Was it something we know that made her go?

Was it the dripping tap that made her snap or the ticking clock that boiled her rock.Maybe again it was the creaking floor that made her roar or the banging door that tipped the score. Could it of been the pinking oven alarm that made her cause harm.Was it the screaming kids that blew her lid or the pneumatic drill that made her ill. It might of been the revving bikes that made her temper take a hike. The demanding pong of the laptop’s mail alert that made her squirt.Was it the nagging of the TV screen that made her scream. Or might it of been the missed bus that made her cuss or the closed shop when she needed it open that blew her top. Maybe again the empty petrol tank, her over stretched heart, sank.

I HAVE HAD ENOUGH

Was it the stress that caused her mess, maybe the press that made her digress. Or was it just life that caused her strife and made her go and take her life?…………………..WELL WAS IT??


Journal For Poetry Challenge#7 22,01,2012

A. E. Housman

A. E. Housman

Alfred Edward Housman was born in Fockbury, Worcestershire, England, on March 26, 1859, the eldest of seven children. A year after his birth, Housman’s family moved to nearby Bromsgrove, where the poet grew up and had his early education. In 1877, he attended St. John’s College, Oxford and received first class honours in classical moderations.

Despite acclaim as a scholar and a poet in his lifetime, Housman lived as a recluse, rejecting honors and avoiding the public eye. He died in 1936 in Cambridge.

http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/631

THE DESERTER

`What sound awakened me, I wonder,
  For now 'tis dumb.'
`Wheels on the road most like, or thunder:
  Lie down; 'twas not the drum.'

Toil at sea and two in haven
  And trouble far;
Fly, crow, away, and follow, raven,
  And all that croaks for war.

`Hark, I heard the bugle crying,
  And where am I?
My friends are up and dressed and dying,
  And I will dress and die.'

`Oh love is rare and trouble plenty
  And carrion cheap,
And daylight dear at four-and-twenty:
  Lie down again and sleep.'

`Reach me my belt and leave your prattle:
  Your hour is gone;
But my day is the day of battle,
  And that comes dawning on.

`They mow the field of man in season:
  Farewell, my fair,
And, call it truth or call it treason,
  Farewell the vows that were.'

`Ay, false heart, forsake me lightly:
  'Tis like the brave.
They find no bed to joy in rightly
  Before they find the grave.

`Their love is for their own undoing,
  And east and west
They scour about the world a-wooing
  The bullet to their breast.

`Sail away the ocean over,
  Oh sail away,
And lie there with your leaden lover
  For ever and a day.'
####################################################################################

Many a brave man was portrayed as a coward in the Great War and in all wars too. I have 
included this poem because I want to address all aspects of war. A lot of the "Deserters and 
Cowards" were men suffering from Post Traumatic Distress Syndrome. Today they would be treated
well we hope that they would but back then they were shot.
Those who were conscientious objectors were given the worse jobs possible or sent to prison 
they were despised and ridiculed and shunned from society. Some were sent to war as stretcher 
bearers and ambulance drivers and they were always unarmed. I must say here before I upset
anyone not all stretcher bearers or ambulance drivers were conscientious objectors.
In the first world war if the men were not fighting as well as expected and the generals 
felt that they were not fighting hard enough they had shells fired at their own posts . Men
armed the rifles, bayonets and officers with only revolvers were sent "over the top" of the 
trenches to be mown down by machine gun fire and shell. Hence the saying " Cannon fodder " 
this also applies to wars before and after.
Mud, dead bodies, constant noise, bombs exploding, men and animals ( horses )screaming, lice,
 dirt, food when ever, fear, CONSTANT FEAR. No wander some deserted, no wonder I am surprised that 
they did not all desert. 
And yes I know there will always be chancers and criminal types who see a chance or opportunity
to slope off and make money, they will always exist on all sides. The point is that in the first
and second world wars men sometimes for senseless reasons were shot. I am just saying
I feel that is wrong. Even "Brave" men can get Traumatic Distress Syndrome " 
##########################################################################################

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below:

 


 



Genuine Blogger Award.

Thank You

Firstly I must say a belated thank you to Betty Hayes Albright     at Seasonings. For nominating me for the Genuine Blogger Award. As ever I am always delighted and surprised and not to forget grateful to receive an award.

There are no rules but I would recommend Betty’s blog  and I would like to nominate  a few wonderful blogs , please please do be upset if I have not put you down here you are all wonderful and you all deserve this award!

  zumpoems

Memo Blog

http://fallenelegy.wordpress.com/

poetry and persistence

friskybunny

vampireweather

Blank Pages

livingwithablackdog

hollyanne gets poetic

likethesunshone

zendictive

Words from my Soul

Lil Lady… Giant Brain

Verse Not Prose

granbee

Will Of Heart

rumpydog

WordsFallFromMyEyes

fourwindowspress

So here we are nearly at the end of the first month of 2012…… Nothing has changed so we all need to keep paddling like mad to just stay were we are! Let us pull together and see if we can move forward! Love to you all name or not named!! xxxxx

 

 

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