In the mind of a Babe
Where spoken language does –
Not yet dwell –
Are images the rule?
The River – the sharp Knife –
Proffering ideas –
Until words… fail him?
Written in response to a Stanford University prompt to write new words (politically motivated) to an easily recognisable tune. I have chosen John Denver’s annoyingly catchy tune “Country Roads” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1vrEljMfXYo).
Powerful and uncomfortably true words. Great poetry.
I have seen children
Die of thirst and of hunger.
They were the future.
They dance, dance, dance in my eyes,
I can’t forget, I don’t want.
My First attempt at a Shakespearean Sonnet:
How do I hate thee, is there need to say,
or do my actions speak as one contrite?
If so my dear, stand in the light of day
and see my heart is truly black as night.
Our future, we once took care to handle –
an embryonic shell that carried life.
It promised by the light of a candle,
that we were meant to give this soul its breath.
But you my dear have chosen to be deaf.
So it is left for me to salvage growth
From beneath the wall, where soldiers take leave
to put things back together; not to loath.
So with my small army, of closest friends,
I’ll make a life – who needs your failed amends.
As tasks lay before me in growing mounds.
I close my eyes and sip the last sweet taste
Of this Saturday morning lethargy.
My mind slips silently and gently back
To times when red capes made it all seem right.
No task too great, no feat to tall, I’d fly.
My hands thrust before me; adventure bound.
My cape streaming behind skinny shoulders.
White bonds underwear outside of blue shorts.
“What are you doing up on the roof Dad”?
Usually I am just in the way,
Today it’s the same and I zoom away.
My puny legs pump, my eyes wide open
Off to find a damsel who’s in distress.
“Need a hand Mum, I can carry the clothes”?
I dropped them last time onto the wet grass
So this maiden rejects the brave call.
This reverie’s broken by pounding feet
My family is home, the shopping is done.
The lawn is before me, unkempt and brown
There are hedges that stand loosely unpruned.
I long for times when red capes save the day
In the meantime, I’m glad I’m not shopping.
my sub-tropical city
fails to get me home
(shouldn’t a sub-tropical city expect the occasional storm and have a transport system that copes?)