by Maureen Glaude
Servants of the
ritual of quotidien
having showered, shaved
spruced and made themselves up,
a cup of tea or coffee, then
kissed children and spouses cheerio
to follow their usual route
to their metropolitan duties
again, scores of citizens about to become
bloody statistics in a power struggle
not of their design
and too soon, symbols of
manÂ’s inhumanity to man.
The rest left to carry on, carry on
after the horrors.
Grief marches on
in the survivors
and yes there'll always be an England
because she refuses
to ever let terrorism
Posted on 07/09/2005
Copyright © 2021 Maureen Glaude
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 07/12/05 at 12:06 PM|
Although to me, that last line sounds a bit clichéd, corny (was it really foggy?), perhaps instead, just another day for Londoners, bringing in the factor that they're used to bombings from WWII and the IRA, the rest aptly captures the irony of going off to work, school, etc. and taking for granted they'd return home safely. Thanks for writing this for all of us.
|Posted by Paganini Jones on 07/12/05 at 07:19 PM|
I did not see the previous version. For me the second stanza is the best - most powerful - though I would want to get rid of the cliche of pierced breasts - maybe something like "grief marches on, carries on" to echo the beginning... And I'd get rid of the tentative note of the word 'perhaps'. But despite my desire to edit the poem to bits, I really do like the last 3 lines and the rest has real promise of something really, really GOOD.
|Posted by Paganini Jones on 07/13/05 at 06:40 AM|
Mmm. This is much better - I like how you took made my suggestions and made them your own :)