Poets Trick

Poets trick

Poets write poetry of wind in trees.
Of flower laden meadows,
and the birds, and the bees.
Poets write of dreams and fantasy.
Sentiments and emotions.
Painting a picture of what they see.
Tender reflections in melancholic mode.
Of life and lives lived.
On life’s longest road.
Blue skies, blue oceans and feeling blue.
Of clouds parting.
Letting the sun shine right through.
Poets write of the weather and seasons.
Of nature, of life, of history.
As well as of many other reasons.
Poets write poems of suffering and pain.
The poets message.
There to remain.
A topic is a topic poets will pick.
To write poetry.
That’s the poets trick.

Escaping Mariupol

It’s quiet outside
The hush of the night as bombs fall silent
With the walls crumbling around us we stir
Looking furtively
Tentatively staring out from darkened windows
Each with their own fears
Children huddled in corners
Not knowing what’s occurring
The small smoke filled room stirring
The putrid smell of bodies decaying
Faeces piled high in corners
The stench of body odour overpowering
Outside the rubbled streets where we all once shared
Relatives and neighbours in a neighbourhood that cared
Now the journey begins
Trudging the battered street upon street
Blisters bubbling in search of new life
A better life
Our children we carry in our escape
Shattered, battered and sore
Our journey begins with a tentative toe
Stepping into the aftermath of war
Precariously opening the door
Our door to freedom
Of wars no one asked
Rising from the ashes of conflict
Lessoning the pain in our heart
A lesson taught never sought
Giving our children a valued fresh start

• Stephen