Sightless.
Whispers from wine-coloured moonlight have now
blighted old river grass.
No-one will pass by this flood's blistering chorus of
frustrated past outcry.
The waters stay silted with years-long, war-seared
bitterness as each ill-timed
Peace talk crumbled to finish killed by conclusions
of coated top-brass.
Dreams of the tortoise-shelled butterfly days faded
long before turbulent rapids
Drew young men and women toward battles over
naught but misapplied fears.
Lifetimes float hormonally by in river-side history
as pride's facade of need for action.
Forces of folk press-mustered, taught naught but
allegiance to mindless leads.
Listening I hear victims' pathetic exits still weeping
regrets for conceding to hate.
Wisps of blood-to-come days surface from tainted
mould as no war sits easily.
What happens when, hit by flows of violence peace
can no longer struggle for gain ?
Reddened under-tow of sacrifice rises from victims
caught in sightless obedience.
-
Author:
Fay Slimm. (
Offline) - Published: October 11th, 2019 02:52
- Comment from author about the poem: The unforgettable picture brought its own inspiration for this anti-war verse written a while back.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 33
Offline)
Comments6
Good write Fay.
Yes when we look but cannot see there is much misery ...the eyes of the heart need to be opened and then the mind shall surely follow...🌹
Quite haunting. Beautifully expressed Fay, as always.
How disgusting is war really. Mankinds stupidity in murderous manufacture motivated by, well strange for me to use the word but, motivated by evil.
Back on 1st Aug last year i tried to confront the aftermath of war in a piece title 'peace'. I think i caught it but you go further here.
what can we do.... helpless, impotent.... 'not my war?????' really?
I can see why that picture brought such a powerful write to you.
"Sightless obedience" says it all.
Your words are clear as Cornish air
They cause you want to dream;
Your sentiment, like Cornish fare,
As rich as clotted cream.
Ex animo, Alan
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