SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: HUGH MANN

BROTHER
by Hugh Mann

I’m not well
If you are sick

I’m not rich
If you are poor

I can’t live
If you’re not free

I depend on you
And you can depend on me

A brother is no bother
We all have the same Father


(“Brother” was originally published in organicMD, Envisioning Peace, and Poets Against War in Canada, and is reprinted here today with permission from the poet.)


Hugh Mann, MD is a holistic physician-poet whose website, organicMD.org, promotes peace and health by publishing Peace Poetry. His work has been published in various poetry anthologies, websites, and medical journals, including MIT’s Envisioning Peace, British Medical Journal, Canadian Medical Association Journal, Annals of Internal Medicine, Jerusalem Post, and Poets Against War in Canada.

Editor’s Note: In keeping with our recent discussion on this series about peace poetry, today’s poem is by a poet who has dedicated his life to bringing about peace through poetry. Short, sweet, and to the point, today’s poem highlights how simple peace ought to be.

Want to read more by and about Hugh Mann?
Hugh Mann’s Official Website
Envisioning Peace

About Sivan Butler-Rotholz

Sivan is the Contributing Editor of the Saturday Poetry Series on As It Ought To Be and holds an MFA from Brooklyn College. She is a professor, writer, editor, comic artist, and attorney emerita. She is also the founder of Reviving Herstory. Sivan welcomes feedback, poetry submissions, and solicitations of her writing via email at sivan.sf [at] gmail [dot] com.
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4 Responses to SATURDAY POETRY SERIES PRESENTS: HUGH MANN

  1. Maya Elashi says:

    simple. sweet and sacred … like the olive branched dove. may it be so.

  2. Lezlie says:

    Beautiful post Sivan. We’re all connected by the divine spark but it’s easy to forget sometimes..thanks for the reminder.

  3. libramoon says:

    Mothers’ Night

    cascading shards
    uneasy
    echoes falling
    “It’s our calling.”

    Rape of Earth,
    hot spurts of words
    savage knives
    Abiding Mothers,
    sacred and mundane
    twist into harridan
    cold stars

    wail, hurtling waves
    Sad, old, crust of ages
    sliced, screwed, carved up for profit
    “It’s not the color of the skin,
    the culture of the smile”

    the scent of danger,
    the inborn stranger —
    all excuses for Us (superior)
    and Them (inferior)
    “They are not like we;
    but lower curs.”
    we may harm with unfettered glee

    Cursed to be cut to our requirement.
    Borders clear
    “Here, fear fences in
    our livelihood and wives.”
    Leave THEM to putrid pits
    cunning jabs,
    our pleasure.

    Thus, all treasure that might regale,
    heal, reveal true worth,
    of man and Earth
    sold for pittance of potash
    to dance a weary jig

    May 10, 2010

  4. libramoon says:

    )mad magicks( Emerging Visions visionary art ‘zine #20 will be emerging late this weekend (after the Rapture) http://emergingvisions.blogspot.com

    Jesus died for somebody’s sins, but not mine
    Jesus cried, and somebody grinned — don’t whine
    Jesus smiled his love on the least,
    scattered his manna that the lowly might feast
    All you remember is that slavering Beast
    so remind me why you find less than fine
    daring to share a peace of mind
    about kindness more
    than Divine

    46664

    Caging the Beast
    “call me after the Rapture” I
    post on religious social network
    sites.
    Have you read Yeats’ “Second Coming”?
    After the prophecy
    After the hard, hard rain
    after the rainbow
    Call me. We should get together.

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