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"Rumblings"
by Max PhineasI see children trying to grow
Nightmares of things we wouldnt dream of
How do they learn,
while they read in the dark?
Hideouts.
Pleas and sobs and unanswered prayers
What choice is there but to run from home?
And then you dont know how to live outside it.
How do you adjust to peace when all you know is war?
When all peace is
is just distance from the mortar. 08/11/2008 Posted on 08/11/2008
Copyright © 2025 Max Phineas
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by A. Paige White on 08/11/08 at 04:19 PM ' "Good poetry is like chocolate or something." -Becky', from your front page lends itself to this piece of semi-sweet dark chocolate.
"distance from the mortar" = peace, is an astute observation. |
| Posted by Heide McAlister-Bates on 08/13/08 at 08:23 PM What an insightful work - you capture the uncertainty that the children of whom you write must feel - all day, every day - perfectly. |
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