The modernization of Shakespeare plays
'theater' for the unversed
Catering to narrow appetites
increases their bloody thirst
“The Refugee”
She stood naked
as the soft sprinkling of
water cascaded down
her war torn body.
The scent of concrete dust
still in her veins.
The sound of bullets still
ricocheting through her brain.
Black powder on her skin.
The long frozen road.
The nights without sleep.
Her baby in tow.
The raping of her soul.
Running for life,
Away from the fight.
Leaving footprints in the snow.
Bloodied glass on her domicile floor.
Her tears poured
as the water caressed
her tried body
washing away those sins.
A bar of soap
will never erase.
A fountain of warmth
will never reclaim.
She somehow survived
those evil men.
Reflecting the life she led
before they came.
The warm water
streams down
her naked body.
3/12/2022
The New Boy
David J Walker
The boys playing in the alley
Turned into a prehistoric combat team
As soon as they learned
That a New Kid was in town and
Had stepped on their turf
The Rock Fight was four on one
When it begun and could not
be avoided even though
Most rocks flew through the air
Hitting inanimate objects everywhere
untargeted
I drew the only blood spilt
In the killing zone when the lilt
in one little boy's voice cracked in pain
and went crying home with a
Bloodied Lower Lip
There was a truce for the night and the
Next day the leader of their gang fight
Became
My new best friend
When Dad heard
He just said
You could have put his eye out
You know
And that’s when the threat
of another rock fight
Came to an end
Until another new boy moved in
Poppies blossom in a field
Where young men once fought
Their stories now forgotten
As are the lessons that were taught
It's blood red petal
Is caught by the breeze
It's flight brief and glorious
Falling on Europe's leas
A mother's hopes come crashing
With fists knocking on the door
Grim faces hide emotion
Another casualty of war
A hundred years have now passed
With lives still being lost
Leaders chests still being beaten
Detached feelings of the cost
one bloodied pencil stub
If “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger”
then I’ll have one muscle bound corpse
and one bloodied pencil stub.
Let us define death
as the absence of ….
innate qualities
life’s essentials
buried beneath
the fear of exposure.
And strength
…..let us describe strength…
as the tenacity of life’s
indefatigable longing
to survive
……to persevere
…….to triumph
over the doubts of
…….death’s doomsayers
To be exhumed
…….from the fear
………of writing
…….By writing.
73 words February 24, 2017
submitted to – What Doesn’t Kill Us – Poetry Contest
One day, you'll be dead to me
My life is a hazard to everyone
And myself
My desperate detestation for you
The way you are
What you do
How you breath
My hatred for you is an endless pit
Of Hell and dark memories
The heart inside my weeping chest
is sewn in grotesque shades of purple
and its all your fault
You're a beautiful creature
of misery and despair
the painful tears you shed
slowly pull up the corners of my lying mouth
to my sweet, innocent ears
I want your head on a stake
bloodied scissors in your chest
your blood in a jar
You disgust me
the twinkle in your eyes is a knife to my neck
soon to be turned on you
cutting out every bleeding piece
of your perfect soul
One day you'll be nothing more
then a crying, screaming memory
a haunting melody that plagues my sorry heart
My love for you is a complete lie.
.
Once again, the bell rings.
The crowd's blood-thirsty roar
explodes as a thunderclap.
The arena's skydome trembles.
The gloved gladiators,
as blood-crazed predators,
fiercely glare and growl
in murderous rage and hatred.
Each one's whole being reduced
to the moment's sole purpose
of utterly destroying the other,
for fortune, pride and fame.
They clash anew, after a hurried
sign of the cross, while mumbling
to their God of love and mercy
...a bleeding, bloodied prayer !
.
Conflicts and troubles
Continents and tribes
Tomorrows left reft
Children, their future
In wanton describe ~~~~~
Maiming to kill
Shooting to thrill
Crimson will spill
Genocidal ~~~~
Soldiers they
Boys and girls
In whose world ~~~
These young
Bloodied ~~
Souls ~
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-7.php
Barefoot and bloodied
I run towards the blinding light
On paths of broken glass
Shattered memories
That I can never seem to forget-
Barefoot and bloodied.
once again, the bell rings....
the crowd's blood-thirsty roar
explodes as a thunderclap,
the arena's skydome trembles,
the gloved gladiators,
as blood-crazed predators,
fiercely glare and clash
in murderous rage and hatred,
each one's whole being reduced
to the moment's sole purpose
of utterly destroying the other,
each one ferociously lusting
after money, pride and fame,
after a hurried sign of the cross,
after quickly mumbling to the God
of love and mercy...a bloodied prayer !