POEM
And what then,
once the centuries’ fierce crackle fades,
and at last the flames subside?
Only this:
to rebuild and mend what can be mended,
to remember and survive.
Brian Bilston
Category Archives: poetry
Penguins
It’s Penguin Awareness Day.
They were sighted off the south-east coast,
drifting in towards the port;
their boat, a snapped-off block of ice,
melting slowly in the warmth.
By the docks, a crowd had formed itself;
mob-angry, it looked on.
Placards were thrust. A chant began:
GO BACK TO WHERE YOU’RE FROM.
‘They’re just economic migrants,’
declared a spokesman for the right.
‘They’ve come to rob us of our jobs.
It’s as clear as black and white.’
‘Tragic,’ said the Home Secretary,
mock-sadness suppressed his smirk.
‘We’d let them stay but here’s the rub –
they have no paperwork.’
‘They’ll undermine Our Way of Life!’
The warnings raged on Twitter.
‘They stink of fish.’ ‘They’ll rape your wife.’
‘There’s bombs beneath those flippers.’
‘PENGUIN CLAIMS “MY HOME IS MELTING!”’
The Sun printed in disgust.
‘But whose fault is THAT – except THEIR OWN?
What’s that to do with US?’
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In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields. -John McCrae
National Poetry Day
On National Poetry Day my two favorite poets.
“By the time you swear you’re his,
Shivering and sighing.
And he vows his passion is,
Infinite, undying.
Lady make note of this —
One of you is lying.” Dorothy Parker
“There is a beauty
that walks in the darkness,
makes its way
among the bombs
and broken lives,
offers blankets
and shoulders to cry on,
puts on kettles
and bandages,
mends what it can,
and asks
for not one thing back,
as it wraps
in its arms
the troubled night,
and waits
for morning
and its pale sunlight.” Brian Bilston
38 Caliber Reviews 