Thousands march
in our major cities.
(I too, if younger, fitter.)
No mere rumpus,
although impassioned.
Determination!
One placard arrests me:
WAR CRIMES ARE NOT
SELF-DEFENCE.
Next, an overseas bulletin.
I recoil, shriek,
cover my eyes.
Children’s bones
poke like sticks
through empty skin.
Written for dVerse, for Quadrille #230: Let's kick up a rumpus! (44 words excluding title, which must include the word 'rumpus'.)
Comments are disabled for this post. (I appreciate that the topic is very hard for any of us to engage with, and I don't wish to start a quarrel here – but sometimes a poet must speak up, as a matter of honour. You are of course free to use your own poems, on your own blogs, to express yourself on this subject if you feel an urgency to address it.)