Poetry Pleases: A Cradle
Stephen Morse ponders deeply on the cradle that is our civilisation.
Landscape rocked by bombing,
Targeted earthquakes for palaces and towers,
Flashes and holocausts
Competing in the sky with stars,
Armoured caravans
Crawling across a dusty land
Destroying like belligerent ants,
Liberating anarchy to rock the world
And loot even its smallest jewel.
A cradle should be gently rocked
So that the babe asleep
Dreams of the growth of love and peace
And the delights in Eden's garden -
Gently rocked not overwhelmed
With war and conquest's thunder.
A cradle? What cradle this?
Civilisation's cradle
Snatched at and ruined
By the arrogance of power.....
Have your say
Tell us what you think of this article. Do you have a story to tell? Get in touch!
