Poetry

It's a lazy Saturday and I have been reading through my old poetry notebooks and thought I would share some of it with you. Hope you enjoy.

Mother Nature's Way's

Blood trickle down rose, drip onto snow,
the mountains high, yet we can't go.
Air so fresh, takes your breath away,
all things end, come what may.

Rivers run dry, rain doth fall,
trapped against, a red brick wall.
Cultures clash, and people die,
lost someone? ask yourself why.

Mother nature, works her ways,
sun comes out, on lazy days.
Lots of things, I should have done,
and lot's of battles, I should not have won.


Irish Hope - (written following the Omagh bombing 1998)

Shattered glass and buckled steel,
busted brick, a Ford Escort wheel.
The odd flickering flame darting around
and lots of rubble upon the ground.
A perfect silence falls on the street,
for those who arrive, what a sight to meet.

Broken bodies, a twisted mass,
a faceless child, it's a wee young lass.
A blood splattered pram in the road.
Warnings came too late, without a code.
Then in the darkness someone screams,
they'll survive or so it seems.

Ambulances arrive and the fire brigade.
The street will take months to be remade.
It's the dead and maimed we have to think about,
we'll remember them without a doubt.
These senseless killings will not bring peace,
this meaningless violence, must now cease.


Chlamydia

The dirty whore has many diseases,
that she passes on to the men she pleases.


Remorse

I'm so sorry, I killed your Dad last night.
You see, well, we kind of got into a fight.
I never knew him, as nor do I you.
I couldn't help it, just something I was ordered to do.

I'm so sorry, I killed your husband last night.
You see, well, we kind of got into a fight.
I'd never met him,didn't know his name.
I suppose it is that it is me that you should blame.

I'm so sorry, I killed your son last night.
You see, well, we kind of got into a fight.
I suppose you'd call it murder but not chargeable by law.
Please understand, he was the enemy, after all we are at war.


Kind note

Dear Mr Blair
How dare
you sit there
and stare.
When your cabinet is lying,
about the people dying
and the children crying.
While we are sighing,
through frustration and pain.
Our energies drain
and our people strain,
just to maintain.
Order and peace,
to the world and it's niece,
'cause we can police,
in order to cease.
Racial discrimination,
worldwide oppression,
millions depression,
our planets destruction.
World poverty
and child cruelty,
nuclear warfare technology.
Yours sincerely
Howie.

All poetry copyright howie.