Poets Against War continues the tradition of socially engaged poetry by creating venues for poetry as a voice against war, tyranny and oppression.

homepoemsnewsletterpoetry mattersdonatearchivescontact us

Mia 

40 years old
CA

Mia is the Editor of Tryst and not widely published.  She is quiet for the most part except when it matters.


Maiden Stone

I lift my lamp beside the golden door.--Emma Lazarus


I remind you of Helen
when you enter me
like a horse and little men
spill onto the streets bent
on pillage and mass destruction,
whose name begins with Al Quaeda,
Bin Laden, Don Nero, Herr Hitler until
history repeats itself.

You enter me like New York City
with its restaurants and glitz
smoky streets promising jazz
midnight cafes and open bars

eat at my tables, then
sleep with my wives and make friends
with their husbands, all the while
your beard and speech full of belch,
you whore of Babylon.

Where was Paris then, my red thorn,
my furnace, my roar, my loyal hounds
when faith on its knees,
was bruised and torn?

When you entered me
like a Statesman without enquiry,
without knocking, your Allahs
confused with graffiti
and the grime of industry

I could have huffed and puffed
and blown off your doors;
blown up your houses, your kids.

Instead, I prayed
for clean rain and forgiveness
that your children might know
the taste of clemencyŚnot mud,
god forbid.


POEMS OF THE MONTH
A showcase of best poems


CHAPBOOK
Poems by prominent poets


ARCHIVE
Poems of the week archive


SUBMIT A POEM
Participate in the movement

FIND A POEM
Search for poems