Valerie Yules Letters

October 24, 2011

Peace poems

Filed under: Political reforms — Tags: , , , — valerieyulesletters @ 5:03 am

peace poems 1948 – 2011

 for whom the bells ring 

It would ring the bells of heaven

that have not rung for years

If nations lost their powers

and people came to theirs

And everyone together

Rose up with fearful prayers

for wild and blinkered war-men

and maddened Bulls and Bears

and wretched bogey newsmen

and the mad, marching hares.

 

written on a journey in Britain

 

After a meeting describing the bunkers for important people built in the Grampians, Scotland  – but none for the rest of the people.

Batten down this earth and its trees

before the hurricane

Cover the farms and the forests,

net over the streams,

Butterflies and insects,

shield – how? from this flame.

But none of these

is in a bunkering scheme.

 

Bury the books deep,

make cellars for your heritage.

Is there a deepfreeze

you can bank grandchildren in?

 

Dustcovers for democracy –

a military entourage

will come to take the scenery,

when the war begins.

 

(And must all countries bear that wrath?

And must this landscape die?

What flesh can barricade their path,

What blood unspilled can cry?)

 

Beyond the screens of lies and smoke I see

One Fate still spins a spider thread –

that it need not be.

 

 

facing the mirror

 

Humankind that cannot bear

very much reality

is unaware of our duality

with enemies we share

the evil that we see

only in the foe we know

the mirror to our greed

the glass to our fear, the seeds that we sow.

We cannot see it near and close

but over there, we know.

And name the evil  in our foe.

 

Beyond Tigers

Napalm, napalm burning bright

In the forests of the night

How can mortal hand or eye

Dare frame this fearful way to die?

 

What the factory, what the frame,

In what enterprise thy name?

What the profits that were sought,

Named in the company’s report?

 

What workman dare to take his part

To pour that poison in your heart?

By whom the formula complete?

Whose the carrier, whose the fleet?

 

On what distant mouths or eyes

Burns this outrage from the skies?

Whose the hands that dare desire

To touch that key and drop that fire?

 

Stars throw down their lightning spears

to quench those deserts with new tears.

Now does He smile when this He sees,

That what He made,

should now make these?

 

The Vietnam War

(Tune” All that I’ve got is a troubled mind’)

Dress me in khaki

wave from the shore

I’m leaving you fellows

I’m sent to the war.

 

Don’t promise me glory

That meaning’s unsure

It’s kept for the dead when

They’re sent to the war.

 

Don’t promise me freedom

There’s none any more.

It’s not for a fellow

That’s sent to the war.

 

Don’t promise me love

It’s not worth a straw

There’s none of it lasts when

We’re sent to the war.

 

Don’t promise me Country,

Peace, Justice or Law,

You’ve sent them upriver

And me to the war.

 

Just bundle all up

that you’ve valued before,

It won’t need a label

Just send to the war.

 

Tomorrow it’s your turn

You’ll cry and implore,

Then remember all us folk

You sent to the war.

 

Devil and Us

 

Devil and us is having a fight –

Glory hallelujah!

Devil is wrong and we are right-

Glory hallelujah!

Right don’t know which way to turn-

Glory hallelujah!

Got to fight on the Devil’s term-

Glory hallelujah

!If the right should want to win-

Glory hallelujah!

Got to fight gainst sin with sin-

Glory hallelujah!

Fighting the devil you can’t stay true- Glory hallelujah!

Got to get your own hands dirty too- Glory hallelujah!

Devil’s feeling mighty gay-

Glory hallelujah!

Devil’s winning either way-

to hell with hallelujah!

 

countdown

(following a UK news-item about reduced budgets for missiles)

 

Five little Tridents for a nuclear war.

One dropped from the estimates

and then there were four.

 

Four little Tridents launched into the sea

One wasn’t fail-safe,

and then there were three.

 

Three little Tridents sailing in the blue,

One had an accident,

and then there were two.

 

Two little Tridents hiding from the sun,

One failed its logistics,

and then there was one.

 

One little Trident sitting like a bunny

A satellite had know-how, and

Pop goes all our money.

 

Moral:

If you put £7.5 billion into four baskets,

don’t expect chickens.

 

Playworld

 

Children play and shout

“Bang Bang you’re dead!”

Behind the fence

“O God,” his mother said.

 

Adults play and shout

Their TV blood is red

Its drama news tonight,

“O God” a mother said.

 

Generals play and shout.

Move missiles up ahead.

Bomb what? Those towns below.

“O God,” five million said.

 

Devils play and shout

Their dice has rolled ahead

and blows apart.

“O world,” God said.

 

Star Wars Star Peace

 

At the last moment the missiles

Saw the trees in the field

And the wild things that run

In the woods and the streams,

From the ricks and the barns,

The town roofs and the weather vanes,

Faces on people in the streets,

And history that had lain

Six thousand years.

 

They were poised, hung above this

It was a theatre, a war theatre.

The scenario of the sky

was black around it.

Within the sky shone, white,

Those stars already dead.

 

Hobbes Leviathan

 

See the dragon clanking towards the abyss.

The children cheer,

For their nursery stories

Are full of dragons.

Its scales are of gold, of bronze,

And of plutonium.

Its eyes are blind. It has breath that kills.

Each joint is articulated to move with

And to move its whole social carcase.

It has a belly like a sex-shop,

It has a voice like a howling mob.

In its stomach

Are three million undigested unemployed.

Scattered behind like memorials

Lie its stone eggs.

Britannia holds her Trident and laughs.

A horrified voice calls,

“St. George of Merrie England!”

 

For a dead demonstrator – Nance Walsh SOS

protest marcher in  the Vietnam war

She walked among the good and bad

in tidy coat and shoes

a placard in her tired hand

which never made the news.

She asked the cause and not the use

to join the patient queues.

 

There was not any scarlet splash

although heart’s blood is red,

No barricades, no headline clash,

No body-count of dead,

No photos framed, life-stories sold,

No panegyric said.

 

When liberty still has a price

to all this may be said,

some pay it with a traitor’s flags,

some with their blood’s red.

A housewife paid a quiet way;

She walked, and is dead.

Envoi

Friends, you will break your hearts to build.

Its easier to smash,

to kill the evil with the good,

bring all down in the crash.

 

Sodom you may condemn,

without its ten just men.

This land, with its good and bad,  made Nan.

 

 

Peace Will

 

The bird is in the egg,

while the bomb is in the shell,

the child is in the womb,

the souls are in hell.

Fresh blows the breeze over  new ruins.

Flowers with the weeds

are in the seeds in the cracks

that brought down these empires.

 

Take away the syringe from the brain,

gun from the head,

horror from the eye of the children,

soot without the fire,

pitch without the road,

offer no god’s flesh

when the communion is dead.

 

Tell the young children

the bomb is in the egg,

the bird is explosive,

that the infant is monstrous,

the man born raging.

that cities lie vacant,

winds carry the plague.

In the cracks waits a hope,

waiting for a movement of will.

 

Turning from that screen,

from the images, from the wall,

let your small hands, as the tendrils,

reach for the sun.

Listen within you,

there’s silence, there’s music,

Look now.    Life’s done.  and again begun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

matriotism – love of all my countries

 

This is the land I was born in, grey-leafed and grand,

These are my sunny skies over the red sand,

and the canyons dropping down from the strewn plain.

I love this land where the dust swirls in the rain.

 

This is the land that I lived in, hills with green leas,

among islands interlaced with the deep seas,

I would live and die for my country of summer trees.

 

This is the land I have come from, with spice in the street,

and singing with drums where the rivers meet,

my pulse beats with them, and the rhythms sway

to a northern marsh where only the reed pipes play.

 

These are the great cities that gave the earth light,

These are the lands that are my birth-right,

This is my earth, and yours, it is rich it is dear.

 

What bomb may yet fall on you, what spreading death I fear.

 

jerusalem australia

 

And shall those feet in future time

Walk on our crowded city street,

And shall the holy lamb of God

Stand where our intersections meet?

And can the countenance divine

Shine forth upon our private hells?

And can Jerusalem be built

Among these bright atomic shells?

 

Bring me my jets of burning gold,

Bring me the lasers of desire,

Bring swords of words, and dreams, unfold!

Bring me the rocketry of fire.

I will not cease the constant fight,

Nor shall my sword sleep in my  hand,

Till children see Jerusalem

Still building in this Promised Land

 

 

Postcessional

 

God of our fathers in the past

Lord of their far-flung battle-line

Beneath whose awful hand we lost

Dominion over palm and pine –

Those warnings that we heeded not,

Have we forgot, have we forgot?

 

Far-called our bombers melt away,

On towns and jungles falls the fire,

Lo, all our wealth of yesterday

Is burnt with Troy and sunk at Tyre.

Lord God of ghosts that squander yet,

God of the lost, lest we forget.

 

For heathen heart that puts her trust

In missile tube and atom shard,

All craven dust that poisons dust

And guarding ruins what they guard,

For murdering boast and deadly word,

Not mercy as we give mercy, Lord.

 

Earth cannot pay our awful price,

Captains and commissars depart,

Alone a long-past sacrifice

calls still for our contrite heart.

Lord God of hosts, remind us yet,

God of the lost, lest we forget.

Valerie Yule, 1948 onward

hichcliffe 7 VY Blog

peace poems

 

 

for whom the bells ring

 

            It would ring the bells of heaven

that have not rung for years

If nations lost their powers

and people came to theirs

And everyone together

Rose up with fearful prayers

for wild and blinkered war-men

and maddened Bulls and Bears

and wretched bogey newsmen

and the mad, marching hares.

 

written on a journey in Britain

 

After a meeting describing the bunkers for important people built in the Grampians, Scotland  – but none for the rest of the people.

Batten down this earth and its trees

before the hurricane

Cover the farms and the forests,

net over the streams,

Butterflies and insects,

shield – how? from this flame.

But none of these

is in a bunkering scheme.

 

Bury the books deep,

make cellars for your heritage.

Is there a deepfreeze

you can bank grandchildren in?

 

Dustcovers for democracy –

a military entourage

will come to take the scenery,

when the war begins.

 

(And must all countries bear that wrath?

And must this landscape die?

What flesh can barricade their path,

What blood unspilled can cry?)

 

Beyond the screens of lies and smoke I see

One Fate still spins a spider thread –

that it need not be.

 

 

facing the mirror

 

Humankind that cannot bear

very much reality

is unaware of our duality

with enemies we share

the evil that we see

only in the foe we know

the mirror to our greed

the glass to our fear, the seeds that we sow.

We cannot see it near and close

but over there, we know.

And name the evil  in our foe.

 

Beyond Tigers

Napalm, napalm burning bright

In the forests of the night

How can mortal hand or eye

Dare frame this fearful way to die?

 

What the factory, what the frame,

In what enterprise thy name?

What the profits that were sought,

Named in the company’s report?

 

What workman dare to take his part

To pour that poison in your heart?

By whom the formula complete?

Whose the carrier, whose the fleet?

 

On what distant mouths or eyes

Burns this outrage from the skies?

Whose the hands that dare desire

To touch that key and drop that fire?

 

Stars throw down their lightning spears

to quench those deserts with new tears.

Now does He smile when this He sees,

That what He made,

should now make these?

 

The Vietnam War

(Tune” All that I’ve got is a troubled mind’)

Dress me in khaki

wave from the shore

I’m leaving you fellows

I’m sent to the war.

 

Don’t promise me glory

That meaning’s unsure

It’s kept for the dead when

They’re sent to the war.

 

Don’t promise me freedom

There’s none any more.

It’s not for a fellow

That’s sent to the war.

 

Don’t promise me love

It’s not worth a straw

There’s none of it lasts when

We’re sent to the war.

 

Don’t promise me Country,

Peace, Justice or Law,

You’ve sent them upriver

And me to the war.

 

Just bundle all up

that you’ve valued before,

It won’t need a label

Just send to the war.

 

Tomorrow it’s your turn

You’ll cry and implore,

Then remember all us folk

You sent to the war.

 

Devil and Us

 

Devil and us is having a fight –

Glory hallelujah!

Devil is wrong and we are right-

Glory hallelujah!

Right don’t know which way to turn-

Glory hallelujah!

Got to fight on the Devil’s term-

Glory hallelujah

!If the right should want to win-

Glory hallelujah!

Got to fight gainst sin with sin-

Glory hallelujah!

Fighting the devil you can’t stay true- Glory hallelujah!

Got to get your own hands dirty too- Glory hallelujah!

Devil’s feeling mighty gay-

Glory hallelujah!

Devil’s winning either way-

to hell with hallelujah!

 

countdown

(following a UK news-item about reduced budgets for missiles)

 

Five little Tridents for a nuclear war.

One dropped from the estimates

and then there were four.

 

Four little Tridents launched into the sea

One wasn’t fail-safe,

and then there were three.

 

Three little Tridents sailing in the blue,

One had an accident,

and then there were two.

 

Two little Tridents hiding from the sun,

One failed its logistics,

and then there was one.

 

One little Trident sitting like a bunny

A satellite had know-how, and

Pop goes all our money.

 

Moral:

If you put £7.5 billion into four baskets,

don’t expect chickens.

 

Playworld

 

Children play and shout

“Bang Bang you’re dead!”

Behind the fence

“O God,” his mother said.

 

Adults play and shout

Their TV blood is red

Its drama news tonight,

“O God” a mother said.

 

Generals play and shout.

Move missiles up ahead.

Bomb what? Those towns below.

“O God,” five million said.

 

Devils play and shout

Their dice has rolled ahead

and blows apart.

“O world,” God said.

 

Star Wars Star Peace

 

At the last moment the missiles

Saw the trees in the field

And the wild things that run

In the woods and the streams,

From the ricks and the barns,

The town roofs and the weather vanes,

Faces on people in the streets,

And history that had lain

Six thousand years.

 

They were poised, hung above this

It was a theatre, a war theatre.

The scenario of the sky

was black around it.

Within the sky shone, white,

Those stars already dead.

 

Hobbes Leviathan

 

See the dragon clanking towards the abyss.

The children cheer,

For their nursery stories

Are full of dragons.

Its scales are of gold, of bronze,

And of plutonium.

Its eyes are blind. It has breath that kills.

Each joint is articulated to move with

And to move its whole social carcase.

It has a belly like a sex-shop,

It has a voice like a howling mob.

In its stomach

Are three million undigested unemployed.

Scattered behind like memorials

Lie its stone eggs.

Britannia holds her Trident and laughs.

A horrified voice calls,

“St. George of Merrie England!”

 

For a dead demonstrator – Nance Walsh SOS

protest marcher in  the Vietnam war

She walked among the good and bad

in tidy coat and shoes

a placard in her tired hand

which never made the news.

She asked the cause and not the use

to join the patient queues.

 

There was not any scarlet splash

although heart’s blood is red,

No barricades, no headline clash,

No body-count of dead,

No photos framed, life-stories sold,

No panegyric said.

 

When liberty still has a price

to all this may be said,

some pay it with a traitor’s flags,

some with their blood’s red.

A housewife paid a quiet way;

She walked, and is dead.

Envoi

Friends, you will break your hearts to build.

Its easier to smash,

to kill the evil with the good,

bring all down in the crash.

 

Sodom you may condemn,

without its ten just men.

This land, with its good and bad,  made Nan.

 

 

Peace Will

 

The bird is in the egg,

while the bomb is in the shell,

the child is in the womb,

the souls are in hell.

Fresh blows the breeze over  new ruins.

Flowers with the weeds

are in the seeds in the cracks

that brought down these empires.

 

Take away the syringe from the brain,

gun from the head,

horror from the eye of the children,

soot without the fire,

pitch without the road,

offer no god’s flesh

when the communion is dead.

 

Tell the young children

the bomb is in the egg,

the bird is explosive,

that the infant is monstrous,

the man born raging.

that cities lie vacant,

winds carry the plague.

In the cracks waits a hope,

waiting for a movement of will.

 

Turning from that screen,

from the images, from the wall,

let your small hands, as the tendrils,

reach for the sun.

Listen within you,

there’s silence, there’s music,

Look now.    Life’s done.  and again begun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

matriotism – love of all my countries

 

This is the land I was born in, grey-leafed and grand,

These are my sunny skies over the red sand,

and the canyons dropping down from the strewn plain.

I love this land where the dust swirls in the rain.

 

This is the land that I lived in, hills with green leas,

among islands interlaced with the deep seas,

I would live and die for my country of summer trees.

 

This is the land I have come from, with spice in the street,

and singing with drums where the rivers meet,

my pulse beats with them, and the rhythms sway

to a northern marsh where only the reed pipes play.

 

These are the great cities that gave the earth light,

These are the lands that are my birth-right,

This is my earth, and yours, it is rich it is dear.

 

What bomb may yet fall on you, what spreading death I fear.

 

jerusalem australia

 

And shall those feet in future time

Walk on our crowded city street,

And shall the holy lamb of God

Stand where our intersections meet?

And can the countenance divine

Shine forth upon our private hells?

And can Jerusalem be built

Among these bright atomic shells?

 

Bring me my jets of burning gold,

Bring me the lasers of desire,

Bring swords of words, and dreams, unfold!

Bring me the rocketry of fire.

I will not cease the constant fight,

Nor shall my sword sleep in my  hand,

Till children see Jerusalem

Still building in this Promised Land

 

 

Postcessional

 

God of our fathers in the past

Lord of their far-flung battle-line

Beneath whose awful hand we lost

Dominion over palm and pine –

Those warnings that we heeded not,

Have we forgot, have we forgot?

 

Far-called our bombers melt away,

On towns and jungles falls the fire,

Lo, all our wealth of yesterday

Is burnt with Troy and sunk at Tyre.

Lord God of ghosts that squander yet,

God of the lost, lest we forget.

 

For heathen heart that puts her trust

In missile tube and atom shard,

All craven dust that poisons dust

And guarding ruins what they guard,

For murdering boast and deadly word,

Not mercy as we give mercy, Lord.

 

Earth cannot pay our awful price,

Captains and commissars depart,

Alone a long-past sacrifice

calls still for our contrite heart.

Lord God of hosts, remind us yet,

God of the lost, lest we forget.


October 14, 2011

Ten political verses

Filed under: Political reforms, social problems, verse — Tags: , — valerieyulesletters @ 8:52 am

1. The self-awarded  emoluments of Directors

(with apologies to Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries)

“These in the day when heaven was falling
The hour when earth’s foundation fled,
Followed their mercenary calling,
Asked for more wages and are dead.
Their shoulders held the sky suspended;
They stood and earth’s foundations stay;
What God abandoned, these defended,
And what they wanted was more pay.

2 WHAT I SAID I DID NOT KNOW

(Niemoller in Germany wrote:

First they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew;

then they came for the communists and I did not speak out, because I was not a communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for me – and there was no one left to speak out for me.”)

——————————————————

They came for the local councils and I did not speak out,

because I did not know

They came for public lands and I did not speak out, because I did not know

They came for electricity, gas and fuel and water and I did not speak out, because I did not know

They came for public transport and I did not speak out, because I did not know

They came for schools as property and I did not speak out because I did not know

They came for the unions and I did not speak out because I did not know

They came for Crown Land that was pastoral leases and I did not speak out

because I did not know

They came for Australian industries and I did not speak out because I did not know

They came for the Carlton gardens and I did not speak out because I did not know

They came for the site of the museum that Labor had started building and I did not speak out because I did not know

They leased public beachfront for a private marina and I did not speak out

because I did not know

They cut the funding for the disabled, the mentally handicapped and the psychiatrically disturbed and I did not speak out because I did not know

They cut the funding for hospitals and community health and baby health and I did not speak out

because I did not know

They came to turn annual riverbank and coastal leases into 99-year leases and I did not speak out because I did not know

They came to allow anything to be developed for private profit regardless of public and long-term harm and I did not speak out because I did not know

They came for prime sites on St Kilda Road to build private towers and I did not speak out

because I did not know

They came for what they wanted in the City to build private developments and I did not speak out because I did not know

They came to clearfell in State forests for private profit and I did not speak out

because I did not know

They came to impose problematic brothels and gambling in areas where people did not want them and still I did not speak out

because I did not know

They came to ruin natural beauties on Crown land by private developments for private profit and I did not speak out because I did not know.

They came for the hospitals and prisons that were on desirable land for developers and I did not speak out

because I did not know

They came for the prisoners and the sick because they were profitable for private businesses and I did not speak out

because I did to know

They came to spend millions on glitz and entertainment at the cost of the people’s needs, and I did not speak out

because I did not know

They came for the banks and for telecommunications and I did not speak out

because I did not know

They came for the workers to put their hard-won conditions at risk and I did not speak out

because I did not know

They came to put profit for shareholders above the Common Wealth and I did not speak out

because I did not know

They came to change the Constitution dozens of times to curtail rights and liberties but I did not speak out because I did not know

They came for people who did speak out from their official knowledge and did not speak out because I did not know

They came to allow anything to be developed for private profit regardless of public and long-term harm and I did not speak out because I did not know

because I did not know

They came to ruin natural beauties on Crown land by private developments for private profit and I did not speak out

because I did not know.

They came to silence by  threatening  and law suits and I did not speak out

because I did not know

They came to give the rich a better deal than the poor and I did not speak out

because I did not know

They came for the banks and for telecommunications and I did not speak out

because I did not know

They came for the workers to put their hard-won conditions at risk and I did not speak out

because I did not knows that were to let them be sold out

They came to put profit for shareholders above the Common Wealth and I did not speak out

because I did not know

They came  dozens of times to curtail rights and liberties but I did not speak out because I did not know

They came for people who did speak out from their official knowledge and did not speak out because I did not know

They came for the independent broadcaster and I did not speak out

because I did not know

 They came to silence by  threatening  and law suits and I did not speak out
because I did not know
They came to give the rich a better deal than the poor and I did not speak out
because I did not know
They came to turn the universities into profits and administration, not learning and I did not speak out because I did not know
They came to operate in silence so that I could not speak out
because I did not know
They came to sell Australia to foreign interests and I did not speak out
because I did not know
They came to sell the people and I did not speak out
because I was dumb and I had been sold.
The Scots say that when many folk arrive at the Judgement, they will plead, “Lord, Lord, we dinna ken!”  and the Lord will say,
“Well, ye ken the noo.”

3. A highly colored boy

I pass among a hostile crowd
I live their public shame
For all that should not be allowed
Or needs a dirty name.
I stand outside the house afraid
And pick my foreign skin
For every more familiar shade
Combines lest I get in.
I am the far researcher’s joy,
The local folk’s chagrin;
I’m just a really colored boy,
My colour is bright green.

 

4.Star Wars Star Peace  –

post World War II

 

At the last moment the missiles

Saw the trees in the field

And the wild things that run

In the woods and the streams,

From the ricks and the barns,

The town roofs and the weather vanes,

Faces on people in the streets,

And history that had lain

Six thousand years.

 

They were poised, hung above this

It was a theatre, a war theatre.

The scenario of the sky

was black around it.

Within the sky shone, white,

Those stars already dead.

5.   Matriotism – the countries  I love

 

This is my country I come from – rolling hills and green leas,

My country, interlaced with the deep seas.

I would live and die for my land of the tall trees,

And this land that I love, that spreads white and far.

Oh earth, the lands that I love, how beautiful you are.

 

This is my country I come from, barren and grand,

Here are my red skies over the redder sand,

And the canyons drop away from the great plain,

Where the land I love lies deep in the yellow grain.

 

This is my country with the music of the gamelan,

The rain forest and the island reef where the singing began.

Drums repeat my steppes far away

And by a northern marsh the echo, and the reed pipes play.

 

For these great cities I would fight,

For these lands that are my own birth-right,

For these peoples, this earth, this world, irreplaceable and dear –
What bombs may yet fall on you, what spreading death I fear.

 6. After a meeting in Aberdeen, Scotland,  about nuclear bunkers for the ‘essential people’

 

Batten down this earth and its trees

before the hurricane

Cover the farms and the forests,

net over the streams,

Butterflies and insects,

shield – how? from this flame.

But none of these

is in a bunkering scheme.

 

Bury the books deep,

make cellars for your heritage.

Is there a deepfreeze

you can bank grandchildren in?

 

Dustcovers for democracy –

a military entourage

will come to take the scenery,

when the war begins.

 

(And must all countries bear that wrath?

And must this landscape die?

What flesh can barricade their path,

What blood unspilled can cry?)

 

Beyond the screens of lies and smoke I see

One Fate still spins a spider thread –

that it need not be.

 

7.  Star Wars Star Peace  –

post World War II

 

At the last moment the missiles

Saw the trees in the field

And the wild things that run

In the woods and the streams,

From the ricks and the barns,

The town roofs and the weather vanes,

Faces on people in the streets,

And history that had lain

Six thousand years.

 

They were poised, hung above this

It was a theatre, a war theatre.

The scenario of the sky

was black around it.

Within the sky shone, white,

Those stars already dead.

8. The bird in the egg

The bird is in the egg,

while the bomb is in the shell,

the child is in the womb,

the souls are in hell.

Fresh blows the breeze over  new ruins.

Flowers with the weeds

are in the seeds in the cracks

that brought down these empires.

 

Take away the syringe from the brain,

gun from the head,

horror from the eye of the children,

soot without the fire,

pitch without the road,

offer no God’s flesh

when the communion is dead.

 

Tell the young children

the bomb is in the egg,

the bird is explosive,

that the infant is monstrous,

the man born raging.

that cities lie vacant,

winds carry the plague.

And that in the cracks waits a hope,

waiting for a movement of will.

 

Turning from that screen,

from the images, from the wall,

let your small hands, as the tendrils,

reach for the sun.

Listen within you,

there’s silence, there’s music,

                     Look now.    Life’s done.   and again begun.

9. The Crocodile in the Mangroves

 

Unravelled, stripped, an onion in the dark,

Food of the ancient crocodile, in the dark,

A capitalist conspiracy, the spark

Of futures trading in the murky mangroves.

 

The reeking onion splits its coat of brown,

Sprayed scents of evil from its surface brown,

Not the killing cruelty

But greed more than the fear coming down

Grasping at power, at everything, in the dirty estuaries.

 

Peel an onion whichway, it has no core,

Unless the rising shoot can spike its  flesh,

Shiny brown surface, covering, dark as it is,

Is not more evil than a rotten law,

The tears from food, tears like the crocodile,

Oppression of the crate-dwellers, or operatives in a steamy factory.

 

Murky mangroves, tears from food, dirty estuaries, steaming factories,

Three of these come from the mind of man.

10.  The fiery moon

 

Evening-

A fiery moon surprises

Her face is rent with tears

The opposite horizon

Is spread with scarlet spears.

 

The sun will plummet downwards

But fire still stokes the sky

To celebrate destruction

White rockets wheel and die.

 

So far, her lonely spinning,

So near, her piteous freeze,

Earth’s former chunk of ruin,

Flung from her deepest seas.

 

I flew my kite, part hoping

To pull her off her shelf,

She floated to the ocean

Like a mirror of herself.

 

Her image still sails skyward

Tied, as the tides pull free,

It would leave us unattended,

But the moon now lives with me.

 

____________

Dawn –

 

Anger rips the world,

The old Promethean fire

Is sunken as earth’s secrets

Make other smoke rise higher.

 

Before a lunar landscape

That lunatics will make

That fiery moon is cold now

Her very rocks will break.

 

October 7, 2011

Article in English Today on Spelling

Filed under: Uncategorized — valerieyulesletters @ 8:27 am
<div style="background: #FFFFFF; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; padding: 0 10px 0 0; text-align: left; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1em;"><div style="font-size: 11px; padding: 0px 0px 10px 0px; font-weight:bold; color: #045989;">Recent developments which affect spelling</div><div style="font-size: 11px;"><b>Valerie Yule (2011).</b><br /> <a href="http://journals.cambridge.org/action/displayJournal?jid=ENG">English Today</a>, <a href="http://journals.cambridge.org/action/displayJournal?jid=ENG&volumeId=27&bVolume=y#loc27>   ">Volume 27</a>,  <a href="http://journals.cambridge.org/action/displayIssue?jid=ENG&volumeId=27&issueId=03&seriesId=0"> Issue 03</a>, September 2011 pp 62-67 <br/> <a href="http://journals.cambridge.org/action/displayAbstract?aid=8356406">http://journals.cambridge.org/action/displayAbstract?aid=8356406</a></div></div>

 ">Volume 27</a>, 
<a href="http://journals.cambridge.org/action/displayIssue?jid=ENG&volumeId=27&issueId=03&seriesId=0"> Issue 03</a>, September 2011 pp 62-67 <br/>
<a href="http://journals.cambridge.org/action/displayAbstract?aid=8356406">http://journals.cambridge.org/action/displayAbstract?aid=8356406</a></div></div>

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