Boy Soldier

From my soon-to-be-published collection - Memories of Time Travel - a poem inspired after reading of the life and work of Japanese journalist Kenji Goto, after his murder by religious fundamentalists, 

 

Boy Soldier

 

A life ambushed before it’s ever begun

an orphan soldier at the end of a gun

it takes a village to raise a child

but that village

is razed to the ground,

 

Violence, no child should witness

allegiance demanded buries revenge

burning, fear hate hardens,

and infects the next,

 

Out of darkness

a knife slashes

rifle ready he shoots

his mother’s scared face falls away

wakes in cold sweat again,

 

Proven promoted rewarded

a circle of abuse perpetuates

the shiver on his heart

his life a shadow,

 

Everything he was meant to be

grows ever fainter,

memories beaten bloody silenced

calling from a prison truck

just faces of the dead,

 

His future locked

on a path that narrows

to an end

his story will not be told

just another corpse to clear away.

Arc of the divers

I’ve found that people, especially those who like sport, can get quite into the some of the ‘minor’ sports during the Olympics (hockey, archery, the keirin ? ). For me it’s the diving, particularly the synchronised diving pairs. It’s the grace, the speed and the neat entry, and the slow-motion replays.

 

Arc of the diverS

Still

reach

bounce

launch

twist

unwind

to tuck

spin

unfold

spear

disappear

splish

 

Clean lines, so clean it wipes the memory,

the sensation is all that remains

 

They know

how they executed

For us, the slow motion replay;

 

Parallel synchronicity,

Where every flaw would be exposed,

a graceful flawless elegance.

Twisting like tree ornaments in the wind

Spinning like clockwork, the inner wheels

Every frame a picture of grace and tension

Out of the tuck to break the plane together

Leaving two puffs of water

As if they had shot into another dimension

 

They’ll show that replay again.