Candy-floss clouds in the morning sky
Mist and magic, days gone by
Hundreds of Jinny Jo taking flight in the wind
Translucent specs, carrying hopes and sins
In the valley a teenager is plucked from this world
The paperwork's ready, it’s all unfurled
His loved ones hearts are pulled asunder
He wasn’t ready, the strike of thunder
A child tells her mother that life’s not fair
Her tummy is rumbling, the cupboard is bare, no time for her to stand and stare
No parties, no shoes, no laughter to give
It’s hard to be aspirational when you have nowhere to
live
A woman hides behind a broken door
His hand came down, she hit the floor
She wonders how to escape his touch
But there’s no safe place. They cost too much
The old man waits on a rickety trolley
Bed blockers, they call them, on an NHS jolly
His feet are cold and his lips are dry
Robbed of his dignity, he longs to die
Candyfloss clouds in the morning sky
Mist and magic, days gone by
Hundreds of Jinny Jo taking flight in the wind
Translucent specs, carrying hopes and sins
*Jinny Jo is the term many Irish people use to describe Dandelion
seeds. You make a wish and blow them in the air.
It was national poetry day in
the UK on Thursday, so I had a bash at writing this poem incorporating some of the
news stories that moved me this week.
No comments:
Post a Comment