The Common Things

The common things that make life worthwhile,
Like the sparkling of a baby’s smile,
Or the thread of hope that his presence brings,
That binds each soul to share common things.

The look of love in a young girl’s face
As her father’s touch; wipes away the trace
Of the tears she shed for our fallen doves
At the hands of those, with no look of love.

The pain of grief in a mother’s heart
As she mourns for those who are torn apart
By the sense of loss for a life made brief,
She will bear for all, her pain of grief.

The helping hand that is reaching out
In some small way, to turn hate about
By works of good in a desperate land;
May we all reach out, with a helping hand.

The common things that we humans share
May they forever be brought to bear;
The touch of love, the hope that clings
To a helping hand, sharing common things.

14/9/15

Ante Bellum

Before the war, we hate and we love...

When the bombs go off, it’s with a flash of light and a splash of colour on a vibrant night. Youthful revellers, relaxing at ease, enjoying a city which is eager to please.
But that flash of light, cruelty belies, a message of terror, of life denied. A challenge to liberty and freedom of speech; no less than a challenge to love’s outreach. Hatred is sewn in a bed of need, it flowers in fear, but is nurtured by greed. Love begets that which hatred abhors and likewise hatred poisons that which love should cause.

A boy of ten in a foreign field harvesting crops with a pitiful yield listens in silence to a drone overhead to the humdrum hum of a family dead. So what choice do we have in our liberty’d lands? Should we suffer attacks at our enemy’s hands? Or fight fire with fire, an eye for an eye, send soldiers to fight, to kill and to die?

Or should we take the hardest of paths; ask the world to bear witness and learn from our past? To turn the cheek, and refuse to react? With violence, and hatred and force, inexact? Instead carry a message of peace and respect, education and tolerance and in every aspect; improve the lives of the children, let them share in our wealth. In short, with arms open, should we love hatred to death?

17/9/15

Following. . .

registering my appearance

#NoToTheLead

It’s not enough, kill and maim,
Call it sport, shooting game,
Blasting lead all around.
Left to poison, open ground.

Hundreds shot, in one day,
Vicious types, out to play,
Will not change, not at all,
Spreading out plumbic pall.

Nature’s bounty takes the hit,
Birds and beasts, poison grit,
Do they care, see the pain,
Only see what they gain.

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danbrowndmf:
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llaykorn:


My mail has stopped working. BBM? 3346E25B

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llaykorn:

.

Thanks man... U can edit

As a young man
He was standing tall
Convinced one day
He'd rise above them all
Yet the cracks were already appearing
In his characteristic wall
And so began the inevitable fall

He had the world at his feet
And a bottle in his hand
The ground was pulled away
Where once he did proudly stand
The fall it came hard
Until finally he did land
It was ugly, and certainly not grand

Now he faces life
Full of bitter regret
Wasted opportunities
That he'd prefer to forget
Past glories now long gone
A grim future to be met
As a broken man who's caused nothing but upset