The Thirties

The Thirties

 

In nineteen thirty, Bradman piled on runs at Lord’s;

We sprinted from the bus to beat the hordes.

Our fancy was the first place in the queue.

Did we know then those sharpening their swords?

We should have checked, to see how much was true.

 

In nineteen thirty-two, the worldwide slump took hold;

There was no fuel to save some from the cold.

We sheltered in our earnest married life.

Did we care for the unemployed and old?

No, we preferred the drama of their strife.

 

In nineteen thirty-four, you had just reached your prime;

Your metier was to embroider time

With cake-cut words that rolled from every tongue.

Why were we so concerned they should not rhyme?

We were innovators, we were the young.

 

In nineteen thirty-six, my turn came round to shine;

To agitate and rudely undermine

Fatigued excuses for avoiding war.

Which one was shot for crossing the blue line?

We dragged him back, nailed shut the open door.

 

In nineteen thirty-eight, we nestled in our bed;

‘The world is doomed.’ I’m sure that’s what you said.

No need to worry, keep watch, go outside.

In here do we not prosper, thrive and spread?

And so we did, until the day we died.

◄ Last night, through the window

Moon River ►

Comments

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Stephen Gospage

Tue 31st Mar 2020 18:14

Thanks for the encouraging comments. We forget the lessons of the "low dishonest decade" of the 1930s at our peril. When leaders of nation states have free rein to preen themselves and to appeal to the basest instincts of their populations, while others bury their heads in the sand or just give up, the results can be truly horrible. In this regard (and beyond the coronavirus crisis), the current emergence of "strongman" leaders in so many countries is deeply worrying.

In the meantime, stay safe and look out for others.

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Brian Maryon

Mon 30th Mar 2020 21:21

The format is one not often seen on WOL. I like it.

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poemagraphic

Mon 30th Mar 2020 20:47

What a walk through the portal of time.

Enjoyable read
Po

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M.C. Newberry

Mon 30th Mar 2020 17:33

An intriguing pen-portrait (personal?) of a distant era that encompassed and heralded rapidly changing times that were a
dissatisfied prelude to military conflict that cost millions of lives.
It seems that humanity is somehow destined to kill those that nature might otherwise spare. The reasons are often varied and then
forgotten. That is the ongoing tragedy that our species endures.
Its saving grace is the ability to find ways of obtaining some sort of
compensatory balance in its ceaseless quest for cures and preservation. Like some giant jig-saw, of which humanity is given
the pieces over time and basically left to get on with completing the
puzzle.

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