a baby cries in the dark as
somehow the gunshots are not
rocking it to sleep
despite repetition, constancy
an allure no monster accounts for
the devastation of tears
the building cries
amongst its rubble
twisted steel, shattered hills
edging away from war cities
a baby cries at the sirens
blending to cacophony
the baby yearns to hold a bomb
Nicola Beckett
Wed 8th Jul 2020 23:25
Chilling x we heard a new born today
Clive,
This is a deep piece of work which initially took me some time to fathom. I have monitored and written some poetry on the situation in Syria which this poem speaks of albeit not in name. The baby yearns to hold a bomb. From this I see that war only begets war. When people are brutalised do they then become the abuser? I believe so.
A good poem and well crafted.
Keith
I went for the shock factor with this poem. Innocense with a baby, destruction from war - two uncomfortable factors when considered together.
The last line - two 4 letter words - baby and bomb - both contain 2 b's and shocking to use them in the same sentence - so that's what I went for.
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Nicola Beckett
Wed 8th Jul 2020 23:34
Tragic x