Forty Nine

Status: Finished

Forty Nine

Status: Finished

Forty Nine Forty Nine

Poem by: dibbledabble

Details

Genre: Poetry

Houses:

Summary

Not a cleverly written poem, just one that needed to be written. It expresses my horror at the brutality in Houle and the distain I feel for the inablity of us all to stop such outrages. Personally I feel anger at myself that I am part of the system that allows this to go on.

I am not sure that 49 is the real figure it is what is reported, but 49 or 1 the sentiment is the same.

I have not posted a picture with this poem as the one I would have chosen were to dreadful and may even cause some to skip by and not read.

Summary

Not a cleverly written poem, just one that needed to be written. It expresses my horror at the brutality in Houle and the distain I feel for the inablity of us all to stop such outrages. Personally I feel anger at myself that I am part of the system that allows this to go on.

I am not sure that 49 is the real figure it is what is reported, but 49 or 1 the sentiment is the same.

I have not posted a picture with this poem as the one I would have chosen were to dreadful and may even cause some to skip by and not read.

Content

Submitted: May 31, 2012

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: May 31, 2012

A A A

A A A


Forty Nine

.

Forty nine young souls massacred

Children slaughtered, bound, throats cut

Died in terror with a bullet to the head.

Comfortably we sit and condemn the horror

Syria a despot state in its own death throws?

Or a tyrannous state with a cyanide grip on its people?

After Belsen did we not say ‘never again’?

But still the lynch men came, rabid dogs sent

by their masters to wreak havoc on the innocent

After Pol Pot’s killing fields did we not say ‘this must stop’?

But Bashar al-Assad in Damascus sits crimson covered

A victim of a conspiracy he claims

while the Alawite murder under the protection of his shells

.

Yet we sit comfortably sick at our ineptitude

Paralysed by the financiers and fanatics

Who continue to play Assad’s deadly game of chess.

We may wave our placards and our leaders rattle their sabers

For a while at least, and the world will feel better about itself

But the money in our pockets and a change in the weather

will erode our fervour and dull our sensitivities.

Such is our byte sized fed world that these children will be

forgotten and lost in a countless lists of growing atrocities

In forty nine days will we remember this brutality?

In forty nine days will we even care?

By Dibs


© Copyright 2016 dibbledabble. All rights reserved.

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