Daily Archives: May 3, 2017

My Land by Ananya S Guha

I am not a silent poet

Wounded is my land
hurts at every hill, valley
mountains, or in sultry plains
Even when a bird soars across
winged skies, it hurts
never know when it will plummet
down to seas or, deep deep gorges
..
Strange is my land
there are mosques, temples, churches
synagogues even
But it hurts
never know when blood
will splatter across their sacred walls
..
Historical is my land
when the plains rumbled with  battles
foreigners unsettled came to settle
there were wars and canons
but it hurts
you never knew who would win
who, lose and who the traitor!
..
Penurious is my land
but it hurts to see them
sleep by pavements after
selling their wares there
..
Uneducated is my land
little children don’t go to school
they sell, or steal or serve tea
And their parents beat them.
Even sell them in a growing
demand and supply market.

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Brexit Passions by John Alwyine-Mosely

I am not a silent poet

I am condemned by others, wearing Asda’s finest, loving the curry, hating the Indian, them that visit Spain for sun with chips, who thought Labour was for the working man, they made the cross of wood and nails of iron.

That I must carry as this was born of my silence as factory whistles and streets of common worth became black and white movie reels.

Yet I stumble at shaky pensioners wanting back a childhood of back to backs and Empire cakes, and the Daily Mail Pharisees preaching whose life, whose tongue, speaks for me. Yet where was I when the tree was fell and the coal dug for the smelt of iron?

I watch a man round as a cottage loaf, t-shirt bare arms showing tattoos of faded love and sinking ships as a woman, hair dyed young, worn jacket too big for a shrinking body, kisses away his…

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