Poetry 4 PEACE Now

my Sun is Orange

my morning Sun is orange

The yellow is stained

with the Blood of my People

for that is what we

are reminded of

each day

when it rises from the East

to greet the world

i see my world


we once lived with a hope

that the atrocities of Hate


and indifference

would go away

but it did not

my hope has been misplaced


and i can not remember

where i have set it down

it might have been that day

i lost my arm

or that day

when my Father was jailed

or that day

when my Sister was killed

she was only 3

no, i think i lost my hope

the day

my Mother no longer cried

her eyes have been dry

for many a year now

and somehow

by some grace

she still has enough love in her

to hug me

once in a while

through that pained smile

that still adorns her face

just so she won’t completely break

there is a noise i hear

it is a loud silence

that stays with me

through my callousness

for the gunfire

and the bombs

and the screams

i can not hear them


they have long ago

assaulted and killed

the dreams of my Family

my village

my people

and it is now working on


where is the sanity

in this methodology

to be found

every day is “Ground Zero”

where i live

every where i look

i see Ground Zeros

and we have lost count

of those who

are no more

because of what you call War

but you and i

never had a dispute

that i know of

If so, please tell me what i did wrong

to cause you harm

that you should exact such wretchedness

upon me

and others like me


i know not of the Politics

of it all.

i have never met a Politician

are they so different

than we the people ?

if it’s Oil

i give it to you

if it’s right

take it freely

i will not raise nor put my hand

against that

of my Father’s children

there was a time

when all i thought of

was simply

finding Joy in my life

i have since given up that quest

for i see far too much

of that other stuff

which deserves not a name

my Sun is no longer Yellow

but i do pray my Brother

that yours is

my Sun is Orange

This is dedicated to all the Villages, Peoples across our Globe who must endure the Politics and Sickness of War.


© 1 July 2013 : william s. peters, sr.

Same Song & Verse

I bang the same drum
a kettle with steam

day in
and day out
or so
it seems.

Like a fervent timpanist
out of control . . .
I know.


I know . . .

I may bother you
for banging
and clanging
on and on

it bothers me too

when humanity
is doused with a
cruel insanity.

The answer is near
and so very clear.

Love is all you need.

Let love reign
from me to you
and you to me:

and please

and roll

put out the flame
of hate

and quit

those unrealistic judgments
the delusional expectations
of others

our Sisters and Brothers

toss them
and swap them

for love
without expectations

the only
worth having
are love
and peace.

So, quit playing
those mind games
and you will see.

You will see . . .


quilted into
a continuous fabric
a beautiful reality.

Just, Let it be.
Let it be.

And as our
Brothers said

“All you need is love,
Love is the answer,
let it be.”


This I speak, to me.


© Janet P. Caldwell October 11, 2012

Tarnished Crown

Our heroes die...
mothers cry...
bullets fly...
50 years gone by
We buy ...
we bought
and sold a dream
and we are still

The land is wet with collective tears of Nations
trying to find solutions to this one Ideology.

No matter what religious perspective or political objectives...
we can find the middle ground if our thoughts sing the sounds of peace.

There is a Lennonism
I believe them
they called him John

Yesterday his dreams were so far away
but we can bring those dream close.

Cause I'd rather have strawberry fields replace battlefields
and hold hands with those who kneel and those who prostrate.

I would hold hands and sing old Negro spirituals
close my eyes and join in ancient Buddhist rituals
if this would bring peace to all the world

Cause we are the pearl of this crown jewel
we have tarnished it for ages...
and as we look
at all those
history pages
let's learn
from our mistakes

We need to do what it takes...
So let's
make this crown shine for peace.

By : Santos Taíno

For – Giving

In a lopsided
mostly divided
ǝpısdn uʍop
and ego centered world

we tend to self – contract
an illness to and from ourselves
called judgment
which we blindly
eat up . . . self – served.


But we have infected others too

our Sisters and Brothers
with our worldly
and weedy reasonings
where contagious seeds
were scattered and sown
blown here there and everywhere.

And usually without knowing
the full aspect of what has grown.

While we snoozed
our peace was misplaced
and we did lose
while this dis-ease ate away
our fleshy heart
and broke our brittle bones.

Ahhh, the ego is clever.

In judging others
we in fact judge ourselves
with untruths
that never hold water
in the long run.

The truth will be known.

Help us Father.
Help us Mother
to wash the smudges from our faces
when we trampled from place to place
with a ludicrous campaign
called hate . . .
abate, abate !

We are no-ones judge !
An ill placed blame
is not ours to parcel out.
We are ONE in and of the same.

I too had to learn
to forgive myself
for my reckless thoughts of you.


No more blame game please.
For I wish you joy and peace
and to always to be at ease
dis-ease free as was meant to be.

So, I walk in love and peace

self – forgiveness

yes, forgiveness is for you and me.


© Janet P. Caldwell August 26, 2013

the Garden of Even


there once was a Village

that had a Garden

where nothing but Love ever grew

the Fruits were Divine

what was mine was thine

this was what everyone knew


and then came a thought

which some sadly bought

that i was different from you

and to all of dismay

came forth the day

when this paradigm then became true


the children were confused

and some were used

to further the separation of self

and some gathered night

and held on quite tight

for they thought that things were wealth


and as time went on

the old life was gone

where they all lived simply as one

and wouldn’t you know

even their personal glow

was fading and almost done


but much to their mirth

the Mother called Earth

gave an awakening call

it was not for the few

but all that She knew

she called before the fall


now some did transcend

before the end

of this fictional story i tell

but within every myth

there is a sweet gift

that each may come and dispel


so please come on back home

to the garden you’re from

where all is balanced and square

the Garden of Even

where there is no needin’

for love indwells everywhere


(c) 2010 : Williams S. Peters, Sr.

Art by : Christine Von Lossberg

and feel no more

the echoes of anguish



and pain

still cry in the darkness

of the lack of light

and understanding

i cried that day

and i felt the pain

and sorrow

for us all

when that fateful call

went out

across the media


a plane


lost it’s way

and that picture

will forever stay

in our resonant memories


the divide

between our human family

exploded into our realities

in that surreal moment

and i could only feel



for it was inconceivable

that this could happen here

but it did

and the children who lost their best friend


and the parents

who lost children

in the interference

of our serene beliefs

that we were safe

from the terror of the world

and a new age was heralded in

when man again

had good reason

to hate himself

to hate his brother

to hate God

and Love Him too

but the True God they say

belonged to me and you

and the Red White and Blue

so we dressed in War Clothing

pulled out our Toys

sent our Boys

to die


promulgating war

on the defenseless

such as

the Mothers

and Wives

and Children

who are left behind

in Patriotic fear


if they would

ever see their dear

beloved Soldiers again

and the echoes of anguish

continue to reverberate

in the hearts of a confused peoples

a family of humanity

who still has yet to understand

the plan did succeed


and the seed

of our children

is in jeopardy

of losing its sanctity

as we reinforce this reality

of hate


when what we need

is deliverance

from these echoes of anguish

in my head

before we are all dead

and feel no more

© 11 September 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

Gil Scott-Heron - A Prayer for....mp3