God looked down,
at the carnage of Life;
caused by folly,
of mere mortal Generals.
The trenches dug
by the sweat of many.
Filled with bodies,
that were the Seeds of Youth:
for the generations of Nations.
Serving now as only plowed furrows;
In the fields of the dead.
All this He saw;
the waste of mankind,
the futility of War;
and He wept.
Such was His grief,
that His tears rained down.
Churning the ground into mud;
until the ugly scars of war,
were covered.
He caused the Poppy to grow there;
with leaves of haigh green ;
a hue rarely seen.
The petals were blood red,
as ran the fields of the dead.
The centre was black,
the colour of mourning.
To remind us all,
"Lest we should forget."
Some only remember,
for two minutes,
on a Sunday in November.
During the service from the Cenotaph...
Many don't remember then.
~Dusti Rodes
U.K.
~Beannaichte'*
@beannaichte.twitter.com
@beannaichte.twitter.com
9 September, 2013
* Dusti is a fellow writer and poet. He has left several of his timely offerings in the comment section of my blog.
I appreciate the opportunity to share his work, on this format. His words are well-honed, yet have the amazing ability to draw the reader in, at a soul-level-always strong and true.
The above work can be located in the comment section, dated 5 September, 2013.
Dusti can be found on Twitter @dusti_rodes.twitter.com
"Alicia,This is a visually stunning presentation of my poem. And I sincerely thank you for your effort in doing this. I also feel very humbled and honoured that someone that I rate highly as a writer and caring person so be so moved to make such moving comments. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteWith the anniversary of 9/11 being tomorrow, I thought you might like to read the poem I wrote in response to the situations that arose from it.
On Nine Eleven
History happens,
Outside the reasoning
Of real people's
Realms of reality.
Where were you?
On 9/11.
What did you do?
On 9/11.
If anything.
What could you do?
On 9/11.
Stunned into silence,
As the world watched, helpless.
Fearless fire fighters and police.
Bravely giving their lives.
In an attempt to save
Husbands, fathers, sons, brothers
Mothers, daughters, sisters and wives.
All to no avail
From the furnace-like heat and carnage
Of that man-made hell.
Someone took
A photo
Of a
Fellow, free-falling
From the
Great height
Of the
Twin temples
Of Finance.
Maybe
Bin Laden
Was right
About Americans
Worshipping
False gods.
That's taking
Faith in
The dollar
Too far.
"In God
We Trust"
Ground Zero,
The parkland precinct,
Now filled with flowers;
That serves as a memorial,
To the graveyard,
That was once
The Twin Towers.
The Americans had 9/11,
The Twin Towers;
We Brits had 7/7,
The London Bombings;
Names and numbers,
Numbers and names.
In Iraq and Afghanistan,
It's just the same;
A soldier's number.
A person's name.
Barbaric beheadings;
Brutal beatings,
Of helpless hostages.
Can anyone keep their head,
Long enough to stop;
The rising numbers
Of the names
Of the fallen dead?
Where were you?
What did you do?
On 9/11.
Hello Dusti.
ReplyDeleteFirst, you are quite welcome. I can assure you, the honour is equally shared.
Secondly, thank you for sharing "On Nine Eleven" - a day, and time, that is inscribed on many of our hearts, for a multitude of reasons - a time we will not forget. Yet, if we are to glean that which is of use and rightful purpose - we must not forget! The question remains: "where am I, today," in relationship to these happenings, as a Nation, as a People, and on a global basis? I think it begins with asking, where was I, on that fateful day? And yes, "where were you?"
Thank you, for giving us the opportunity to pause, reflect, and question, by reading your words...
I remain in Caring and Friendship,
~Beannaichte'!
Alicia