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Stormy skies.
Yet not a cloud in sight
Midsummer's fury
With the accusations
running high

Burning sensation
is taking over me.
The sun is scorching
but I will not flee

I shall stand here
In all my naked glory.
Judge me, if you will
Laughing makes me free.

Your stones are sharp,
They cut into me.
My hands are tied
But my words cannot
be taken from me.

I said what was right
I'll declare it till the end
I might break
but I won't bend.

Hi Greta ~

With some negative connotations sometimes attached to the word "Pride," I'll think of your poem in terms of "Dignity." I wish some of your words wouldn't come out as filled with numbers and various symbols . I like your poem, no matter what you've titled it.

Love,
Elizabeth

Greta~

Beautiful! Reminds me of St Stephen.

Love,

Makera

thank you for your kind words.
I always forget to check if the poem isokay begore i submit it. I hope now i'ts better...


I just like all kinds of sains but i don't know very many of them...
Who was St Stephen. Why did he become a saint?

Mucho bettah, Greta ! Thanks! Your letters read much better than the numbers, who just seem to want to get in on the fun, without giving anything back . Having been where your poem is at, I like the way you've said it. The breaking, but not bending, can be the "death" of "us," even when we're right, huh ~ even so, standing your ground has its merits .

Love,
Lizzy

Hi Greta~

You'll find the story of Stephen's martyrdom, for telling the truth, in Acts chapters 6 & 7, in the Bible. Starting from Acts 6:8 (note: 7:51-60).

It's always good to be hated by the right people; I think Johnny Cash said something like that.

Truth, Love & Light,

~Makera