Trinkets decorate walls
Foundation rotting Continue reading “Vainglorious”
In our comfort zone,
We build our fortresses.
Keep out, we shout.
None that are
Not us, Continue reading “Our Prisons, Created by Us”
Idea for this post came while commenting on a post from Ritu (butismileanyway). I read her post in bed and sent my comment. As I was getting out from bed, I panicked. Did the ghost of autocorrect took over my comment. What a disaster that would be.
Rest assured I was texting
Enjoying the lush read Continue reading “Visit from the Autocorrect Ghost”
‘You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled
Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring
The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing.’ —W.B. Yeats
Battlefields were gone long ago, bones turned to dust
Thousands perished here feeding conquerors’ power lust
They were young once, full of ambitions and dreams
Life cut short in distant lands amid pain and screams
Call of duty, false pride or manipulated by the powerful
They came in hordes, primed to kill, but dying like fools
Promises unfulfilled, broken hearts’ lonely cries unheard
Silent cries crush the hearts of myriad orphans left behind
Crumpled statues litter the landscape, those who gave the war calls
Take heart lost ones, when the dust settles, the bell tolls for all
This poem is in response to Jane Dougherty’s A Month (November) with Yeats Challenge day Fifteen