Colin F. Jones and Friends


Part 1: Freedom’s Tears

I’ve seen tears in Freedom’s eyes
as she shivered at the sighs
of those who’ve never known her glory.

I’ve watched as she mourned
for souls lost and forlorn;
it’s a distressful but universal story.

“Freedom is not free… “ just a hollow phrase
for those who, all their living days,
strive and find only a shimmering illusion

like a mocking, illusive shade
that of their hopes have made
a chimera-like and derisory delusion.

©Copyright May 23, 2011 by Thurman P. Woodfork

Part 2: There’s Hope In Freedom

She rang her bells
Across the universe
From heavens to hells
As man accepts or curse

Fear rattled in nations
Consumed the body whole
Shaking among thousands
As killing kept adding its toll

Some say she has no tears
Others have seen them fall
Fighting corrupts and sears
While she ne’er treat with gall

Freedom in a wicked world
Imperfect people can obtain
As it’s released and unfurled
Believing miracles are God-given

There is hope for true freedom
Promises from our Creator above
We keep praying for that Kingdom
To rid the world’s cruelties there of

©Copyright May 23, 2011 by Melanie C. Campos ~ MahTame

Part 3: Quest

Freedom’s tears flow like a river
Into a whirlpool of stifled humanity
Dampened… still we rise to defend her

One day it is her dream
That all shall be free
And her tears no longer stream

Trudging onward we must go
Step by step…
Hoping that our efforts show

One day it shall be so…

©Copyright May 23, 2011 by Faye Sizemore

Part 4: Freedom

Is freedom not death; the absence of light,
Freedom from living clothed in a night,
That takes away memory old age and pain,
Vanquishing victory, achievement and shame.
Freedom from hunger, hardship and hate:
Freedom from bigotry, bias and debate.
Death offers it all, vain hope is destroyed,
Conceit is demolished abstraction deployed.
For death is the end – the end of all life:
The ultimate freedom from chaos and strife.
With absence of thought and consciousness gone,
Ambition and aspiration is left forever undone.
And God whom we dream of will still be a ghost,
For death is our guardian – the permanent host.

©Copyright May 24, 2011 by Colin F. Jones