Young Writers Society

red roses shiver in the dusty breeze.

Tropical light filters the air and weaves

into the ancients songs sung

by silver tongues.

Poverty-

cold and brutal

like a knife,

digging into the warm flesh that is love

And life.

Though their songs merry and cheery

played upon by the innocence of laughter.

Each of their bellies is starved.

Toddlers deprived of milk.

Cheese 10 euros for a pound.

Tomatoes blister and burn heavy in the sun,

but where they should be plucked by strangers hands

or a hard-earned meal

They line the shelves

at cost

Sweet Maria,

you have disappeared

No longer blessing us with your angel kiss

And where God may be,

in these times

Flowers and tulips alike

cannot calm the raging storms

And the relentless tragedy inside of us

Italy is sold!

Sold to the Devil in the white shirt

Can I bid higher?

To the banks you say?

I don’t see why not!

We thought it was going okay

A politician with a pretty face

wanted change

But now he’s gone

and has been replaced

by the sincerity that is ‘democracy’

Oh, heavens above!

The children starve-

drop-dead like flies

Each only lives for a day

Our tears to drink

Our hope to eat-

our nourishment

is our grief

How divine

bread and wine!

So long the taste of sweetness

may fall upon my lips

Run down my throat as soft as honey

The only honey we can share

is each other’s

withered kiss

Arrivederci to the good times

The mountains of Tuscany

The rivers and the lakes

are off-limits

To the peasants of the game

Please

What have you done?

The reincarnation of evil

your smile is all the evidence

Of your sinister

agenda

It’s World War 2

All over again

How did it all start?

Carry me away!

Far from here

Bury me down

on a mountain

with the trees

I want to be away

from humanity.

I can hear their boots

And their rasps

on my door

The military

come to kill us

with their batons

A thump

And I drop to the floor

I feel myself

slipping away

My throat is parched

I can’t hear their words.

So many have been slayed

I am yet another

on that pile of corpses

Ashes to ashes 

Dust to dust

The empire of the past

is back 

from the dead.

I thought that the bad times

Had gone stale

And had been burnt away

by hope's grim light

and education

But now smiling faces

and battle-cries

can't beat the lethal sword that is

night's frozen darkness

and sinister lies.

Goodbye life

And love

Peace has gone

Resurrected only

By long lost smiles

Instead anger

Fills the expressions

Of our people

And guns

In their hands