Tuesday, November 6, 2018

Savagely Sad/imaginary gardens witth real toads

Savagely Sad

Savagely sad, you say
But what about the people
Who live in war zones
Who try to escape

Who walk for thousands of miles
Without shoes
Barefoot across hot pavement
Across stickers

With blisters
A trail of tears
Each day they carried their dead
The people who gathered to see

Cried all the way
Bring the teapot to the table
Two tea cups
Sit with me for a while

We will talk of cabbages and kings
Of shoes and sailing ships
We will count the missing
Count the empty chairs

We will remember 
When life was full
When we were needed
When we lost our keys

Late for school
Everything hard edge
A man is expected to live 76.4 years
Individual expectation unknown

November 2, 2018

Note:  In a response to a poem, Brendan said, "savagely sad."  And I thought, what a wonderful title, here is my poem.


brudberg said...

Sad always comes with perspectives... and maybe we are savages in thinking our sadness is deep enough.

Brendan MacOdrum said...

Touche, friend ... How does the joke go, major illness is what happens to me, minor illness what you suffer ... We are quite free to indulge our personal despair and at the expense of those suffering magnitudes more (I think of all the living species now silently dying off forever). The poet, who is supposed to have empathy for the world if they intend to sing it, absolutely must be able to feel as widely as s/he can. Fortunately we have each other to help carry the task ... It is indeed costly to sing eloquently of my little fears and despair while keeping walls high against the wailing of the world! Thanks again for putting my words "savagely sad" on the proper scales ..

annell4 said...

Thank you for your comment Brendan, I hope you agree the words you gave me were brilliant!

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