Magpie Tales
Mag #121
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| Still Life, 1670, detail by Jean François de Le Motte |
I can not bear it
This interminable absence
This war, this horrific massacre of humankind
This blight on creation
I wait alone
Your words lost amongst the noise of children
running through the sprinkler
My tears falling in time
to the swaying of the porch swing
I listen
Talking heads of empty promises
Planning their chess game
Endless war of words
I can not bear it
Laurel. War is hell.
Mapie Tales is a Sunday blog for people like me who write "for the purpose of honing their craft,
sharing it with like-minded bloggers, and keeping their muses alive and
well." I see the weekly photo prompt and then write as I am inspired.
Indeed the endless war of words is hell ~ I specially like:
ReplyDeleteYour words lost amongst the noise of children
running through the sprinkler
I read your wonderful poem several times and I think it speaks volumes. An interesting interpretation of this picture.
ReplyDeleteOh, such reality!! There are so many times when the remembrance of the horrors of war seems a totally futile deterrent towards the peace effort. "My tears falling in time
ReplyDeleteto the swaying of the porch swing" caused me to choke. So poignant. Thank you for sharing, Laurel.
"Talking heads of empty promises" will remain in my mind forever.
ReplyDeleteHate politicians!!!
DeleteThanks for catching that...you saved me. Egg on my face! Corrected.
ReplyDeletethis is a strong, timeless and meaningful poem- wonderful.
ReplyDeleteyour poem made me feel alone and quite sad....beyond the noise...x
ReplyDeletesad but nicely done.... even the silent wars amongst us is terrible...
ReplyDeleteJJRod'z
empty promises, sometimes, that's all promises seem to be about!!
ReplyDeleteExcellent! "Talking heads of empty promises" pretty much sums up governments everywhere.
ReplyDeleteheavy....love that middle stanza as for me it carries so much of the emotion of the poem...the children there playing yet her so alone...felt piece...
ReplyDeleteI always enjoy reading your posts. The pic of the Grand Canyon were beautiful. I know the feeling of not being able to capture all of that beauty. - I wanted to invite you to our Blog/Luncheon that we are having on the 29th of June. It is from 10 -2, $35(includes a High Hand box lunch). We are hoping to have as many local bloggers as possible. Give me a call if you can make it! Thanks, Terry (916)261-9079
ReplyDeleteIll mark it down. THX.
DeleteHer waiting and the war and empty promises, I can feel the hole. The reasons are empty and forgotten when so much pain has to shed.
ReplyDeleteI agree, Laurel.
ReplyDelete"Talking heads of empty promises"
So true. War is not the answer they proclaim it to be...well done!
I trust the poet's soldier will make it back safely. I pray this is just a story for you. It's bad enough if it is a story because there are so many who are living exactly what you write. If it is your story, then hugs to you, my dear. Keep the faith.
ReplyDeleteMeanwhile the soldiers fight not for America nor for ideals like freedom so much as to keep each other alive and safe. They want to be stand up and to do their jobs well.
a story, Chris. Thanks God I've never gone through it.
Deletelove the image of the kids in the sprinkler - classic
ReplyDeleteI was picturing a small country town where that's the only entertainment for kids
DeleteYou painted the picture perfectly, especially the middle stanza, with children’s cries drowning out the awfulness.
ReplyDeleteThe children playing in the sprinkler is so very evocative...
ReplyDeleteYou are so right. War is Hell, always has been and always will be.
ReplyDeleteWar is indeed hell as is the waiting...
ReplyDeleteI read your poem several times and am captured by it.
Anna :o]
Thanks Anna.
DeletePowerful read and message.
ReplyDelete=)