Tide
By ralph
- 570 reads
Tide
We are watching football.
Bellingham skates on Wembley ice.
Our phones bleep with news
and more news.
Italy score,
but we own the tide.
There is another bleep
and you switch channels.
Rolling images of fire,
ambulances and rubble.
Of stretchers, children.
The wailing.
There is claim
and counter claim.
The politicians,
the journalists
the doctor.
I put on the kettle,
make some toast.
Two cups of tea.
I take your hand.
It’s all I know how to do.
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Comments
These are terrible, terrible
These are terrible, terrible times Ralph. I've tried writing about this horrific situation myself but I can't find the words to describe the horror and dread that I feel inside.
The last two lines of your poem are perfect.
Well done you.
Turlough
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it's all we can do right now.
it's all we can do right now.
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Since Israel's successes in the 1967 six-day war
Israel has adopted a dangerous "holier than thou" position backed by US money.
They don't seem to undersand the concept that if you back a rat into a corner it will go for the throat.
Pity the European media has forgotten about the real threat to it's security further north.
I've given up caring about humanity. Now I sleep well at night
You poem hammers home the pointlessness of it all.
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