Poem -
war of the roses
The world wakes up
With razored teeth
An army of steamrollers
Stand and bequeathÂ
A fieldfull of primrose
Quite dead in their wake
So beautifully crushed
Dreamy yellow opaque
And world craves its beauty
The beauty of death
Writes up brave tales
Of the no primrose left
Enshrines all the yellow
In public parades
While standing, saluting
And sharpening its blades
For world ever wakes up
With razor blade smiles
Carefully selecting from more
Colour files
Be it white lily or poppy
This time
An army of steamrollers
All wait in line
MÂ
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Comments
Hello Marion and so glad to see you're still here and writing quality.
And after reading for some reason I get this sense of dread and impending doom, you know inevitability, a foreboding with an image of endless well shined black boots marching onwards, relentless.
I suppose like life and work mere hamsters on the life's big wheel and we can never get off.
And never will.
Inevitability that's what the vibe in your poem infuses in me.
And no matter the theme you do it so well.
Poetry hugs to you dear Marion and Welsh poetry hugs also, for they're the best this blue planet can offer.
Shaun x
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Hello Shaun...so lovely to see you back. I think now what the world craves most is war. Innumerable wars all over the world... its what we do best...and if that sounds pessimistic ...I am lol. The UK is a war zone in itself these days... unrecognisable. Thankyou Shaun x
Alas I have to agree with you there Marion and it seems we have become detached and desensitized from constant media reports of this happening and here's a missile explosion, big plume of smoke and all that imagery, but when the smoke clears those present see and count the cost.
A current never ending cycle and don't get me started about the U.K and the selfish stupidity of knife crime alone, cars as weapons, drug gang crime, and all the loonytune crazies out there.
Fuck me!
Sorry Marion, was I raving there?
And you mention pessimistic,
An optimist poet views a green go light everywhere, while a pessimist poet sees only a red stop light... and some poets wish to be colour blind :)
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Brilliant, simply brilliant. Â B Â Â
You are way too kind... thanks love x
Very visualÂ
The brutal hush of dead crushed rose
Oh...I love that line R...there's a poem.there?? Thankyou x