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Rated: 13+ · Book · Personal · #982524
Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation.
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#982357 added April 30, 2020 at 12:47am
Restrictions: None
April 29: poem embedding a quoted phrase [57]
...our nerves are wound back to the breaking,
ears strained for the ghost of a wrong note.

From "Drum Beat: The Eleventh Night", a poem of Northern Ireland (1973) by Rosemary Canavan.

Mutiny

Our troubles started before Twenty-Twenty
but vision became blurred by constant lies;
hindsight sees so much more clearly.

As drumming of incessant nonsense
drowned out voices of reason, seldom
reached those who nurtured a conscience.

For there was enough blame to shame a nation,
enough hatred to hurry the end of our nation
as Our Dear Leader bowed to ovations.

What went wrong and when we asked ourselves.
We got fingers wagging, pointing. We might
as well have asked that damn elf on the shelf.

Now what will we do. Abandon ship, pink slips
in fists, ready to pummel those in our way?
Or will we look in the mirror and get a grip

and will we stand in lines to cast our vote.
... our nerves ... wound back to the breaking,
ears strained for the ghost of a wrong note.

KE [177.57] (29.april.2020)
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