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Alice Eagles Sep 2019
And in the morning I awoke,
sleep wearied
and bloated by experience,
to find all just as it had been but nothing the same...

The pale cast of nihilism
hung limp
over the morning's hillside
where an inconspicuous mist
had once resided.

Bless my mother's innocent
attempt to patch up my
Mind's muddied terror
with a strong tea
in her best china
by the bedside.

My boyhood mattress began
a demented laughing
in the face of brothers
with graves for beds
as I was, once again,
swamped with guilty memory
of the unheroic dead.

Those gentle youth
with minds full of
the names of wild flowers
and the rules of garden cricket
wrenched from the safe
musk of mothers
to the mud and
shrill choir of the shells.

The Air she would weep
for the loss of another pair of lungs she'd never inhabit again.
All the while, the Earth rejoiced
at the return of her creation.

That clay that once grew tall.
Outwards from the rib.
All for some fantasy and
trick of the flame.
Inspired by the haunting poetry of Owen and Sassoon and infused with imagery from Shakespeare's "Hamlet" to communicate the sense of an impossible and futile task resting on the young shoulders of WWI soldiers.
Nigel Finn Dec 2015
Some people write, but rarely read,
That seems to me most strange indeed,
They've read less than a hundred books,
Yet think they imitate the looks,
Of Sassoon, Cummings, Keats and Pound,
Or think they imitate the sound,
Of Lennon, Dylan, or Shakur,
And sometimes think they've offered more,
Than Chaucer, Wilde or Shakespeare could,
And claim they're more misunderstood,
Than even Salman Rushdie was,
Which really ticks me off because,
After having read such wondrous works,
A sense of failure always lurks,
Inside me whenever I write,
Yet they think they've done well tonight!
I hate them all! That's it - I've said it!
But they won't know until they've read it,
Which is quite doubtful, I'd attest,
Who'd read my work and skip the best?
We're all guilty of thinking a little bit to highly of ourselves sometimes, especially when we've recieved a bit of praise for what we've done, and I'm certainly no exception. It feels good, and there's usually no harm whatsoever in it. It's nice to feel that way sometimes. Some people, however, take the biscuit.

Yes, Kanye West and Katie Price - I'm talking about you, among others.

— The End —