They Were Only Children

Gold cherry
Poem of the week

By lenchenelf

Sun, 01 Sep 2024
  • 1046 reads
13 comments
 

 

 

 

A movable city, pop-up-land, media hype for a wind-up-band

powering clockwork toys of almost adults, high raised hands,

fervent lyric and waved flag:

 

battered nylon waste left behind with their faded chorus,

an aftertaste of bank holiday frivolity, soon forgotten in their dust.

 

Pan across the World to clear polythene, crunch of limbs, organs

bagged in guess-the-weight of the child: seen,

but unseen; cameras shattered among gristle and bone,

a generation’s heart in stone,

 

 under 

 

another movable city, pop-up-land, media deadzone of unwanted man

splintered faces of those who had no chance to learn a lyric

or wave a flag.

 

Tentage removed by blast, reason becomes pulp in red, red dust.

 

 

 

 

 

Certificate 12
Poem
Camera Obscura
Other Non-fiction

Comments

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

layer upon layer of horror and wasted lives - a very powerful poem - thank you Lena

 

Submitted by HarryC on

I agree with Claudine.  It does what poetry is supposed to do: explode something inside my head - a sense of recognition, understanding and agreement - but in a way that takes me time to think through and unravel.  It says what I think, but in ways that I can't express.

Submitted by Di_Hard on

This very powerful expression of what so many of us feel, is Pick of the Day! Please do share if you can

 

Submitted by celticman on

red, red, and read. There should be rage, but it is hidden in pop-up stories. 

 

Submitted by HarryC on

And, according to figures I saw recently, an ever-growing number of adults now get their news solely from TikTok.  Who knows where that will lead...

Submitted by lenchenelf on

...for reading, there is so much nuance and complexity to a long term solution, I think we'd all agree we want it to stop, just stop, find a middle way.

Thank you for the cherries and Pick.

Best as ever

L

 

Submitted by HarryC on

I agree.  But I don't think enough people want it to stop.  It's like the worse the situation gets, the more people seem to want to make it worse.  Bigger, more wasteful, more extravagant.  I honestly believe that things will only start to change when the disasters get closer to home.  When the neat lawns and white picket fences start getting flooded or incinerated, and the SUVs washed away.  All the while it's happening elsewhere... it isn't happening here.

Submitted by onemorething on

Such a powerful and moving piece, Lena. Captures both the horror and the helplessness so well. 

 

Submitted by lenchenelf on

I appreciate your thoughtful reading of the piece.

Best

L x

 

Submitted by onemorething on

This is our Poem of the Week! Congratulations! 

 

Submitted by lenchenelf on

You are very kind,

Best

L

 

Submitted by Turlough on

Such powerful words L, with the last line really hitting home.

It's incredible to think that the situation has deteriorated further since you wrote this poem and terrible to see so many not just turning a blind eye but encouraging the horror. 

Good on you for expressing your thoughts and waking us up to this. A very much deserved poem of the week award.

 

Turlough

Submitted by Tom Brown on

Quity clear. I think you've made yor point.

Tom