Poetry Blogs (2017, war)
A hundred thoughts in my mind
Yet struggling to pen down some lines.
There is this rainbow, all over me;
But I am all white
Just being black and white.
Bullet is cheaper than love;
Tears wiping away smiles.
Death winning over life;
But I am alright,
Just being black and white.
A hundred arrows pierced my heart;
Haven't split a pint of blood, yet
Thursday 7th December 2017 4:54 pm
Tuesday 5th December 2017 11:58 am
Sunday 12th November 2017 3:32 pm
From the land of the wall wishing brave,
where braves are no longer welcome,
or this, our island of explorers
who now wish these sea shores were
fringed with endless rows of closed doors,
have migrated many mantras of woe
fired forth from the business of diplomatic show.
And so, below the same stars
beneath which some mothers starve
- but not ours -
Friday 22nd September 2017 9:34 pm
The end of the world is nigh!
But, my Grandma is dying.
Nuclear war is imminent,
Terror has divided us all,
We're afraid of percentages,
Soldiers love and fall.
And yet, my grandma lays dying.
I sit here writing,
My Grandma lays in rest,
Beaten, but still fighting,
In ways, we all are blessed
Thursday 10th August 2017 9:56 pm
When I was young I could never construct papier mache,
a mush of childish hope squidged between my stubby digits.
Squashed heads on a highway reminded me of this,
collapsed boney balloons oozing dead memories.
Human hopes crushed out between a dictators claw,
his ranting slavish servants clenching bloody fists.
My art teacher enjoyed my abstract creativity,...
Monday 24th July 2017 10:03 pm
A ghostly image of a soldier
stood in the background,
the scent of lilac's filled the air
even though it was winter.
A Mother with a babe in her
arms stood by a grave site.
Lilac's were the flowers her
husband had given her before
he left for war. So she
felt his presence.
She whispered, "Father this
Thursday 13th July 2017 2:20 am
Running through the playground with a red ball
Kicking up dust of a joy he once knew
A right footed volley is greeted by the roar
Of helicopters circling above the street.
As the few play Jenga with the lives of many,
Walls and dreams crumble around his bare feet.
A kaleidoscope of gas, blood and orange
Ambulance seats tumble before his eyes.
Simply a child. Lullabied to sleep by mother’s ...
Tuesday 27th June 2017 2:23 pm
They say 5 a day and a number of vaccines are what you need to be healthy
They say that cancer can't be cured and that a plant should be outlawed, but what's the reality
They say we need to go to war but we've heard it all before, and it's not how it should be
They say we need to vote so get in line, as if we have a choice this time, they act like we'...
Thursday 4th May 2017 1:20 am
That flash of white light,
that’s your brain unrestrained
hitting you're skull.
Messages sparking incoherently,
unable to connect they simply arc,
and that’s the last thing you’ll see
before you wake up with bits of you gone.
Left behind on another landmass.
No consent asked and none given,
you’ll lie under a metal frame
where crisp white sheets wo...
Monday 17th April 2017 7:56 am
The delivery system avoided attention
abiding by rules laid down in convention,
but what stifled their breath and took it away
was the invisible death ingested that day.
The media pictures of a spluttering end
flashed round the globe designed to offend,
and something so small that the eye couldn't see
awakened a monster in the land of the free.
Sunday 9th April 2017 3:50 pm
In the courtroom
a murder of lawyers spluttered,
arguing, debating their hourly rating,
the state of an unbalanced mind,
when they un-flapped their gowns,
they’d little comprehension
of acute combat tension
in South Asian border-land towns.
Whilst out on the street
banners waved and horns sounded,
Saturday 18th March 2017 12:13 pm
By Alem Hailu
The poem below decrying war was written by Lithuanian poet Salomeja Neris when her country was invaded by Nazi Germany. By way of showing how it is possible to explicate a narrative poem and invite readers reread the poem and grasp the meaning I will explicate her poem Spring as follows.
Once again will lilac sing,
And brooks will babble, brooks, w...
Saturday 18th March 2017 7:14 am
Brass bullet casing
Flakes of tobacco
Grains of sand
Sepia tinted photograph
And pith helmets
And Pay book
Will not needed
Ink a faded blue
Monday 27th February 2017 5:04 pm
I went to an extraordinary exhibition last year called "Spirit of Anzac" which was touring all over Australia. It came closer than anything I've seen in capturing the daily experiences of those who fought, and died, in the First World War, and especially in trench warfare on the Western Front. I have tried to express something of that experience, as I understand it.
Adagio of the Heart
Sunday 12th February 2017 9:38 am
The real world is different for those born within strife,
if they are lucky they may grow to become husband or wife,
but for many, boy soldiers is what they were forced to become,
only eleven years old, yet their burden is to be carrying a gun.
How many live long enough to know that there are other ways,
within another country they wouldn't have been made military slaves.
Sunday 5th February 2017 3:16 am
How evil is the mind of Man,
To do the things, as we all can,
Our evolution and history to refuse,
With inhuman profanity and abuse.
The nazis, to the Poles and Jews,
Set a raging firestorm loose,
They laughing, gay with callous calm,
Teased and tortured with unremitting charm,
Destroyed race and ravaged life,
Gorged upon others agony and strife,
To plant their o...
Thursday 19th January 2017 3:03 pm
Sunday 15th January 2017 2:27 pm
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