mother (Remove filter)
NOT MUCH CALL FOR PLOUGHSHARES.
(This poem was born of a Newsnight blogger's comment in 2008. Serendipity in 'spades'.)
The arms of the world reach up in despair
A desperate child, with no mother there;
As the armaments industry fashions war-ware
There is not much call for ploughshares.
The artisan’s hand cupped Britain’s prowess
When the smith made and mended the tools of success;
His arms now hav...
Saturday 9th November 2013 2:32 pm
Recent Comments
David RL Moore on Too late too late
8 hours ago
Rolph David on Love The Light, Embrace The Rain
9 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The roads taken
12 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on still, the Earth breathes
13 hours ago
Marnanel Thurman on The roads taken
13 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on where shadows do not drown
13 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
14 hours ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on The Policemen Arrest The Men.
14 hours ago
Ray Miller on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
15 hours ago
Ray Miller on The roads taken
15 hours ago