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Written at a time of great cruelty and deceit

Thank you for being who you are.
a gift from the multitude of stars
blessed with both heart and soul:
you shall not grow old.
Who knows all the dark crevices of a person?
Not I.
Love is too often hoarded, accumulated, squirreled away:
like money, jewels, power, prestige.
Cruelty persists.
I love dogs and infants and hobos and screaming rooks,
at night I can be at peace,
it is rare to meet your lover at sunrise or sunset
for these times belong to the poor and weary.
We must not forget ghost-ridden times exist
for the rarity and grandeur of sunrise and sunset
we exist in spring rains and passing showers.

Gravity persuades us towards perambulating beneath the moon. 
Time floods our mere intent, urgent and precise,
children need protection for life. 

Even if the sun is not overhead
we grow to love trees, plants, flowers,
the rip-roaring energy of children and young dogs.
Humans are sick to death of cruelty and deceit
casting its jagged shadow here, there, everywhere,
we must counter this with all the kindness we possess
to those we love and, more especially, to the discarded, dispossessed.


◄ Thunder storm

A pantheist's yuletide ►


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Wed 6th Dec 2023 10:53

Beautiful John, the writing and the message.

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Stephen Gospage

Wed 6th Dec 2023 08:29

Superb and compassionate, John.

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David RL Moore

Wed 6th Dec 2023 06:48

I like your poem John.

I re-read the last stanza over and over hoping that I could agree with it. I think it reveals something of the overarching problem.

I could agree with it if the word "Humans" was prefixed by the word some. It begs the question, what is the ratio of those who prefer harmony to those who exploit conflict.

There is of course another element, and that is those who don't particularly care because they live under the delusion that none of the conflict impacts their lives.

Maybe to a large extent that is true, history teaches us that no matter how comfortable we may feel there is every likelihood that someday the big bad wolf will be outside our door. On that day most people will be looking outside themselves for assistance from others, will they recognise the irony of their own years of dismissive blind eyes? I doubt it even then.

You see it everywhere, even dare I say on poetry sites where some sneer at those writing about it, drawing attention. I agree that there must be uplifting and refreshing poetry, writing, prose, but I flinch whenever I see people dismissing the dark and difficult topics, suggesting it serves no purpose. I also question what purpose it serves because often it serves very little, especially where action is required. That said if by chance it awakens someone, anyone, just one to do something or even speak then that is something.

To dismiss and wish not to see or hear is a manifestation of the real life choice of doing nothing, I hope those people never have the wolves at their door.

Of course nothing is black and white and there is always contradiction with any searching thought process.

This morning I read how the winner of the 2023 Turner Prize displayed a Palestinian flag during a BBC interview stating that he did so "because there is a genocide going on" I believe the sculpture (if it can be called that, although that is its classification) is utter garbage, irrespective of its alleged representation. My first thought was, well if you care that much why don't you join an NGO and get your arse out to Gaza and do something, I doubt he is even able to perform CPR, but there you go. Unfortunately that was my reaction to that ridiculous statement, but was it ridiculous? who am I to say.

Although I do have an opinion on it, unfortunately we live in a world where people expect others to clean up the entrails and listen to the screams of children while they wave their little flags.

I hate how this makes me feel, because like I said It's bigger than that, not black and white.

I'm pee'd off that some might feel my remarks detract from something so trivial as poetry. The poem serves it purpose, is its purpose to appease, soothe, agitate, or is it a call to action? Of course it can be all those things or nothing, it's for us to choose.
I do genuinley apologise if I have drifted too far from your work, I recognise the element of rant in my own words.

Just a final thought. Is it those so full of hate who choose conflict over harmony who might benefit from love and understanding or is it not worth the effort.

My instinct would be to obliterate them, but that's wrong and far too simplistic, isn't it?


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keith jeffries

Tue 5th Dec 2023 19:57

Wise words and an appeal for goodness. This poem sums up well a sad aspect of the human condition. We can only hope.

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