Richard and Nazanin

For Richard and Nazanin

They will starve, the world watching

His skin bruised by the years of

Loneliness and deprivation

Of his family.

———————–

Her song of a deathly fast 

To cry for freedom and

To be with her loved ones

To walk to the park and

Play on the swings with her 

Beautiful beloved daughter,

To work again and not 

be terrorised by angry men

who want to ignore and bully

and break her spirit.

————————–

Where is the grace?

It is in them as they wait

whittling away the weeks

and their flesh, for their

freedom to be a family

is more that a piece of bread

but a gift to us all

of a sacrificial love

enduring extreme 

agony.

The Bee Loud Glade of death

The yellow striped torso caught the sun,

revealing the trembling tiny hairs

and fragile filigree wings working

with God to nurture nature and so

—-

the bee flew over the fence to

the fragile flowers opening to the sun, 

and heard the happy buzzing of harvest;

as he sipped sweetness of stamens and 

—-

packed pollen baskets ensuring survival;

and banded bodies caked with yellow dust

feasted on people poisoned plants, and

—-

Struggling back to a busy, booming base

grew the honeycomb for the winter’s food.

The six-sided cells filled with sweetness,

Bursting with new life, delighting  

the dancing queen. Til,

—–

everyone of them sickened and died. 

Bodies in the Waves.


The boy stood on the burning deck

sun scorching skin

and salt seared lips,

and still she stood

and still he searched

til a shocking shout,

“Bloody hell!”

“We’ve found them!” 

———————————

An ark of horror,

a wallowing craft

sinking slowly,

and bodies bobbing 

and cherished children,

and wounded women, 

wracked and weary,

staring in shocked silence.

—————————

They lower the ship’s boat.

They’re saving who they can,

treating black burnt skin

thirst, and terrible trauma;

and still they die

to be buried at sea

save a scarred shattered few.

—————————-

They try a port and try again

the crew begging for mercy;

and still, authorities cry out,

“We’re not having them!’

And they loath the little faces,

the outstretched hands

and rook their rights.

——————————–