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Morning News

Rating: 4.2

Spring wafts up the smell of bus exhaust, of bread
and fried potatoes, tips green on the branches,
repeats old news: arrogance, ignorance, war.
A cinder-block wall shared by two houses
is new rubble. On one side was a kitchen
sink and a cupboard, on the other was
a bed, a bookshelf, three framed photographs.

Glass is shattered across the photographs;
two half-circles of hardened pocket bread

sit on the cupboard. There provisionally was
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D Lane 24 February 2016

Powerful use of words. I especially like how certain words like kitchen, photograph, houses, bread, and branches are woven throughout the poem and keep appearing in various contexts like melodic riffs in a symphony.

4 0 Reply
Susan Williams 24 February 2016

This is the quintessential definition of literature. The woman does not spare us- not one single war-torn image is omitted. She wants us to cringe at the contrast and we do. I have net with many poets I had never read before on this site- -but she with this one single poem has outwritten all the rest.

23 0 Reply
Anil Kumar Panda 24 February 2016

A beautiful poem about daily drudgery of life. Loved it.

1 0 Reply
Edward Kofi Louis 24 February 2016

Both hostage to the happenstance of war! Thanks for sharing.

2 1 Reply