War Baby

Another contribution from me to the Poets for Peace initiative.  If you would like to take part you have until end of this month.  Your efforts would be most appreciated.

***Future and previous contributors are asked to email mzanemcclellan@outlook.com giving permission along with name/url/location/ if you would like to be included in Praxis magazine. Please pass this message if you can.***

Children_In_iraq-iran_war4

Two World Wars and Counting …
In World War One less than five per cent of the casualties were civilians – with today’s conflicts and wars the figure is nearer 75%.

War baby –
once a bundle of mixed acquaintance,
temporary, hurried, desperate -joy.
Love ceased when war began.

War baby –
is war; a disfigured bundle no one wants to heal;
permanent, scarred, tragic.
Lives ending as many wars begin.

War baby –
his bloodlust flows within blood –
conflicts- hostilities-civil war- religion- politics
all given more oxygen than its victims.

Peace baby –
wants to stitch together old wounds
extremism-radical eyes-terrorism-fear –
gaping sores, rancid hopes, let clean air help them heal.

Peace baby –
tries to broker for change in the dust and rubble
but cherubs still cry beyond wire mesh –
gods and people are tired, and YOU are not worthy.

 

Splitting the Atom…Bomb

Second call for Poets for Peace and my 2nd contribution – thank you to everyone who has responded with kindness so far today…to help reach another 100 and more, go here and please leave your poem in the comments section of Neha’s blog and it will be added. https://forgottenmeadows.wordpress.com/2016/07/16/calling-all-poetscreative-minds-to-a-grand-collaboration-poets-for-peace/comment-page-5/#comment-19287

dove

We have accrued
a legion of wars over
centuries that pass like wandering
soldiers in our dreams
shattered by bombs and the broken
promises of liars and tyrants,
squeezing till we scream and succumb –
hoping we toe the line,
discard our beliefs, cease disrobing
moral injustices, cease clamouring
for peace and end our search for solutions.
Violence, hate, fear and terrorism is written
in unjust profit margins and margins
of error, meted out by greed, and as human traffic
we have become a bank balance of death
in their greedy pockets.
Nothing changes.
All this time we
remain nothing but
their small
change.

Only for a while,
for a moment, I thought
that time was going to change it –
when hate might become a memory –
 in a time of change,
forever?

We have scarce time,
myriad memories
and goals like pythons wind
around our dreams –
choking, crushing, till they seep
and we weep like spoilt children
when the charmer tames.
Changes are made but are
brushed aside with a sweep of an engine
flying aloft – metallic, death throes.
No change there, just death –
always at rest in someone’s
memory – all of the time, and which
will last
not only for a short time
but forever.
If we don’t change
in the times
in which we live,
these times
will never
change.

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