Poetry
My newest poem 'Another Blow' came out of a seemingly continuous wave of large business's failing over a Christmas and New Year period. All the people who's future suddenly became uncertain or gone saddened me and inspired me to write.
Another BlowIt all seems pointless now
This slog, this rut. Driving on in the pursuit of gain, just to stay afloat, While around and about business’ fail. Senior managers are fine, no trouble for them Somehow it’s never their fault. The economy, the customers going elsewhere for goods, The staff failed targets, the sales at Christmas were poor. All cries from their lofty towers as they prepare to move to pastures new. How is it never their fault? The rest of us down at the face Tossed aside, left abandoned. Customers raging, job prospects slim to none, The business takes its final gasps. All we have is misery and fear. As the closure day looms questions fill our minds. Can we keep our home? Who will feed our children? They keep us in ignorance to preserve the sales as it all slips away. What will become of us? The SnowballIt's joyfully thrown
In hand a bitter pain Icy white, bright and cold. An Impact! Glorious, so glorious! Wait What's this? A white starburst on my chest, broken snow at my feet? Quick! Run! Here's another. Water NymphHer reflection wavers in the pool
Memories as indistinct She reaches for a lost loves hand. |
The LightAlthough those about me weep and wail, calmness is mine to keep.
Take heart my loves, take heart! for peaceful rest is mine eternal. The light it calls me now, upon soft and soundless wings. I go. ApocalypseWar atop his fiery red steed roars a fearsome shout
The schlikt of a flashing sword as it scythes through the throng, they fall in pieces, but up ahead, each turns to fight his brother. A bright white horse prances and paces, eager to enter the fray. Pestilence's bow tensioned, his arrow knocked, preparing to loose it away. Poor souls ahead lay down their arms as Victory Conquers the day. Upon the rise above the scene, a shadow sits against the moonlight. The black stallion stamps, Famine watches, balances by his side. An evil grin stretches his haggard face, his job is done their fate is sealed. Galloping hooves, a-thundering through the dusty twilight. A skeletal rider hails our doom with screams to fright all life. Darkness falls across the land as death gathers in the harvest. |