The Hill

They climbed up on the hill and saw

A view they had not known before.

The land was green, the sky was blue;

The waves lapped gently on the shore.

But then a darkened cloud approached

And from it boomed the thunder’s roar.

 

The rain poured down, the lightning flashed,

The storm’s infernal uproar crashed.

All neighbourhood was washed away;

By dawn, their best-laid plan was dashed.

They shifted debris, ashen-faced;

A fragile heritage was smashed.

 

Dejectedly, they sat and stared;

The damage could not be repaired.

The scene would come to symbolise

A world where few stood up or cared.

For close by, in the easy haunts,

Such tragedies will not be shared.

◄ Drinking Culture

The Wrong America ►

Comments

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Bethany Sallis

Thu 23rd Jun 2022 15:26

so much enjoyed Stephen thank you

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Stephen Gospage

Thu 23rd Jun 2022 08:53

Many thanks to Rose, Leon, Stephen and John for the very kind comments. I am pleased that so many enjoyed it because I think the issue is of prime importance and the fact that a large part of the world does not (or does not want to) listen, is very disturbing.


Thank you to Frederick, Tom, Bramwell, Holden and K Lynn for liking.

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John Botterill

Thu 23rd Jun 2022 08:03

Magnificent Stephen. You make a very valid point with great skill and poetic charm. It's all the more hard hitting because of that!

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Stephen Atkinson

Wed 22nd Jun 2022 20:01

Just the usual brilliance, Stephen 👏

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LEON STOLGARD

Wed 22nd Jun 2022 19:39

Totally agree with Rose-excellent work Stephen!


P & L.

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Rose Casserley

Wed 22nd Jun 2022 09:23

Great poem Stephen with a two brilliant ending line's.




RC 💋

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