Post borrowed from The Twisting Tail. Murdochmouse.wordpress.com
Desperation aids faith through beliefMystical hope can welcome reliefBut suffering sin, is an act withinNothing but time helps release the grief Quatrain form with an ab rhyme scheme.The gwawdodyn is a Welsh poetic form with a of couple variations. However, both versions are comprised of quatrains (4-line stanzas) that have a 9/9/10/9 syllable pattern and […]
This short anthology of poems, (yes I can spell), have all been written between April 2018 and November 2020. They are a diverse collection, some rhyme, some don’t. There is no common theme except randomness.
Many are inspired by a fellow poet Franci Eugenia Hoffman who regularly publishes a “prompt” on her site, some by travel, others by mood or situation. Poetry helps me think. I am also an author and my debut novel is on Amazon. Thomas, Wizard’s Son.
A tannoy sounds in the supermarket Another in the mall, We all stand still and upright As we remember all. I cannot remember, And that goes for my son, My grandchild can’t remember, For he is only one Although we can’t remember, as statues we still stand Heads bowed and we remember the loved ones who were slain. Although we did not know them, they weren’t our kith or kin. We just know they went before us to a death that was insane. Many British, German too, American, Japanese, Australians and Indians, Canadians and Burmese. Sent out to be slaughtered while the generals stayed behind, Eating well and drinking tea, to casualties they were blind. But we still bow our heads in prayer and we still remember them. We pray for the next generation that they will not condemn. War is for the foolish, politicians, generals, lords, It’s not them that do the dying, they leave that to the hoards. But war has changed since world war 2, but not for any easier, With guided drones and cyber wars, it’s only just got sleazier. So even though we knew them not, we still can shed a tear. Because of their great sacrifice, we should not live in fear.
Remembering. Nineteen million dead in world war 1 Eighty million in world war 2
This little missive in no way reflects me or anything about me. I am sure it will resonate with many people, but not me, I have absolutely no concept of low self esteem, depression or anxiety. I am the happiest person I know and the happiest you will ever know. I am my own self appreciation society. So, please no messages of support. No DM me babes, no “wanna talk?” This is not a cry for help, it’s just a poem.