The chubby cheeked child pressed his teary face against the cold metal box, then deeply burrowed to find the breast, that nurtured him, empty as his mother’s body struggled with starvation instead of promised salvation. ————– The pieces of silver exchanged brought her hope of a golden place; where work was to be in plenty,… Continue reading Demons of Trafficking and Immigration.
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Boats at anchor
A few boats, seaworthy, fish empty, rock at their anchors, harbour hungry for the churning waters and open sea, feeling the scaly bodies squirming on the deck gasping for dying breaths. ——– The tide raises eager expectations and politely, bobbing slowly pulling at the bondage, she lifts her prow to proudly show she is prettily… Continue reading Boats at anchor
Cold Hearts
They know it is wrong, the science is clear, but prefer high profile jobs to turning the tide? They hang on their hearts, the voices of children, but hungry oil and coal eats its way into their homes, hopes, failed harvests and he denies with sown seeds of power. So, head’s together they ignore truth… Continue reading Cold Hearts
Christmas Threatened- Bah Humbug ?
She reached for the plain bread to lay it out. One slice each with beans off a far Foodbank. The disappointed children eat without pleasure, and look with eyes that show meagre years of Tory rule. ==== The face of plenty stares at them from the news- paper stand – jolly eyes like Santa with… Continue reading Christmas Threatened- Bah Humbug ?
Street Children
Shivering they silently stood outside, ever and always outside of all that is. They waited until a voice kindled the terror they remembered, and fowl money passed hands dirtying the innocence of a four year old child. ——— The others encouraged them to go in and accept that to survive is to strive and… Continue reading Street Children
House Martins in the Heights.
Swerving, circling, swiftly passing, peeling off, synchronised flying; feeling their freedom, it so thrills my soul, sharply they turn and soar to great heights, where spaces are clear, free and kind. —— Swooping, skating over the grasses gracing the top of Graig Fan Las and Bwlch Y Ddwyallt. Rising to the giddying heights of Cribyn… Continue reading House Martins in the Heights.
Afghanistan’s Wreath
Pontificating blaggards, blanketing women and blocking their tear filled pleas, and bludgeoning plunging humble hopes. — Praising their own bravery building a uniformity so bleakly fragile lives under policing of sexuality, face punishment lash and death. —— Politicising injustice runs through the land, Like the curling freezing fog of late Autumn, Killing the chilling life… Continue reading Afghanistan’s Wreath
Love
Those eyes, I look and see myself as he does, He stares back with leisurely love, It never wavers, Each tiny cell speaking peace, Each lash and brow saying, “Hush.” Challenged I watch those eyes that watched the children play, and Blessed them, turned to the blind and dumb, and healed them, looked into the… Continue reading Love
It started so well.
Alone, silently, a cell splits on a planet, cold and bleak, traces of life beginning fragile, hopeful and a stirring of a sigh. —- Then others mutate and movements starts as the urge to live, to create and to be but changes the barren land and sea and sky. — Slowly, creeping, altering organisms are… Continue reading It started so well.