My sonnet for Poetry 201
I see the earth, its virgin glory spent
the forests dead, the mountains torn and rent
by conflict, and the hatred of the dead
who lie, old bones, beneath a lowering sky.
Gone now the tread of armies marching past
and sound of words long said, that never last.
But then, I look again, and hope revives
there are still left good men beneath earth’s skies
and women too, who seek to find a way
to bring back love, and let the children play
add nurture to the earth, throw out the dross
and help us to avert that last cruel loss.
I pray to God that we will find the right
before the world sleeps in eternal night.
Just burying my ball where you won’t find it…
Now you see me
now you don’t
Found poem for poetry 201. Plus some more photos…
…Please click on any photo for more detail. The poetry is not too good – a bit rushed today…
Wai-O-Tapu (Sacred Waters) is a large area of thermal activity north of Rotorua, within the active Taupo Volcanic zone. The area is very colourful due to the minerals held in suspension. The yellow is sulphur and the red-brown is from iron oxide. There are lots of boiling mud pools and the vegetation is mainly stunted Manuka.
Aargh – I missed yesterday’s poem – so here it is…luckily free verse this time, about hands
LISTEN TO THE PAIN
I unwrapped your heart today
from where it sat, cold, unfeeling
holding no-one’s hands
not noticing the world’s pain
I gathered up the sun’s warmth
and massaged gently each marble curve
to find the human flesh beneath
and help the blood to run, once more
to the beat of humanity.
But I fear it needs
a greater hand than mine
else all that remains
when the children cry
will be indifference.
© Maureen Sudlow
Another challenge for poetry 201 – this time an ode with use of an apostrophe…
Do you remember Mother,
this old muff, found in your drawers
as we took on the task of moving on?
How it warmed your old hands
when the blood flowed slowly
through your veins?
And I remember my own muff,
a warm and furry cave
that hid my hands
from winter’s biting chill.
An illusion of warmth
in an indifferent world.
© Maureen Sudlow
a re-hash of an old one I’m afraid…
held in the satin petals
of a flower
These lilies grow wild around here, and bloom every autumn, just to remind us that winter may come but will not last forever. That is my prayer for the world.