It's A Bird, It's A Plane, It's -

6 August 1945

He watched his son play;

Frolic in the grass, not a care in the world

Safe in the assurance of Innocence

And the security of Youth -

All his life stretched before him

Like a long, winding, uncertain road

Which disappeared over the horizon -

He offered a silent prayer

That the road of Destiny

Would lead him to a happy land -

Then they heard a rumbling in the sky

And a Something caught his eye

And he would never reply

When his son asked him - “What is that?”

 

It was the clearest summer day

All the children came out to play

And the sun shone in the blue skies

Upon the wings of butterflies…

All the fields were full of flowers

A panorama of colour

The little birds danced and warbled

Little streams winded and gurgled

And the mountains stood, immobile

Like gigantic men of marble

The gentlemen bowed to ladies

The farmers, they toiled in paddies

Red dot against the white of peace

Fluttered upon the summer breeze;

A drop of blood - just picture it!

Upon a scene so picturesque!

 

They heard a rumbling in the sky

A speck of Something caught their eye

A Something; through the shy it sails

Just like a single ball of hail

A puzzled silence - a split second -

Then, “What is that?”; then -

 

On that beautiful summers’ day

The world changed forever

In a flash,

The same flash that devoured a hundred thousand souls

In a second;

Nothing was ever the same again.

Man had discovered the ultimate power

A terrible power, that could flatten whole cities

In an instant

Leaving nothing but the dust and ashes

To which we must all return

Yes, the ultimate power…

The power to destroy himself…

Reviews

[SINDE]

Yet another well written piece. The story behind it struck a chord in me plus your choice of words as always created vivid mental pictures. It's a sad thing that man counts no loss in taking the lives of the innocent all in the name of conquest. This piece is powerful. Thank you for sharing.

'Little streams winded and
gurgled
And the mountains stood,
immobile
Like gigantic men of marble
The gentlemen bowed to ladies
The farmers, they toiled in
paddies
Red dot against the white of
peace
Fluttered upon the summer
breeze;
A drop of blood - just picture it!
Upon a scene so picturesque..'

[?]

This was well written and with such truth.
It is so sad that man can do this to man.
The ending is such a sad but powerful ending to this wonderful poem.
Thanks for sharing