David Wright is an Emmy Award-winning Canadian-American broadcast journalist and political activist, a former correspondent for ABC News, and a self-described socialist. His work appears on Nightline, World News Tonight, Good Morning America and 20/20.
ABC News on Wednesday announced it had suspended correspondent David Wright for comments he made that were secretly recorded and disseminated by a right-wing activist group.
“ABC’s decision essentially—and wrongly—suggests that journalists are unable to do their work professionally if they have private opinions, as any individual does. In doing so, it hands a victory to an outfit whose mission is to use underhanded tactics to undermine public faith in the credibility of a free press. Wright was expressing his personal opinions at a bar, and even gave a disclaimer that his comments were separate from his professional work. To punish him for this sends the wrong message to the public and to those who seek to further drive distrust in professional media.” Nora Benavidez, director of U.S. Free Expressions Programs, PEN America.
PEN America stands at the intersection of literature and human rights to protect open expression in the United States and worldwide. It champions the freedom to write, recognizing the power of the word to transform the world. Its mission is to unite writers and their allies to celebrate creative expression and defend the liberties that make it possible.
‘She lost herself in the trees among the ever-changing leaves. She wept beneath the wild sky as stars told stories of ancient times. The flowers grew towards her light, the river called her name at night. She could not live an ordinary life with the mysteries of the universe hidden in her eyes.’
“The sequoias belong to the silences of the milleniums. Many of them have seen a hundred human generations rise, give off their little clamors and perish. They seem indeed to be forms of immortality standing here among the transitory shapes of time.” American poet Edwin Markham (1852-1940)
move sedately through the forest, ignore any storms and praise
these grave dignified giants, these meditative trees, such bliss
to walk their deep rich earth where sun stands sentry by day
and by night the moon, the stars gift their brightest smiles here
if not their warmth, sequoiadendron giganteum grow wise and vigilant
on their circles of history, the primeval years, the years of conflict
the matristic tribes, the patriarchal colonizers, the activists today
Nature is always watching, always baring witness to the human compulsion. Perhaps at times it reflects us back to ourselves. What do you think? Tell us in your poem/s …
please submit your poem/s by pasting them into the comments section and not by sharing a link
please submit poems only, no photos, illustrations, essays, stories, or other prose
Poems submitted through email or Facebook will not be published.
Deadline: Monday, March 2 by 8 pm Pacific Time. If you are unsure when that would be in your time zone, check The Time Zone Converter.
Anyone may take part Wednesday Writing Prompt, no matter the status of your career: novice, emerging or pro. It’s about exercising the poetic muscle, showcasing your work, and getting to know other poets who might be new to you.
You are welcome – encouraged – to share your poems in a language other than English but please accompany it with a translation into English.
“We cannot expect people to have respect for law and order until we teach respect to those we have entrusted to enforce those laws.” Hunter S. Thompson
And here we are with another week spent and back at Tuesday for the responses to guest host Mbizo Chirasha’s Wednesday Writing, Presidential Griot, February 19, which suggested poems that address corruption in government. Hence, this stellar collection gifted to us by Anjum Wasim Dar, Sonia Benskin Mesher, Miroslava Pananyotova, and Corina Ravenscraft. Miroslava is new to our community and warmly welcome.
Enjoy this collection and do join in tomorrow for the next Wednesday Writing Prompt. All are welcome: beginning, emerging, and pro.
In innocent days of innocent joys, we played
in the sand, on the new land, feeling safe, with plenty
in peace- nor wailing sirens nor piercing screams,
but flowers blooming, amid ever green trees,
clear water streams accessible, giving shade and fruit,
in freedom solved all oncoming problems, offered gratitude
for blessings affordable, friendly neighbors, open roads-
open houses, environments clean and safe-
but silent troubles surf, time turns pages, changes the scenes,
begin new chapters, peace fades into parades, clippoty clop turns
into metallic squeaks marching boots sound in the streets-
soldiers all over, stand guard blocked are the roads ,
no free pass, stopped by wires, barbed-‘country is saved ‘the radio says,
‘ the enemy disgraced- but why do the people feel enslaved?
aedes have attacked ,Hyades hides in the milky way, martial law in place
‘noble plow land bears no grains’ ‘all is grief, all is pain’
how can any character be tested? in a sensitive situation
or by the power in him, vested?’ But where have all the good
people gone? Killed? murdered jailed, arrested ? Was peace in or out?
Long time passing, when will they ever learn? Will they ever learn?
‘I am a free man’, he said.’ In power to command and control
in ruling over all. If you want peace, stay peaceful’.
Fear tension came to stay, fetters applied, bullets sprayed
tear gas shells burst every week, thus began the traitors greed
Never can anyone be fully aware of preexisting ethical tendencies-
now our afflictions have no end, power shifts from same hand to hand
rich getting richer, poor poorer, greedy greedier, rented killers are beasts
falsehood is truth, favored is the law, so grab the land , enjoy the feasts.
There is more than meets the eye on paper , Anjum, millions are bitten,
suffer the disease, Dengue is here as malaria malingers, cursed is the
marching anopheles,cannot kill Cyclops of prices, caught is the nation
in the corrupted fleece, Beware Beware Cerastes has arrived,
Arise Awaken ‘ Prepare to Defend or be forever bitten.’
This one, defies prayers and herbs,
Cooked in the dark of day at five star dinners,
Gentility curves life turkey’s before they are hatched,
The farmer, his back bent, stews in his dark sweat,
While down the bowels of Earth, men known as boys smoke coals,
Spitting life out in bloodied plegms,
So cronyism and patronage saints at state joints can light up their dreams,
Exhortation exhausts those who dare get pregnant,
Nepotistic partriacs regale the nation with catchy tunes,
Of dependence disguised as independence,
Politics of economics and economics of politics,
Lording it on the already marginalized by virtue of their location,
Welcome to nowhere in the state of nothing led by something akin to a leech,
A leech fat and sleek from draining the collective coffers
In cohorts with like minded ogres who jam church isles on Sundays,
Paying their tithes to fellow brothers in lootery,
Direction remains fixed,
Loud trumpets announce the loyalty pledge to a Nation on it’s knees,
Beggary is a career and preoccupation of the masses,
When not oddly cheering the fat cats on the stadiums,
They are dying of curable diseases and hunger in peace,
The fate of many a Nation State,
Whose leadership is a radarless fighter be jet,
That is crushing on it’s own side ,
Making merry on the skeletal frames of an impoverished people,
For corruption and cancer have one thing in common if truth be told,
It fells the sick, and infects the sorroudings,
It takes down the sick and drains the caregiver,
It Rob’s the family of joy and peace,
A malady that no one should get comfortable with,
For it never knows not to take,
Till, collectively, the entire falls into a heap of lostness,
Corruption is the devil’s dance that so attracts the sly eyed,
Tragedy is often in the final moments before enough is echoed,
It crushes on itself, eating the eater and the remains of the eaten,
Stuff of the most unnecessary revolutions and counter revolutions,
Blood baths and massacres,
Shocking results of long term abuse by morally decadent chiefs long turned thieves,
Those who steal till the owners notice,
And in harsh attempts to preserve their rotten systems,
Gag all who dare to raise a voice.
The way of corruption is the way of conflict,
The only solution is truth, justice and accountability,
Minus that, civil wars and militia business is here to stay.
Let poetry not be accused of being silent when corruption stages it’s false drama.
There is no profit in peace, you know.
White Horse or Red, the blood must flow.
Human constructs, like Conquest or War,
Benefit the rich and bury the poor.
I think the Draft should be reinstated;
So that ALL might witness the horror created.
Send the war-mongers’ sons first,
To hold the Front Line’s Hell.
Watch them die, or even worse,
Return home, as a shell.
If politician’s kids are killed or maimed,
Will war then taste as good as they claimed?
What’s the magic, almighty dollar amount?
To make endless war worth the body count?
If Corporations are people, now, too,
Let’s send them to war, and see if it’s true.
Will those corporations scream in pain as they bleed?
Will they writhe in agony for a rich man’s greed?
Will they lose their limbs, and maybe their minds?
Does the Machine care about the bones, the bodies it grinds?
In the end:
There is no prophet of peace, you know.
The love of money is Greed: War’s C.E.O.
The wars will continue, the innocents will still fall.
And the Pale Horse’s rider will someday claim all.