The Marketplace of Life #poetry #lifeinUganda




greetings far and wide

hearts momentary grasp

a smile of shared kindness

if only this could last

 shallow are grey blue waters

when for another do not share

freedom used to ring

for gold we only care

daily the reminders

a smile so white and pure

a child trusts my hand

love is our world’s cure


gathering place

happy red tomatoes

instant friends


The prompt for this week at Poet’s United Mid Week Motif is Independence.

That concept used to be so dear – now is a time when people are enslaved in so many ways.


Pound of Flesh #poetry #human-trafficking #atozchallenge


extract just one more

fits perfect to scale

I would never hurt you

I need you for this sale


the very best of you

how can it be

better for you

than for me


I’ll portion it off

to the highest bidder

don’t worry my pet

you’re the top of the litter


a valuable specimen

is in the eyes you see

come one come all

to the human shopping spree


A poem begins with a lump in the throat, a home-sickness or a love-sickness. It is a reaching-out toward expression; an effort to find fulfillment. A complete poem is one where the emotion has found its thought and the thought has found the words.

Robert Frost


Free Verse: no form, no necessary rhyme scheme or meter. Free verse allows for the liberal expression of the poet.

A2Z-BADGE-000 [2014]


In Defense of Innocence #humantrafficking #poetry #amwriting

her mother’s beauty she wore

pink ribbon’s once danced on her head

when little sshe loved and adored

her mother’s beauty she wore

promise to be loved and adored

for the drugs she begged and pled

now her mother’s beauty she whored

pink ribbons danced on  innocent’s head


” unique  adoption market” he lied

her eyes glazed by addiction

“promise she a cared for child”

“yes, she will be wanted” he lied

“promise they will not hurt my child”

his eyes gleamed greedy conviction

” perfect opportunity” he lied

her world destroyed by addiction


pink ribbons soaked by tears

no one to chase sorrow away

she lived nightmare’s fears

pink ribbons soaked by tears

she lived nightmare’s fears

men lined up night and day

pink ribbons soaked by tears

no chasing sorrow away

There is nothing pretty or sweet about these pink hair ribbons. Symbolically they are defiled by the avarice and perversion of a world whose words are to protect children but whose actions are to treat them as chattel to be sold and used. When working with street kids, I asked where all the girls were.

“They are gone,” the brothers, cousins and friends would state. “They are chased down by mafia and state police and sold.”

I witnessed the night raids where children were chased down like rabid dogs in the streets. When I went home, I tried to raise awareness and financial support to create safe places for these children to go and be educated. No one wanted to believe that “this” the diabolical sale of children could be happening in our “compassionate” world. Years later that information is coming to the forefront – too late for many whose lives are already expired!!!


Photograph: “Ribbons” ©L. Moon 2013

Letting Go of My Hand (Poem)

I held her small hand

walked into the marketplace of life

when did her hand become strong?

She let go –  seemed the right time

Watching her shape fade

into the tapestry of tomorrow

wrought pain

Was it pain?

Or was it missing future memories?

I  felt this pang once before

when all the memories of the past melded

the day my hand was big

I entered the marketplace and

let go of my mother’s


never turned back