Terry Robinson Poet Free verse

And the Writing's On the Wall

From cave pictures, with hand sprayed self portraits.
To a churches pulpit displaying Psalm Twenty Three.
The writing's on the wall

From mud huts to stately homes.
The writing's on the wall

From the bullet chipped, blood soaked wall of the firing squad
To the nail driven torso hanging from the eaves
The writing's on The Wall

From the cleaved head. Reminiscent of Salome's deed.
To a child's barrel-bombed and desecrated body, too
late to share the uncorrupted mind.
The writing's on The Wall

And from the push of the first button to the push 
of the last button. 
There will be NO writing on the wall
Is that the writing we want for us?

The world is at war and humanity is in flames.
And I have tears. But, nowhere to cry

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Keith Bickerstaffe December 8, 2015 at 4:10 AM '...I have tears. But, nowhere to cry,' such anguish. '...the nail driven torso hanging from the eaves' and '...a child's barrel-bombed and desecrated body.' horrendous images to the repetition of your title line. Superb work my friend. Best wishes, Keith Keith Bickerstaffe December 8, 2015 at 4:33 AM I am by no means a practiced hand at this game, but I can recognize true talent when I see it... Terry Robinson December 8, 2015 at 4:29 AM Keith, if nothing else, your recent comments have brought encouragement to a new hand. Many thanks for taking the time to read my poems.

Anna Hopper November 21, 2015 at 5:58 AM Beautifully deep, intelligent and meaningful write. Very powerful and relavent! A 7 Terry Robinson November 21, 2015 at 6:15 AM Thank you Anna