See me in a dark cloud in the sky,
or in a river slowly flowing by,
a cherry blossom, pretty to the eye,
the child of Hiroshima.
In a bygone bouquet, given, nigh,
a question, "did she have to die?"
Hear only silence, my reply,
the child of Hiroshima.
In a borderless land with many others,
millions of sisters, millions of brothers,
when will we be found by our mothers?
Children of Hiroshima.
I am a never-ending sigh,
a lingering question, "why?",
you will never hear me cry,
the child of Hiroshima.
If you could have been
part of the population
in Hiroshima and Nagasaki
at ground zero
you would have seen
total annihilation
when the bombs were dropped
(Little Boy and Fat Man)
and if it weren't enough
you should become 'hibakusha'
victims of nuclear fallout radiation
the perpetrators censored the news
and only the survivors
were evidence all war must be stopped
The Eastern window is open
and early morning birds sounds
invade the room.
Drawn blinds are no defense
as one after the other
the inevitable rays of light
sneak in around each shimmering slat.
At 5 o'clock.
The sun hangs like a red ball
in the middle of the white horizon,
a flaming standard.
The steam clings softly to the
bathroom mirror and like misty,
glorified remembrances masks
the true man's reality.
At 6 o'clock.
A breeze brushes the wind chime
hanging by the kitchen window,
a tiny cry.
The slant of the August sun
is already painful to my eyes
and tears make short trips down
the side of a breakfast glass.
At 7 o'clock.
Across the street, a dry field
plays home to a waiting boxcar.
My gaze drops down.
Hot water burns the face
of the egg-covered plates
as the softened yolks
slide off like skin...
8:15 and 32 seconds.
Where are the songs of yesterday?
I hear the echoing screams.
Turn off the air conditioning.
Sit down in the halls.
It's not over until the last
Fat Man falls.
Do not produce children
telepathic hypochondriac...
don't transform girls
in symptomatic blind
don't do women
changed functions
think of the wounds
Like splenic roses
But oh don't forget
the rose of the rose
From the rose of Hiroshima
the perpetual rose
the radioactive rose
monstrous and stupid
The hepatic rose with cirrhosis
The anti rose, atomic
discolored and unperfumed
Sans rose sans nothing... !
PS Interactive reinterpretation of the poem Rosa de Hiroshima from Vinicius
de Morais, Brazilian poet BY Alkas poetry
All the lives did dwell in town,
Laughed and grew they all,
Then , Sun rose from land and covered the sand,
With a bloody pall.
The second sun came from the west,
Out on the land came he,
Coloured in the hue of mortal blood,
It wreaked the sorrow's sea!
No one shouted , cried, moved or ran!
In air vanished everyone,
Instead of light , they had gained,
Darkness from the rising sun.
Where they went? Oh! Where they went!
Knows no one , but the ground,
In bright light , from it's sight ,
Was gone, whatever it had found!
The smoke cleared and West cheered ,
For the battle it had won ,
Else no words , of praise were heard,
About that gory sun!
Mission accomplished
I cannot see the city
Just black boiling tar
By
David Kavanagh
Oh Miyajima
Where cherry blossoms fall
By the floating gate
Lucifer, To The Enola Gay
by Michael R. Burch
Go then,
and give them my meaning
so that their teeming
streets
become my city.
Bring back a pretty
flower—
a chrysanthemum,
perhaps, to bloom
if but an hour,
within a certain room
of mine
where
the sun does not rise or fall,
and the moon,
although it is content to shine,
helps nothing at all.
There,
if I hear the wistful call
of their voices
regretting choices
made
or perhaps not made
in time,
I can look back upon it and recall,
in all
its pale forms sublime,
still
Death will never be holy again.
Published by Romantics Quarterly, Penny Dreadful and Poetry Life & Times. Keywords/Tags: Hiroshima, Enola Gay, atomic bomb, explosion, mushroom cloud, Lucifer, Satan, Devil, chrysanthemum, sun, moon, voices, choices, World War II, war, death, violence, science, power, conflict
Under a clear blue sky
The old city
That once lay in ruins
Is now flourishing with life,
A Phoenix risen from the ashes.
W.A. CHOLT. Copyright Fergal O Reilly. 2018.
CIGARETTE IN HIROSHIMA
Press of a darkened switch
In a flash it was all over
Ignition of the lethal load
Surge of heat
Trembling with anticipation
Red hot glow afterwards
The familiar cloud of smoke
And just a trace of ash
I was caught off guard by the everlasting effect of your smile.
In all honesty I thought I was prepared for the well placed explosion that took place in my heart.
In actuality, I was not.
Absent minded to the total embodiment that was you.
The coming of your lips,
The taste of your stare.
I did not know the effect your voice would have on me.
There wasn't a prayer that could have prepared me for you.
There was nothing left of what my heart use to be.
The occurrence of everything obliterated; Emptied.
The horizon filled by your silhouette; my hands lost in the light cast
by the radiance of your smile.
I was reduced to nothingness in the blink of an eye by a single look cast from
The stare of your eye.
The total sound of nothingness filled my heart with a peaceful hush
after the destruction you've caused with just a single look.
Mushroom clouds
raining radioactive death
After the blinding light,
a wasteland is all that was left
Charred bones littered everywhere
Those who lived there
had their flesh vaporized into thin air
In the land of the rising sun,
a profound tragedy did unfold
A tale of two cities
Will the lessons learned take hold?
Hiroshima dreams
are nightmares you don't want
Eerie innocent screams
crying out, "please don't"
Nagasaki dreams
are nightmares you don't want to see
Horrific unspeakable scenes
are images you won't forget easily
So mark those who speak
with contaminated breath
Who would like to rekindle
the nuclear fires of death
It will be a long, cold winter
should their desire become manifest
So close your eyes and sleep now,
sleep well and gather rest
For you'll have Hiroshima dreams
to keep you warm at night
And drink a cup of Nagasaki spirits
to greet the sunless morning light
Hiroshima 8/6/45
The atomic slaughter
of war crime committed against civilian population
of entire city –
terrible explosion, fire, harmful radiation,
unleashed annihilation.
Victims’ souls shout at their perpetrators
of this horrible deed.
Our ancestors having learned to harness,
the tremendous power of atom bomb,
used these tools against their own kind.
The history of mankind is filled with wars
for power corrupts men.
May Hiroshima and Nagasaki
be the symbol of brutal atrocities,
shattered truth and time –
man broken inside out.
Perpetrators, obliterators of religion and moral laws
are distorted more than their victims –
of scars unhealed.
Hiroshima – inferno of boiling cloud.
Straight, direct meaning,
No ambiguity or question,
Of relationship or hearing,
Only malicious attestation.
Seventy-five thousand,
Killed by the 15 kiloton bomb,
In one there was no pasture land,
For the innocent overthrown.
Red fluid permeated,
Scolded the lungs of the fit,
No reactions competed,
With that rupture that lit.
Never again should war,
Take the lives of so many,
Because lifted is the bar,
On freedom and autonomy.
a motionless pond
reflects an unblemished sky
where war once swallowed the sun -
blossoms drift like tears
skimming over ancient wounds
while doves fly against the wind
===================
For Brian Strand's Contest: #218
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