Florence wears her poppy with pride.
Bloody Mary at the ready ,
fag a dangle from painted lips,
burgeoning breasts child bearing hips.
All a wobble; she waits for the last post.
Lips a tremble; as she drinks a silent toast.
Her eyes and demeanour belie her pain the most.
An orphan of war; his body unfound.
Buried deep beneath foreign ground.
For peace he fought and lost his life,
then suicide tore away his grieving wife.
Alone, eyes all a puddle, she stands. Two minutes never brings them back. Silently clasping her shaking hands.
While, we all remember them.
Do you think my attempt is too fickle for such a poignant rememberance? Leave me a comment its good to talk.
Thanks to the artist of Florence who holds full copyright, giffy for use of tumbling animation. Both poem and poppies are my own.
I laugh until the air has gone
Then gasp to draw some in.
Speaking makes me happy
my smile shines from within.
But tear drops plop shamelessly
on cheeks that are too old,
to bear the sight of homlessness
amongst streets paved with gold.
With hope she looks for a coin,
or a sip, to ward away the shame.
Too hide the pain of life,
Done living on the game.
The want to wash away reality,
Replace life with dreams and cheer.
Or deathly silent moments
That dull the pain and fear.
We judge them so lightly
Label them; and sneer.
Not seeing their plight,
We rarely shed a tear.
So why not hovver in that doorway,
Stoop, and smile to say hello
Because they are only human
With no other place to go.
Continue reading “Empathy Calls .”
I take no credit for this tiny film, I couldn’t leave it where I found it please read and let me know how it made you feel. Thank you.
And most of all thank you Francine.
Thank you in advance to dream big dream often for sharing this post so hopefully more visitors watch this 4 minute story which is going to alter your day press Here to promote a post of your own. Thank you.
I pressed Facebook, I heard a ping,
I came across an extraordinary thing.
It wasn’t a cat or pointless meme
It was the love of humanity.
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