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Strange Feeling

Strange feeling, standing next to this felled tree,

A victim of a violent assault.

Not long ago, these leaves were vigorous

In the reflection of a sparkling sun.

Green dominated, but entertainments

Of all shapes and styles delighted this Earth.

Now brown and shrivelled, they slip existence,

As they accompany their own decline.

We know that feeling too. The lynched bodies,

Helpless, like the leaves, in dusk’s aftermath,

Are left to come to terms with rancid rot.

Today, a tree. Tomorrow, a soldier.

The characters are different, certainly;

The end, and its preparation, the same.

War

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A Hundred Days ►

Comments

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John Botterill

Wed 1st Jun 2022 22:22

Wonderful poem, Stephen, so powerful! Great skill!

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Stephen Gospage

Wed 1st Jun 2022 17:24

Thanks, Stephen, for your kind comment. Yes, John, there is a link. War is a form of lynching, or perhaps it's the other way round.

And thanks to Tom, Bramwell, Rudyard, Holden, Pete and K Lynn for liking.

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John Coopey

Wed 1st Jun 2022 08:31

What Stephen says.
Reminded me at the end of Billie Holliday's "Strange fruit".
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Web007rzSOI

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Stephen Atkinson

Tue 31st May 2022 19:40

Cleverly constructed & hard hitting, Stephen 👏

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