A F R I C A
The hustling and the bustling,
The people in the street.
The arguing, the shouting,
The angry, trampling feet.
The rugged slope of mountains,
The sunrise through the trees.
The snow-white coloured sandshore,
The sweet and spicy breeze.
The fighting and the crying,
The hatred and the fear.
The neverending hour of
The everlasting year.
The rocky shades of limestone,
The tiny, trickling streams.
The Heaven-scented landscape,
The pillars of my dreams.
The guns, the knives, the bullets,
The orders, the demands.
The imprisonment of freedom,
The weakest man commands.
The lion and the antelope,
The grazing of the grass.
The wonder that is Wonderland,
The fragile looking-glass.
The judging and the blaming,
The bloodshed of a war.
The premeditated killing,
The outraged cries for more.
The sand-slopes of Sahara,
The dry and arid plains.
The hidden signs of life beneath
The desert when it rains.
The dying and the dying,
The prejudiced police.
The military jury make
The promise of a peace.
The semen of Gethsemane,
The Eden of my soul.
The apple of my wicked eye,
The innocence we stole.
(1997)
...of War
The Miming Game
Metal heavy in my hand,
Bullets pounding in my ears.
People trying to win command,
Ignoring their own tears.
A battlefield of bloody red,
The earth is wounded by our strife,
It's just a place to rest the dead.
This is real; is this life?
As I trudge on, unwilling,
Toward the mass confusion,
I wonder why we're killing,
Believing an illusion.
We're following a nightmare,
Disappearing within time,
But still we're unaware
Of the ongoing mime.
(1994)
One By One
The sands of time are falling,
One by one,
As we make battle
Under the sun.
We keep on fighting,
But no one has won
And the people keep on falling,
One by one.
(1994)
All writings on Poetic Dreams (www.poeticdreams.webeden.co.uk) are copyright to Dianna Hardy, all rights reserved.
www.poeticdreams.webeden.co.uk (c) Dianna Hardy, 2006
