Lost on the Train #Ukraine #poetry

 

Uneven are the clickity clack

as the wheels slide along rails

It’s hard not to echo silent  words

that I heard on that Crimean train

the subtle all but lost

except in the shudder of the cars

the steel sparking off the tracks

Clickity clack they gossip

“she was thrown from the train – here

they meant to kill her

but the people without faces knew

she was alive”

I caress the worn boards

wanting to hear and see

splinters had achieved their goal

men’s hearts pierced

women and children sent away

my eye captures what would have been a tear stain

had they not cut it out

tossed it after the woman

hoping all the time that society would forget

how to love life

and man would graze with the cattle

women would bray like the ass

children would not feel  freedom

of grass tickles their bare feet

Deep is Winter #poet #winter #sorrow #Akhmatova

golden sunrise 2

Memory of the Sun

Memory of sun seeps from the heart.
Grass grows yellower.
Faintly if at all the early snowflakes
Hover, hover.

Water becoming ice is slowing in
The narrow channels.
Nothing at all will happen here again,
Will ever happen.

Against the sky the willow spreads a fan
The silk’s torn off.
Maybe it’s better I did not become
Your wife.

Memory of sun seeps from the heart.
What is it? — Dark?
Perhaps! Winter will have occupied us
In the night.

Anna what would you say of your people’s strife in Ukraine today? You who understands such chilling silences and loud absences of loved ones. You speak of a winter that you know too well.
I am just learning about this Ukranian/ Russian poet.  Anna understood the pain of having a pen that spoke for her and those she loved died because of the ink that never got a chance to dry.
Her life is winter
icicles cling to the forlorn
 spring – an idea
*
Mdw
(out of love for Anna)
winter scene
 On the 8th the world celebrates Woman’s Day. What better way to do so than to share the work of a strong poet who suffered much at the hand of communism. I share her words with Poet’s United as well.

All I Have Are Ashes #Akhmatova #poet #societalcancer

 winter scene

I’ve cried for seventeen long months,
I’ve called you for your home,
I fell at hangmen’ feet – not once,
My womb and hell you’re from.
All has been mixed up for all times,
And now I can’t define
Who is a beast or man, at last, 
And when they’ll kill my son.
There’re left just flowers under dust,
The censer’s squall, the traces, cast
Into the empty mar…
And looks strait into my red eyes
And threads with death, that’s coming fast,
The immense blazing star.

~above is an excerpt from “Requiem ” by Anna Akhmatova*

Tears mingle in the dirt
whose ashes are these?
they look familiar
momentarily my tears sparkle in the mud
“oh yes that was my first love
he died at the hand of Lenin
my son is still awaiting my tears”
the ashes have worked their way
into the fabric of one shoe
clinging to memory
“please God  give my frailty a purpose”
this shoe I ask that they not take 
I must cling to it for warmth

when the winter breezes dry my once fresh skin
kiss my cheek with remnants of him…
~mdw

(my echo of a poem to this Russian woman who knew such pain)

Anna Akhmatova is known as one of Russia’s finest female poets. She lived during a time when freedom of artistic expression was unwelcome. Her losses were many…

This is being shared with Poets’ United Midweek Motif the topic Cancer.

This recent poem Winter’s Accusation deals with cancer the disease. I write occasionally about it but I usually try to stay clear of those doors.

Follow the Leader #pipeline #Ukraine #poetry

earth

Politicize

if you may

the value of children

who are out to play

call them back before it’s too late

life is cheap

at the pipeline grate

***

Ukraine it seems

is in a vise again

always in the middle

of stronger men

goose step then

tank track now

raise your arm

don’t take a vow

***

protect the children

of the world

solemn salute

the flag unfurled

we’ve lost the vision

the value of life

we love our money

“all hail the pipe”

***

Have you ever played “Follow the Leader”?

It is a game that I played often with the children I taught in Crimea.

Funny thing they like to play the same games as children all over our world.

Yet, they don’t seem to have the same right to enjoy the freedom to romp as Ukrainians.

The world’s politico is too busy playing their own form of “Follow the Leader” to care.

Believe In Change #poetry #Crimea

SB Pier

Rise up say your piece

unite for a cause

stem unreason’s tide

truth above the laws

hold back foolish notions

punish not our beliefs

this cause may seem deranged

 generations filled with grief

**********************************

with unrest we can’t sleep

we are in need of change

no silence we will keep

set things in motion

stop machination’s jaws

people side by side

upend meaningless clause

our world in need of peace

*

The ESL work I did in Crimea was over the summer.

I would be preparing now to leave.

Where are those students today?

Who knows?

Who

Cares?

 

The Poet’s United Midweek Motif is prompting poets to write about public protest.

Poets and artists have always had a voice that rings truth.

What do you feel strongly about?

I am saddened by news coming out of Crimea.

 

 

 

 

Under Glass #crimea #Ukraine #photography #poetry

under glass

Like a science project

something to be analyzed

we never touch you

we only observe

write the data

pen the findings

draw a conclusion

You in the world’s fishbowl

swimming against a red tide

only to find

all of your school is missing

though the report

“only a few are dead”

Brilliant you fighting fish

swimming in cadence

parading about in colorful costume

destroying the inhabitants

watery souls

face down in the sea

****

I can find nothing about friends who reside in Crimea.

Ukrainians who love their country are threatened with each step .

My friends where have you gone???

 

Retreaded Spoils #children #poetry

shadows

Cheap like retread tires

flying off into the distance

oh, you so soon forgotten

what did you stand for?

you could not have had feelings

for who would tread over humanity?

no one feels anymore

certainly not girls

whose wasted lives

embraced at the slave block

the pivotal point

where statesmen make lofty speeches

in the shadows of no one listening

****

Malala a school girl who understands the issue over the Nigerian school girls urges action.