A musician
At a military check point
Is composing a song
For a child somewhere:
'A farm woman works on the soil
Mixing vinegar and olive oil
Have many hens on a row
Wakes at every dawn flick
On the sound of a cockcrow'
A fighter jet on the other side
Drops a bomb.
The child can hear no more
The woman works no more
And no more sound of a cockcrow.
On another part of the world
A TV viewer
Switches on a news channel
And sees an explosion.
He changes to a music channel
Hears a song
Relieving the explosion in his head.
you have focused on a contemporary and modern theme... it was once said, and may still partly be true………….“the media is the message” I guess the insensitivity of mankind is monumental…. Beautiful write about this phenomenon….where the media drives the mill and drives man crazy too… Loved yer lines Be happy
two different sounds, two different views....but one impact..indelible! ! nice poem!
quite interesting to read, as when written from heart by truth, well penned,10++
thank you for writing a great poem. it was definately worth reading =)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Its French jets though also Libyan forces supporting the neo-capitalism of a dictator partially or totally- i know and watched brit tabloids and television entering or masquerading Libyan Jamahiryas air invited by corrupt elements who beyond its people have personal objectives and are islamic without following it completely.The one tainted so called murdered gaddar or God Gaddafi -for him neither farm woman, nor musician and nor counting hen and a childs cry important.For him is his luxury and position and for western worlds French being neighbouring colonizer, Italy being former trouble maker some 1930s for Libyan oil only is important not how much blood it spilled or spills.And as usual war-soldiers are sold-for some its mothers milk and for someone else its perhaps beyond understanding-whose war is this or that-when machines are in hand you must trigger and dig in.Machines do not separate good and bad-they are like your mill as well-they dig with the speed of sound or more -bullets where you see the colour of lead to be helical deaths sprayed on you.Thats the reason where there is no war, there is music coz all wars are in excess of hearing pollutions of sixty five decibels or rather morphed, edited to music