! Only Whispers Poem by Bob Blackwell

What good has the world done today,
what deeds that make it now a better place?
Very little do I feel?
George on savior’s path to save the world.
Guatanamo voices never heard, so stay!
People trying to make a life, are not allowed to be.
My land, your land, whose land?
Should be our land, your land, for all to share.
Seldom words describe a fair division
of the wares from land on earth.
My God, your God,
live this way, live that way,
not here, not there.
Never our God,
love God,
live here with us.

Together we should strive to have a better life,
for all men,
all creatures great and small.
Please see the beauty,
not the stain upon the land.

Why must we rush about to make a buck,
to drill for oil and gas and such?
Go underground to hunt for gold.
Greed for oil makes big mistake,
its mine not yours to use for fuel!
Remarks so cruel, so wrong,
so tricky this georgey of the mind.

Why can’t we just sit down
and wait to see the beauty of it all.
To sit by sea, watch waves, wash sand upon the shore,
pebbles damp that glint and shine, so quiet in the sand.
No! Underneath is where we want to go,
to dark places, that have no beauty,
no sun for us to see.
No sense, just blackness,
and maybe just a glint of gold.
Sad, it is this mind of ours that tells us not to share.
Wicked too this mind that cannot see, a hungry child,
that cannot help, a troubled land.

We are so small upon the earth,
yet feel we own it all, for us.
Treasury this world of ours of plants and trees,
flowers that bloom, fruit that feeds
and grass so green,
insects small we cannot see,
mountains high and seas so blue.
Who knows,
who does know what this is all about,
Why think to sort it out?

Nature comes naturally,
caring for itself in turn.
Seasons come seasons go,
weather changes all the time.
Hot, then cold, next rain, then drought,
now storm, and then a hurricane.
Everything brown and falls to ground.
Spring returns and paints it green.
So light the green that slowly darkens.
So beautiful to watch things grow.

Whispers come hardly heard,
they follow on with words of love of
peace on Earth.

Who am I to see their worth,
who am I to care for now?

‘Who am I to sit and stare,
at all that’s here and all that’s there?
No they say it must not be,
to stop to stare,
to wonder on, at everything that lives and grows.
To bomb, to kill, to maim, to break,
to smash, it down to dust and bits.
Then with profit seen, build up again,
with what is, so-called democracy!
So let the war begin.’

From afar missiles fired,
high above bombs are dropped,
missiles fall,
and bombs explode.
Down below,
boom boom,
smoke, dust, lights go out,
buildings gone,
streets on fire,
we cannot see,
panic now,
rush here, rush there.
Help must come!
Noise is deafening,
buildings falling,
women screaming,
bombs exploding.
Hundreds dead.
People wounded,
bodies flung, far and wide.
Streets are blocked,
rubble here, rubble everywhere.
People dying, many crying,
and lots of bodies to repair.
Hospitals hit, no medicine, no bandage,
and no support.
All the time the bombs are falling.
What’s the reason for all this?
Victory won!
But how many people have been killed because of this?
Never mind we’ll repair; we’ll make new,
big profits to be found!
What happens now?

Whispers come hardly heard,
they follow on with words of love of
peace on earth.

Who am I to see their worth,
who am I to care for now.

So strap bomb on,
walk slowly to your fate;
a crowded room,
people smile, talk enjoyed,
and children play,
no danger here, no hurt just fun.
Weapon carried, hidden, is not seen,
press it now,
all must die and so must I.
Suicide, fantasize, realise.
Not a pretty sight,
no me, no fun, no smile, no talk, no play, not free,
now recognize,
no reason to be done.
Too late!
No love or peace is found.

Whispers come hardly heard,
they follow on with words of love of
peace on earth.

Who am I to see their worth,
who am I to care for now.

Another time in other places,
on an aeroplane that flies a bomb,
a man looks down upon a town,
a city looking pretty.
Children playing in the street,
sound of laughter, music booms,
sweets are eaten for a treat,
people rushing here and there,
and no trouble in the air.
Bombs are ready for ejection,
mission coming to completion.
Safe up here in the sky,
no danger comes to spoil my try.
Bomb load gone,
hurries down, no stopping,
gravity helps it to the ground.

Bombs explode with fire and noise
and things that hurt fly all around.
Children screaming,
people bleeding,
some are running,
women crying,
many praying,
hundreds dying,
thousands dead!
Music stopped,
laughter gone,
buildings down,
panic reigns,
death has come to town,
city now not sitting pretty!
High above the ground,
man sees how brave he is,
but does not fear the chaos on the ground.
Mission finished;
one day, his God willing,
he will fly home to just another town.
No love, no hate, this soldier in the sky,
he just followed orders to eliminate.

So I think; why does this go on and on?
In this diverse and magic world,
we love to see the contrasts of,
seas, mountains, deserts, fields, and plains.
They transform
and change with the seasons,
as they come and go.
From pole to pole and east to west
the changes that illuminate and feed.
Seeds become trees, so big and tall,
their wood burnt, keeps us warm.
Blossoms change to fruit that feeds.
Grasses green, turn golden brown,
seeds then ground to make our bread.

Of this I’m sure, there must become,
another scene,
a picture or a vision to motivate,
a sense of love,
not hurt,
between the peoples of this earth.
A philosophy that says,
we love our contrasts,
shades, beliefs,
and different colours.
We tolerate and share;
not separate,
to discriminate
against our fellow man.
Then this world becomes our world
for us all to love,
and share.

Whispers came were loudly heard,
of words of love,
of peace,
to all on earth,
only now we see
the beauty of our land.
All free now,
just one God,
you and me,
him and her,
them and us,
all people of this world.

Now I see their worth,
For now I surely care.