English summer
Imagine
the tingle
that slides up your back
as the sea pops into view over the last hill;
the clack
and grind of multi-shaded
pebbles beneath your flip-flopped feet;
the slip
of sand, damp from licks
of sea foam between your toes;
the drip
of orange lolly juice
down suntanned holiday fingers;
Country lane
dream
of hedge-tunnelled, bendy lanes
ancient barrows, poppied,
ochre crop fields;
of scarred and ruined castles,
forgotten churchyards, soaring
spires and ancient chancels;
of cities, cosmopolitan,
walled perhaps or slumbering
through Britain’s summer recess.
Britain is burning
Wake up
to the stink
of our towns and cities burning
at the hands of twelve year olds;
to the loss
of home and livelihood,
possessions looted, lost;
to the pain
of memories crushed and cindered
trust, destroyed for ever;
to reality
homes, shops, cars on fire
because it’s just ‘a laugh’
and
they do it
just because they can!
Aftermath
What kind of people want to do this??
I like the contrasts – the intro, happy holiday images and then the brutal slap of the current reality of mindless urban unrest. Brilliant imagery. (Apologies if you got 2 replies from me, blame it on the computer) Sue
they do it just because they can,
true.
thanks for the support to us in the past.
Oh I blame a great deal on my computer Sue…thanks for reading and commenting.
Loved this poem, the contrast worked so well. I’d love to see your thoughts on my poetry sometime.
A great poem Sally.
I love the contrast to all that is wonderful and beautiful in our lives against the madness of recent days. Linked with the pictures this was a powerful read.
Thanks.
The utter madness of those few days also prompted me to write this:
http://mjshorts.wordpress.com/2011/08/10/days-of-madness/
Thank you Mike..