Another Day

Another Day

A Poem by Chris Shaw
"

(Written at the very start of Ukraine's Invasion)

"
bones of a blackened
building barely remain
upright

once a happy home
flesh brick work becomes
rubble piled high

floral curtains flap in tatters
acrid smoke permeates
through choked air

monday's laundry
a memory of freshly rinsed
lavender comfort

where once a child played
her knitted doll sandwiched
inbetween bombed ruins

her black eyes search
for the mercy of heaven
there is none

only the wail of sirens
when missiles rain down
another day begins


© 2022 Chris Shaw


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Featured Review

War is a terrible thing. Tyranny that incites war is even worse. Ukraine has suffered the tyranny of Russian aggression before. Stalin starved the people to death by the millions during the Holodomor. There were emaciated corpses lining the city streets. This is recorded in photographs and recognized by the Ukrainian people though largely forgotten by the rest of the world. They will never surrender or capitulate to Russian aggression because to do so, as history attests, is certain death.

Posted 2 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Chris Shaw

2 Years Ago

Your background history information regarding the war in Ukraine, speaks for itself. Understandable .. read more



Reviews

excellent, Chris. Took me straight to all the miserable wars idiots have begun, including the present one.

Posted 2 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Chris Shaw

2 Years Ago

Thank you. I appreciate your response W.

Chris
Chris such a barren, bleak and grim picture of the horrors of war. If intentional the second stanza "flesh brickwork" casts a macabre image to the poem. Well written

Posted 2 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Chris Shaw

2 Years Ago

Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I appreciate you.

Chris

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22 Reviews
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Added on July 26, 2022
Last Updated on July 26, 2022

Author

Chris Shaw
Chris Shaw

Berkshire, United Kingdom



About
Albert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more..

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