It’s a brand new big idea
The banned country of such size
So I want to make it clear
Either way it looks unwise
Wasn’t Germany at war
In Bach’s time, and wasn’t France
Fighting England till the score
Levelled up by circumstance
But they never used to ban
Scholars travelled, merchants traded
Painters painted, music men
Wrote their stuff while the crusaders
Fought their sacred wars whatever
The high goal was pursued then
But it didn’t seem too clever
In the past, to put a ban
There’s no other meaning to it
But revenge, to make the foe
More outrageous, and they knew it
Now it's what the wars are for.
Once there lived a wizard who practiced thumbcraft,
who conjured with swipes and spells from his draft.
He began just at two with a clever old trick,
skipping ads on YouTube with a finger click.
By five he could summon a friend with a ping,
And charm them to stay with a joke or a zing.
At ten, he was crowned the king of the feed,
And levelled though boredom at lightning speed.
At twelve, he could filter his face into gold,
Hiding the parts that were wrinkled or old.
As he grew, he summoned up worlds on demand,
And unlocked new spells with a flick of his hand.
He bottled attention in shimmering views,
Then danced for the lords of the infinite cues.
His magic wand was a relic with light in its core,
A whispering flame that murmured, 'more and more".
Very soon, his scrolling sorcery reached its peak.
As ghost-echoed laughter grew brittle and bleak.
So, sleep, my child, while the blue shadows swell,
For Thumb Ms. Flick has vanished—and become the spell.
"What we are doing to the forests of the world is but a mirror refection of what we are doing to ourselves and to one another.” Quote by - Mahatma Gandhi
----------------------------------------------------------
Specially designed knee roots
Stilt roots dig deep into soil
Abundant swamp water still
In evergreen tree forests
Dried up streams, levelled up swamps
Reveal more frustrated roots
Grinning at open clear sky
Deep in forest no new roots
Red-listed trees and insects
Red-listed flowers, reptiles
Sit as samples in glass jars
Dancing frog stuffed nice on shelf
Angelic damsefly sits
Still like an aura quartz branch
Forgetting which way to fly
To live untouched by human
Old flame memories, and game show repeats,
viewed through tobacco, it's smoke fills the room,
loneliness, only, stays glued to defeat,
blue-bottles, can't help, but choke on the gloom.
Dreams like the remote, corroded to rust,
unopened, unpaid, bills sit by the door,
surrendered and lost, to despair and dust,
no-one levelled up, around here for sure.
Each day's an ashtray, of stub filled regret,
while moth eaten drapes, block out the world's light,
another neat gin, will help to forget,
added indifference, towards day and night.
The blocked drains and sink, dirty old dishes,
all that remains of, yesterday's wishes.
"To begin with a healthy brain, before decay to mar this refrain”
*The Poet*
A simple man, with simple dreams,
Uncomplicated for what it seems.
Basic right back to the core.
Truth and wholesome and nothing more.
Making me, God levelled the score.
Simple living is all I am good for.
A serve of bravado, a healthy brain,
A sense of fairness to use now and again,
An eye for beauty for a wonderous scene,
A heart to lament what might have been.
A voice to cry out for those in pain.
Strong hands to toil to ease their strain.
A simple man with simple needs.
A simple life full of simple deeds.
I don’t reach for fame to compete.
Careful I don’t trample flowers at my feet.
To search right back to the core,
Sorry to say, you won’t find much more.
The Paragliders like ravenous vultures flew
to southern Israel to predate on soft targets.
Like swarms of bees, they snuck, raped, maimed, shot, burnt and slew.
Terror did every man's fragile conscience becloud.
Hate made their embittered hearts to mercy forget.
Abductions followed, having to terror avowed.
Then came the IDF's genocidal intent,
having intended global laws to circumvent;
Children, women, all consumed by mighty vengeance.
A disproportionate response beyond balance.
Homes, hospitals, Mosques, Churches and schools are levelled,
as Gaza is by torrents of bombs bedeviled.
I do not with a livid Israel sympathize,
nor do I with a besieged Gaza empathize.
With humanity I have my affinity,
for my deep love for it, tends to infinity.
When we kill a tree
Does a forest sigh
Rustle with grief that
One of them should die.
Is there apprehension,
Do the trees even hear,
The clinking clanking sound
As the felling gang draws near.
The real flowers of the world,
The lungs of the Earth,
Helping cleanse the air from
the moment of their birth.
Their beauty being replaced
By a much lesser scene
As we uproot the trees
To plant Soya bean.
Do the trees around the world
Hear the grieving crying
From swathes of woodland as
They sense their colleagues dying.
Will there be a memorial service
When they've killed the last tree
Will they follow into extinction
The last wild bee.
When the Earth is levelled
And sterile and neat
Under chamfered layers
Of reinforced concrete
And the air gets heavy
With every breath a chore
Each one less satisfying than
The one just gone before
Will we regret we didn't listen
To the almost silent pleas
That rustled through the branches
Carried by the last gentle breeze.
Will a silent protester
Surreptitiously sow
Handfuls of acorns to watch
New Oak saplings grow.
The morning is fair and without compare;
desire to escape commotion in motion.
With apologies to Frost, but I’m lost
in sylvan idyll; my thoughts to distil.
I should have turned left or maybe the cleft
ignored as the bend designates the end.
Peering into the void I can’t avoid
the nagging feeling that the sheep bleating
as they’re trudging through the mud, chewing cuds
on the road most travelled and levelled,
would’ve been easier terrain – not bane
of thorns and thistles. As temper bristles,
thoughts turn mutinous. Incongruously
I’ll save either way for another day.
Poetic form: Lannet sonnet
poeticsonline.com/glossary/lannet/
The column of Romans came from the east
They mowed down our stone structures
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
We were all intimidated as the amphitheater fell
This was totally unexpected and frightening.
We ran from them for there was no choice
They had the power, and they were fierce
We were minions, who only knew tools
We did not know weaponry or war
And we did not want to.
The city and its steel plant are now "completely liberated" after 531 Ukrainian troops left the site, the Russian defence ministry said.
Completely {
levelled, depopulated, desolated,
despoiled, vandalised, looted, pillaged, plundered,
devastated, desecrated, ravaged, violated, emptied,
laid waste,
razed to the ground,
scorched from the face of the earth,
annihilated, obliterated, eliminated. But
}
Liberated.
Though we have our ups and downs
On this path of life
Through happiness and sadness,
Harmony and strife
We come good from path we stood
On a levelled plane
With built in feelings for all dealings,
To withstand again...
A farmer met a wizard who was wearing odd regalia
The wizard gave him seed of magic carrots from Australia
You sow them just like normal but they all grow upside down
The leaves will grow like roots, the carrots stick out of the ground
The farmer dug and rotavated, levelled off the soil
He was super motivated, those seeds mustn’t spoil
He worked so hard, that shovel he was pushing and a shoving
When he was done his back was bad and now he’s good for nothing
Those magic carrots, upside down, all turned out to be beauties
But poor old farmer’s stuck indoors on lightweight household duties
He’s standing in the kitchen where he’s washing pans and pots
His wife is in the carrot field and smiling as she squats
when hunger howls & roars like lion
throwing rocks and pebbles at sun-drenched back
flipping its razor like fangs on helpless tummies
and striking with a devouring aplomb on defenceless intestines
i will thrust my head in between, recklessly
and die happily for you.
when dawn hastily runs and meets dusks
mind suffers as hypertension beats its devilish drum
reminding the pockets that emptiness is madness
a memory dead is brought alive to torment its bearer
agony painted the face with its beauty
because, i will die for you
when authority sent back children home
after endless whipping on their soft buttocks
allowing innocent tears to Cascade their saintful cheeks
for levies that levelled my moutainous hope to nothingness
i shall bald my head as a sacrifice to cement
because, i will die for you
i die in the morning, noon and night
i die blaming myself for my failures to meet your needs
i die seeking for solutions to end our woes
like a head abandoned by its body after a cut
i will fall & die for you, again & again
but if I may ask, will i live in your hearts?
I know not when we shall shake hands again
Or hold in warm embrace for the sheer joy
Of each sunrise and moonlight
For the plague and news of frightful deaths
In faraway lands
Have erected monuments of fear in our hearts
This scourge knows not the old or one with gold
It has made unsure the prophesies of seers
Who did not foretell its emergence from the East
Though bearers of the Rod of Asclepius have
Responded with their art
Each day is made uncertain
With sirens announcing the next patient for isolation
And the morticians awaiting the next carcass
Of the mighty and the lowly levelled by the plague
The king’s men and town criers have told of
The enormous chains at city gates
They have forbidden us to act as free men
But a woeful lot propelled by raw ignorance
Have defied the king’s edict and
Like stray goats tempting a rustler
They dare the plague to come nigh
Our store houses have grown lean
And Like a century ago
None from this can flee except
God shows mercy
Lockdown
Isolation
Social distancing
All words we would never have thought of when we started 2020
Yet here we are
Inadvertently forced to remain in our homes
Not everyone is handling this very well
In fact many are struggling
Yet in order to see another day, another month or year
This is our current situation
Life has thrown the world a curveball
- there is no throwing it back
We have to work through this
We have pray through this
We have to hope through this
We have to get that mustard seed of faith and cling through this
Cause no matter how rich or poor you are
There is no way you are immune
The playing field has been levelled
Let's not forget as long as we are alive
We can still make a difference
Even if that difference means having to stay at home
©wilmaneels
©13042020
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