Red geraniums rust in September rain
and sparrows splash in puddles again.
In summer’s hinterland, something is stirring
leaves already yellow, their weariness showing,
tattered and brittle, counting years with their falling.
But still trees find safety in numbers, flourishing
in ancient copses, forests and woods,
growing together for the common good
while men train weapons again at far-off places,
disregarding the anguish of unknown faces,
reawakening fears of a reheated Cold War,
reigniting childhood memories, deep scars
inflicted by the grey words that dripped
from serious monochrome television lips.
Kim M. Russell, 2nd February 2021
My response to dVerse Poets Pub Tuesday Poetics: War Poetry
Björn is our host for Poetics this Tuesday, which is all about war poetry.
Like Björn, I have no experience of war myself, and I want nothing to do with it. But I do appreciate poetry about war, especially by those who have direct experience of it and who do not glorify it or write in jingoistic terms.
He has shared poems by Brian Turner, Tennyson, John McCrae, Paul Celan and Carilda Olivar Labra. Turner and Celan were new to me, however I am well-versed in war poetry, having taught it at high school.
I have reworked a poem from 2017, written in response to the words of Carilda Olivar Labra.
Stock image found on Pixabay.