the sound ...

of emptiness within the sound of sirens, the wind stirred trees, the creaking of the house and the heart therein
the sound ...
of silence within each worded moment - let it bring you to the verge of ...
tears

They sent me away

They sent me away, they did, smiling and waving, few provisions in my sack, no compass, save the flickering stars

And what a night it was, howling moaning wind whispering through every part of my poor aching body

Speaking softly and slowly a prayer from an ancient book: Help me, O LORD my God: O save me according to thy mercy* …

And there it was, just the fact of a sole figure moving into darkness and the vastness of space

*Psalm 109:26

What will become of me ...?

What will become of me?

Of them?

Of us?

Of you who are reading this?

What will become of the blood and the bones that we hope will last when natural beauty has faded?

What will become of love not expressed, not returned, never seen the light of day? 

And love that is, that was, that basked in the shining sun?

What will become of the ones that could not be saved?

And of the ones that were plucked from the raging seas?

Winning or losing .... 

The world turns and turn we do in spinning space

And turn we must upon the perilous knife-edge of choosing

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 

Click here for a list of current armed conflicts