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eleanor prince Jul 2018
richly held
hidden in
fractured chest

big people
shifting boxes

a child's fissure
clasping favourite shell

swift salvage
in tight world
rescue from
gaping hole

#family #disruption #moving #treasures #mementos #lost #ignored
For a very young child, moving house can be incredibly bewildering, disruptive, even traumatizing, especially when moving countries tends to mean belongings need to be severely curtailed.  Few remember their own childhood attachments, closely held treasures, even if perceived by harried adults as inconsequential as a bag of broken seashells.  Would a little more listening and empathic explanation with kindness ease things well at such transition times
Laz Farrell Feb 2018
His face was too familiar
The unwanted and out of date
A real gentleman
Someone who cares
Despite that prevailing optimisim
What’s he here to do
I appreciate you coming
That deep burning brow
Handing it to a shocked friend
Whose schedule don’t allow
I’ll learn to compromise
Despite significant disruption
I still won’t show any reaction
Angelina Aug 2016
Right now, as we speak, there's a little boy, aged five
Pushed aside on the corner of his mat, where he naps
His fingers are clenched onto shredded crumbs of bread
He managed to get his hands on this morning despite his mother's constant nags
About having to save the last few bits for his new born sister  
Ashes and rubble are his best friends ever since he can remember
Disturbance aches him no more
For everything he's ever known are dents  
He wouldn't know what the other side of the rainbow looks like, let alone both
For he's never encountered a rainbow during his yelps of pain
Pressure, abundance of destruction, humiliation
His innocent weeps never reach aid
He is now used to it
No more room to present emotion
For everything he's encountered will forever be frozen in time
He wouldn't know what peace is, ever
For contrarily that would be foreign to him
Therefore, somewhere in this world, silence takes over
This little boy whose whole life has been built on lies and disruption
E Townsend Sep 2015
They say you can’t keep your prying eyes off of a w r e c k.

The extended siren diminishes even as it creeps closer,
the road only grows harder, pierced glass and incarnadine blood.

Clear in your head where you're setting those sights,
disregard the stench of burnt metal and the doused fire of the passenger seat,
block out the screams that streams into your ears.

There is nothing to be curious about.

The slow, infantile pause while your pitying gaze
shifts across the midnight scene
is the only thing the jaded victims can feel,
beside the rusted pain destroying their decaying bodies.

Strangers are the distraction from the d e s t r u c t i o n.
Sam Haidan Apr 2015
Daggers. Guns.
Fire illuminating,
The once peaceful streets.
One or all will fall tonight.
One or all will fail tonight.

Helpless screams,
Awakening those asleep.
The once quiet streets.
One or all will cry tonight.
One or all will die tonight.

Chaos creeps,
Whispering to those naïve.
The once fragile streets.
One or all will fear tonight.
One or all, say a prayer tonight.

For unleashed are the devils,
Hidden amidst the darkness.
Unleashed are the angels,
Killing behind their shadows.

Unleashed are the devils,
Hidden amidst the darkness.
Unleashed are the innocent,
Killing everything that shown.
This one's about war, and how the innocent and brave are made to **** under the notion of patriotism, while the people incharge stay behind closed doors.
Action can
Create crisis-



Don't fall victim
To Ego's

Hold fast
The light
You've been


From the
Ides of March.

Tread lightly,
My dears.

Walk soft,
With good thought-
Your mind
And sit guard
Your soul.

Chaos' Shadow
Is passing by-

Much is brewing
Has been for
So long.

It was
Four years ago,
We knelt
Pregnant with terror
Of what life was
Hurling our way,

And here we are
Nearing the end


As we must.

The final
Square off

Speak softly,
My dears,

And again,

Tread lightly.

Deceit is slinking

But trust your heart
And what you've learned
For tomorrow,

It finally ends,

Either one way
Or, some other


It finally begins.
As poets, we are naturally sensitive to the moods and shifts of nature and life itself. But tomorrow is gonna be quite the day for all of us (well, today.  2.37am here). Those more sensitive to these may have already felt this coming. And if you've really been paying attention, you know this chapter truly began about four years ago for us all. I don't know if I'm ready for this, but I like to believe I've been well prepared.

— The End —