All that’s left are the remains of war: overturned tanks; crumbled bricks of a building, among which lies, like a fallen crow, the blackened wing of a fighter jet - and yet survivors smile at children playing in a pile of dust and rubble.
Kim M. Russell, 14th November 2022
Image found on Freepik
It’s Monday and over at the dVerse Poets Pub we are winging it with De who is hosting the Quadrille, when we write poems of just 44 words that include one word provided by the host. Today, as De says, the wing’s the thing.
She says we could write about a hospital wing, or a pilot getting their wings. We should poem on a wing and a prayer, go political if we dare. Our poems are waiting in the wings!