Born into an age long flown into winds
of which no rerurn will ever revive -
glory
Europe moves slowly into new shoes
painfully slides pinched feet, winces -
sighs
preparing to meet untrained role-size
as a museum: welcoming tourists, wearing -
smiles.
Grudgingly awakes, stretches, yawns, opens closed
shutters, long drawn curtains, hiding whisp'ring
mutters
Guarding jealously privacy, prides, wary of
clicking cameras, snipers, foreign rivals -
providers
of her survival: she no longer has choice,
as she watches... amazed; dazed, as she
fumbles.
As she clings to adored customs, sees all
is installed under proud noses - money -
moguls,
hungering after her shores, hungry seekers -
searching other outlets - spreading out -
riches
pamphlets, treading on cent'ries buil to secure,
what she most prizes, of skies azure -
liberty.
Freedom of speech, fraternity, democracy:
sounds moan moodily, in maturity -
'Hands that rock cradles, rule worlds' - America's
Walt Whitman voicing wise words: visionary -
Springing free-verse into being!
Panmelys 2015
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A most enjoyable read. Loved the use of metaphor and the way the poem flowed Great pom BB
Thank you Paul for yr comment and liking my poem. Panmelys