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Bill Higham Mar 2016
And these men that made the land,
That wove their dreams with dust and dirt,
That needed death to know the flower,
Men of the corrugated country.

Men of bones,
Propped in the rusted windy ruins,
Who watched the movement of the birds
And bartered life with sky and earth.

Men of the drought's bare-cupboard cradle,
Biblical through plague and famine,
Who struck the water in the stone
And fought with flesh to swell the soil.

Time's weathered toys,
Who sought a garden in the sand,
Where the withered streams of the dry season
Flowed with flooding summer rains.

Men of the dark deserted spaces,
That masked their ruined stars with drink,
That fed the shadows with strange desires
And drowned the broken plough with tears.
Sean Hunt Dec 2015
Ferry Christmas

There is no snow
Now 'tis the season
To get a little wet
Why are Brits surprised
When they're
Up to their eyes
In water?

When we weigh in stones
And drive on the wrong
Side of the road
Why wouldn't abodes
Begin to float?

We foreign men
Have seen some signs
We're not surprised
By what we see
In the Queen's country

The land's a little low,
And a little high
Are the lakes and sea.
There doesn't seem to me
Much mystery.

Ferry Christmas!
If the sea surrounds us all
It'll be 'The Life of Pi'
When we have to abandon
This English atoll

Sean Hunt
Windermere Xmas 2015
Sally A Bayan Oct 2015
Black Trees haikus
  
The lamp post leans...light,
is dim...the wind blows...rain, falls
black trees...sway on wall

loud pitter-patters
drop...pound heav'ly on the roof
black trees...droop on wall

ceding...accepting...
floods rush...spreads all over...the
black trees... sway no more

roots have lost their grip
too much water...inundates
black trees...surrender

life...is like a tree
there are many elements
water is just one

nothing's permanent
floods recede...sun returns...then
black trees sway once more.


Sally

Copyright October 18, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
...too much rains now...
Ignatius Hosiana Jun 2015
WAR
Is out there on our own lovely streets
In the souls of those the world mistreats
In the roughing waves threatening to wash us all
In the despondence of the **** victim's unanswered call
It's that long journey without a clear destination
It's the desperate cries in the broken heart of every nation
The heartbreak caused with no intention
It's the one without an answer,I mean the question
War is that desperate pregnant teenager attempting abortion
It's the *** slave in a foreign country up for auction
It's the slum child fighting with the bursting river banks
It's in the mind of the soldiers riding tanks
Doing what they can to rise up the ranks
And evade taking more innocent lives in mega chunks
It's the hopeless immigrants drowning on the mediteranean
It's the nuclear threatened Iraqees and Iranians
It's a *** hole forcing the driver to swerve and lose control
It's the tears of the fishermen catching nothing for days in their trawl
It's the worries in that littl'un fearing darkness
The priest's daily prayer,battling temptation, human weakness
War is another name for the famine eating the tribes in the arid north
It's the thought of a refugee mother whose child's got stunted growth
It isn't the opposite but the total absence of peace
It's a robber who loots everything, including bliss
It's a nightmare to the leader stuck in a seat
And the zealous opposition unaware of his inner heat
It's a hustle by the team which can't admit defeat
It's the struggle of an accident victim trying to regain his feet
It's in the believer's hope to see Jesus return tomorrow
Right before the entire globe sinks in ****** sorrow
It's the worries of a father who's spent his entire adult life unemployed
The uncertainty for a recruit in a war zone,just deployed
War is the puzzled gambler pondering suicide when he loses the little he borrows
It's the pastor wondering wether or not to dive in and save the drowning morals
War is that person perturbed, wondering why the hell he was created
War is all the choices you made and regretted
War is a three letter word,with a long meaning
Which some say is the only reason the globe is spinning
All are at War Them who are in Struggle
But there's no struggle that can't be overcome
Dedicated to all victims of War and struggle, happy to say I'm one of you
Megan Leigh Mar 2015
I am not a door mat.

You can’t just come in and out whenever you please, stepping all over me as you do so.

"Welcome home."

A home is supposed to be comfortable, and that is one thing I am not, and so you are no longer welcome.

My door is shut, locked twice, chain and ****, tight as ever.

Nothing is getting in, so you can stop banging and yelling.

Although this is the most emotion I’ve seen you express in God knows how long, and you look so handsome through the peephole.

You knock so hard it almost feels like the wood is going to crack under your fist, but I built it to endure even the most powerful storms.

I’ve created floods stronger than your knuckles, earthquakes with my wails and hurricanes with my spinning, swirling mind.

You think you can break me, but you can’t, because I’ve already tried.

And trust me when I say, no one wants to destroy me more than I do.
Zainab Attari Sep 2014
Flooded and doomed alone I stand
Helplessly watching my people fall out of my hand
I wish I could quaff down this copious water
And save them all from this clutter

It takes me back to the bloodshed
When innocent Kashmiris time and again bled
For a war that thrived for my land and soil
Helplessly watching it made my heart coil

I wish to break into a million pieces
When I watch these sorrowful bruised faces
But I am the king of the north
I need to stand tall and face the wrath.

But oh Allah, tell me why do my people suffer?
Can you give me the power to buffer?
I, Jammu & Kashmir plead you to glorify us all
We cannot take another fall

I dream of a day full of joy
Where guns are never replicated even as a toy
I dream of freedom from all bad omen
Please bless each animal, child, man and women.

The people of Pakistan and India are welcome on my land
Only with friendly non-armed hands.
You have no rights to claim me
I am the creator’s property, you shouldn't break me.
A poem written on the recent disastrous floods in Kashmir and the past conflicts in Jammu and Kashmir, India. Around 100 villages were dommed in the recent floods in Kashmir. May they receive peace and blessings from the almighty!

-Zainab Attari
Alex Granados Aug 2014
Your tears are like flash floods;
Sudden and no warnings in sight.

They catch me off guard
In the silence of the night.

A perpetual rain
Still pours in the moments

Between my thoughts
And my afternoon walks.

It's like I awake from a dream
With no recollection in mind,

Only sadness is left in my eyes
To glisten in the morning sunlight.
- A&G
Marly May 2014
I never used to cry this hard, not even when he was pronounced dead.
They pronounce you dead because that becomes your new name; you are nothing but a carcass that needs to be dealt with before it rots.
Sometimes I see him, with a daisy tucked behind one ear and a pen behind the other.
Bare-footed, of course.
He always told me how important it is to know as well as to feel where you are going.
Death is more than an acquaintance to me, we've met on many terms.
The first time I encountered death was when she carried a part of me there in her *****.
I never left and I don't think I ever will.
You broke the dam behind my eyes (you made me feel like I never thought I could) and I don't have enough materials to patch it up.
I'm desperately trying to fix myself but I can't; you're holding of my resources in your arms instead of holding me.
Please put your lips on mine before I drown us both.
Thia Jones Mar 2014
England is waterlogged
becoming submerged
nascent Atlantis
surrendering to the tide

Sink holes in Hemel
sunk homes in Surrey
hanging railways in Devon
****** cafes by the sea

A damp apocalypse beckons
it may get wetter yet
now that rain reigns
Britain is ruled by waves

Cynthia Pauline Jones 15/2/14
Inspired by the February floods!

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