Belshazzar’s Feast

 

I set a place of forgetting at the table.

It was only after the meal that I remembered,

And then it was too late . . .

Published in Love's First Look, poems by SC Fordham (2010)

Poppy

Grown in such inhospitable ground

Petals of pity trembling in battle’s breeze

Pity for all that’s lost, for all in the grip of blind force

Pity for every soul torn, for the weight of unrelenting remorse

Distressed soil of forgotten fields your home

The earth weeping the blood in which your seed is sown

Pick the poppy, make its death your own

Wear it close to your heart, walk on

But do not look for peace

It is the shoes on your feet

Published in The Cool of the Day, poems by SC Fordham (2009)

love is setting

Love is setting like the sun

So soon to disappear into the unseen real

To sleep, to dream of requite in the deep heart of an earth

That does not feel loss

That does not know longing

That does not hold life

In Truth

How long will the night to come last?

How long will this last light remain?

Time filters what strength is left through ancient fingers 

Whilst the world waits

Watches and waits for the first flickering rays of hope

Forgetfulness

The war goes on

One long battle from fall to fallen to now

It has not stopped

The delusion of progress has not yet halted us on our march

Has not yet unveiled her lying eyes

We see through them believing the next battle won will be the last

But it is not

Each fight contains the seeds of the next sown

True remembrance flown 

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