too much

on our tongue, clinging to minds

that won't let them free

Is it just me or

do some words lodge into our being

while others float by

uninvited and unnoticed

Who determines what

we will remember

what stabs our ignorance and

what we say that's never heard

Maybe it's clearer

when we turn off our mouths

and find the words that fell away