Tag: Hunger
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War on Ourselves
(A Ship of Fools on the Rocks) terrible images move on the screen, behind my eyes and in my brain, grafting in me the fear that death and hell are let loose in every terrain, gradually the shape of human kindness like milk looses its savour, and pools ungraciously in the stink of the piles of…
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Britain’s Future
Walking in town, once there was join our diversity, listening to the TV once there was good independent reporting, but some prefer oil, and sow, now the destruction of those that were loyal. —— Waking early, once there was the dawn chorus, sitting in the garden, once there was a hum of bees, but some…
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Autumn Grief
There was a time, I remember it well, When Autumn leaves and frosty grass meant warm home welcome and tasty hot food. That was then and this now. Heating’s off, bread is cheaper and hot meals spin the ever greedy meter. — Yet, its the same for them, the oil rich climate changers, coal fired…
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For all the Child Refugees like Gulwali
Rooted out of thin soil a strong plant yet to fruit, young in the ways of the world and old in the ways of faith. —— Prays and yearns for a vanishing childhood, adrift with callous, greedy men, dollar focused selling refugees for the highest payment. Yanked out by his family and circumstances, —- sent…
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Echoes in Faith
It is in the silence that he is usually there, in the angel music he will ordinarily speak, but like many who wander and wonder there is an emptiness and disconnection. —– Shadows of shapes where he used to be and a faint echo that which led to stability, a heavy heart hangs low, he…
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Refugee Children in the Hold.
A child can only look on knees, frail, loud, loving and free, hunting beetles, shedding tears, smelling the earth, ‘It’s nearer to me!’ —– A child can only look on knees, and spider webs’ silvery droplets, marvelling at the moon and stars, splashing in cool, cerulean seas. —- A child can only look on knees,…
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Hosanna!
Grief stricken, an empty armed mother wanders outside the city gates and meets the family leaving their home, empty pocketed, no wage to come. —- Misshapen people, ostracised sit in the shade of the tombs and rocks, longing for a health to enter the city where they are unclean, where deprivation, disease, death and hatred…
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Brexit’s Legacy
Startled by swiftness of the grievous downturn, he stood looking at his terraced house, once warm, once welcoming and in his hands were bulging bags, and his children playing their games on tech screens. Weary from work he held the bag from the Foodbank, and felt again the creaking of a body underfed and ——-…
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Budgets Kill
Blue eyes sunk in a worried face, dim with the ache of hunger, closing to hide the horror of cruelty in power and control. —— Brown ones too in the faces of children understanding that they are voiceless and that loving adults voted for —– this annihilation, bold policies that take their food, warmth, their…
