When, as I awake, I hear the first sweet trill
A sound bite of the morning light
Hope! A note of things to come
As one by one other birds herald the rising sun.
The auditorium rustles to the moving of the throng
Who settle down to listen to the beating of the drum
The instruments of orchestra make heard the sweetest song
Of music through the air cascading to the thrum.
A mother in quiet repose sleeps, baby at her side
She wakes at the sounds of the little one’s request
And gently lifts her babe to her engorged breast
Smiles with pleasure at the suckling infant
And of a greedy hunger satisfied.
The sun kissed bather sits looking out to sea
The waves come in rolls battering the beach
With scum edged foam they hiss their quick retreat
And leave the shifting sands to sigh in misery.
The falling water from a great height hits its base
With savage clamour
A battering ram could never sound so fierce
As the rocks on which it falls below
Wear away little by little with each timed blow.
The bomber makes its bloody way to war
And drops its cargo over all
The sound is one I wish to hear no more
For it takes all our souls … that is the law.
3 comments:
It was great to have you join us Fiona 😊😊 I like the way the poem begins with hope and beauty, but ends with the discomfort and horror of war, perhaps challenging the way we look at things. Something writers should do!
Beautiful images with a very effective shock ending! I like this a lot.
Beautifully composed Fiona. We have so much in the world to give us pleasure but always the horrors of the world infiltrate to give us discomfort.
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