Sounds of a Day in the Past
Cherry Creek was a thriving small town
Children played on swings up and down.
They screamed with delight and why not?
Today with no school, so homework forgot.
How they laughed and frolicked and ran,
All cares forgotten, catch me if you can!
The swings were well-oiled and so no creaks
Could be heard, but happy they enjoyed their leaps.
Not far away, parents and singles formed a march
Protesting against chemical factory built beyond the arch.
Sounds of a Day in the Present
Cherry Creek is now a ghost town
And all the rusted swings are down.
The chemist factory spoilt their fun.
Children in Cherry Town were none.
So many died from deadly fumes
All protests covered in all newsrooms.
But to no avail, for protests fell on dead ears.
Parents left to other places shedding tears.
The only sound you hear is the wind
No swing moved, empty all rust lined.
But I forgot the sound of money,
The factory simply insults me.
Newsrooms Hanging in the Wind
David J Walker
I have been in them plenty
Spent my life attempting to empty
The world around me of its darkness
Its greedy hardness
Greeting me in a daily challenge
I knew that by the end, of the
6 O’clock news
I would win
My desk was an alter
My Olympic typewriter the
Printer of truth
The Newsroom itself a sanctuary
Immune to the retaliations of the
Exposed
Those were the days, I supposed
Would never end
But the final sign off has
Come and gone and
I left hanging in the wind
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