2020 WEEKLY #TANKA TUESDAY #POETRY CHALLENGE NO. 204, #THEMEPROMPT

WELCOME TO TANKA TUESDAY!

It’s the fourth week of the month! Are you ready for a theme prompt?

This month’s theme is a haiku written by Sue Vincent:

clouds cover the moon,
beyond dawn’s pale horizon
sun rises unseen
.

©2020 Sue Vincent

Please use the above haiku to inspire your own syllabic poetry. There’s a lot to unpack in these words. What will your interpretation be? Go where the words take you.

I wrote an Etheree in honour of the Dawn.

Photo©SueVincent.

New Hope

A
Sliver
Of silver.
A ray of hope
Night shades wrapped and cloaked.
Dawn dancing on her way
With stealth she starts a new day
Silver and gold look glorious
Bright skirts swirling around, hope for us.
Secretly ringing the changes of life.

This is part of Colleen Chesebro’s Tuesday Tanka.

From Jane Dougherty.

Progress report

Originally posted on Jan Doherty Writes.

I have a few success stories to crow about, so I’ll let them all go here.

First, I’m proud to have three poems in the anthology As the World Burns published by Indie Blue. I get a special thrill that my third entry is the poem that closes the collection. Yes, my desk is a mess but I can’t tidy it because of the ladybirds hibernating on it.

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Read more at Jane Dougherty Writes

An extra long One-Liner Wednesday.

”So many words veiling the truth the others turning and it’s time for us to choose and people will try to take you down too
But if I was a betting man, I’d put all my money on you so be the young, the brave, the powerful ’cause the world is standing waiting for someone to come and change it.”

Jamed Blunt

This is part of LindaGHill’s One-Liner Wednesday.

Rememberance Day. 2020

Image from here

High Flight 

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds,-and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of-wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air….

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark nor ever eagle flew-
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high un-trespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God

*********

This poem was found in many of the Kriegies’ YMCA issued diaries.    Written by John G. Magee on September 3, 1941.  Magee was born in Shanghai, China, of missionary parents-an American father and an English mother, and spoke Chinese before English. He was educated at Rugby school in England and at Avon Old Farms School in Connecticut.  He won a Scholarship to Yale, but instead joined the Royal Canadian Air Force in late 1940, trained in Canada, and was sent to Britain. He flew in a Spitfire squadron and was killed on a routine training mission on December 11, 1941. The sonnet above was sent to his parents written on the back of a letter which said, “I am enclosing a verse I wrote the other day. It started at 30,000 feet, and was finished soon after I landed.” He also wrote of his course ending soon and of his then going on operations, and added, “I think we are very lucky as we shall just be in time for the autumn blitzes (which are certain to come.

*********

This poem is almost a prayer. It is as soft and light as it contents and as deep and heavy as it contents, too. Full of references to cutting the bonds of earth, soaring high on emotions like laughter, delirium, joy mirth. Dancing flying swooping and flying higher than birds. Reaching the edge of space. Then that last line , a line that says it all for me . Where never lark nor ever eagle flew-And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod The high untrespassed sanctity of space,Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

Such beauty written about such a deadly subject. Planes carrying bombs to flatten hillsides , villages, towns and cities……. Such a contradiction. Words of one who had not flown in war’s true theatre.  If you would like to learn more about John G Magee  read here

#TANKA TUESDAY POETRY CHALLENGE NO. 202 SYNONYMSONLY

WELCOME TO TANKA TUESDAY!

This week, Kat Myrman, from Like Mercury Colliding, selected the words:

I have written about the world as it is today. I am asking nature to help my children and grandchildren, everyone else’s too. We would be so grateful if we could have a better world. I have used synonyms for the two prompt words as well as counting my syllables.

Imagine & Gratitude

A
Life where
Thankfulness
Is not a dream
But reality.
Let’s make believe it’s true
No war,plague, famine or hate.
In my dreams I hear you saying
Is it too much to picture real peace.
I would really appreciate normal

This is part of Colleen Chesebro’s Tuesday Tanka.

Ronovan Writes #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge 331 FIRST & Heal

The Challenge Words!

FIRST & Heal

©Maureen Collins.

Before we can heal

We have first to learn the truth

Bright new beginnings.

This is part of Ronovanwrite’s Weekly Haiku Challenge.

We shall never forget.

They lie not in that empty grave
Beneath the foreign sod.
They do not lie forgotten
In that cold, and desolate Land of Nod.

Soldier Boy … Solider Boy,
The trumpets blast, and blare;
And wreaths are laid at the Cenotaph,
To show … that we still care.

But … there’s a greater love than Man’s
Who knows the price you paid.
He spared you the indignity,
And lifted you from that cold, cold grave.

He created a Great Celestial Shrine,
And the moment it was done …
With a gentle hand, placed the Valiant heart,
Of each dear Mother’s son.

Soldier Boy … Solider Boy,
Under Dutch blue skies,
The gentle Breeze of Holland …
Kiss your grave … as they pass by.

Written by  Earl Doucette

I could not find anything about Earl Doucette apart from the fact that he was Canadian.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This  is a beautiful poem. It speaks of God, whatever name  you give him/her, lifting all the dead soldiers from their cold or hot and bloodied graves all over the world and  in all times past and future and even present. He takes  them to Heaven ..whatever name you have for heaven. It is a comfort to us all, for the violent deaths and hurried burials that soldiers on the battle theatres  of war received. It troubles us all and so we have these poems to salve our consciences and please our tender souls .

We all have Remembrance Days but this is a way of saying they got a greater remembrance. I shall say no more you have all heard my feelings on War .

Lest we forget. Rememberance Sunday 2020.

Today is the nearest Sunday to Remembrance Day  here in  the UK . Because of Covid 19 the Veterans will not be Marching. Also we will not forgetting all those men and women injured and killed in more recent conflicts.

I  thought I  would  remember  the  women  for  WW1  and  WW2 who  took over  all  the  jobs  that the  men  who  had  been  sent  off  to  war  left  empty here in what  was  known then as  Great  Britain.

Not  only  did  the  women  do  these  , sometimes  very  dangerous  jobs but  they  looked after  the families  and  homes. Now  I  do  not  wish in  any  way  to  detract  from  the huge  sacrifice  of  all the  men  who  fought  for  our countries during  the  two  wars .

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Remember the women left back home.

They made the ammunition for Tommy

Dangerous work,they died too it was not funny.

Women became officers of the law

Something never heard of before.

Nurses, drivers  even pilots for planes

Remember  them  we  will never  know  their  names

Someone had to give  the  farmers a hand

Remember   the men  were  at war  in a  foreign  land.

The members  of  the ” fairer  sex ”

Drove  the  buses, trains  and  lorries

Kept  all essential job going , however  complex

They  also  fed  the family  and kept  the Home Fires  Burning

twr_crop__homeb1_iwm-q30040-shell-factory-uk-40-iwm_ipad

During  the  wars ww1 and  ww2  women filled  in the  gaps  that  the  men  who  had  been sent  off  to  war  left. It  is  not  always  remembered  that  they worked in  the factorys  drove  buses trains and flew  planes and  probably  sailed  ships.  They  became  members  of  the  forces, nurses at  home  and on the  war  front  too. They  were  also  seconded into  the police  these  jobs  were almost unheard of  for  women before  the  first  world war. They  also  had  to do hard  farm labour  on  the farms to help keep  the  food  supplies  going.

Women worked in  shipyards, built  planes  and  also  made  ammunition, hard  and  dangerous  work.

It  was not just  the   fact  that the  bombs , shells or  landmines  could  explode  if  mishandled  but  the  TNT  was  dangerous  to  the  women’s  health.

” Munitions workers whose job was filling shells were prone to suffer from TNT poisoning. TNT stood for Trinitrotoluene – an explosive which turned the skin yellow of those who regularly came into contact with it. The munitions workers who were affected by this were commonly known as ‘canaries’ due to their bright yellow appearance. Although the visible effects usually wore off, some women died from working with TNT, if they were exposed to it for a prolonged period. As Ethel Dean, who worked at Woolwich Arsenal, recalled, ‘Everything that that powder touches goes yellow. All the girls’ faces were yellow, all round their mouths. They had their own canteen, in which everything was yellow that they touched… Everything they touched went yellow – chairs, tables, everything.’ (IWM SR 9439More  imformation  here

Women did  so many  jobs that  before  the  first  world  war, those of  the middle  and  higher class would  never  even  contemplated. Many  died of  injury  and  of  disease  due  to  chemicals,  asbestos  used in  badly  ventilated  buildings.

Also  they played  their  part in  SOE   read here   and also  here  .

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All images  from  Google Images  women  at  war  ww1 and  ww2

And the Men

We sent them off to war,

These bright young men

We had no knowledge of what they saw,

They came home, bright young men no more .

Yes though brave they were no longer whole

Those that survived had no soul.

Many died,the lucky ones, death to them was kind.

Those who returned were faded in body and in mind.

Their loved ones at first relieved

Soon found they had much cause to grieve.

Though there, in body broken,

Their fears left unspoken

Their minds were left behind.

They went out whole, these bright young things.

They returned lost, holding on by gossimar strings

Taplow Court

They went full of pride for God and King

They ran head long into hell

On return they could not relinquish it’s spell.

So we had a nation of half men, half ghosts

Fearful, their heads still had them at their posts.

The trenches and the blasts of bombs, the smell of death

Clung to them and bled them dry, the whole in body, the blind of eye

The amputee, it was as if they had never left.

We sent them off to war,

These bright young men

We had no knowledge of what they saw,

They returned, bright young men no more.

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Paintings by William Rothenstein.

The Red, White and Purple Poppy.

I do not want to upset anyone but as we draw near to Rememberance Day I just wanted to share my feelings on the poppies we wear. I wrote this back in 2018.

There are more than one, these days, the red to remember the dead, the white for peace. The white to remember the conscientious objector. During WW1 and WW2 many thought these men were cowards. I do feel they were brave, enough to stand up for their beliefs. Many were tried and shot for not taking up arms. Many spent the war as medics and stretcher bearers unarmed or in the mines though of course not all wartime miners were objctors.

What ever you think, the wars killed them irrespective of their principles. I respect the Red and the White.

The Red and the White.

Why

Argue

Both were brave

Each had their own

Principles to up

Hold. Neither less than bold.

One would carry a weapon

The other a stretcher, no gun

Both men died for their own held beliefs

They were both lost and that loss brought much grief.

———

Then there is the Purple Poppy in remembrance of all the animals who died in service during conflicts and serve with us still in modern conflicts.

They pulled the gun carriages until they dropped

They carried messages and they got shot.

They search out the unexploded mines

They save lives a thousand times.

Spare a thought for the horse, pigeon, donkey dog and many more

Remember them, they all help us in times of war

Stream of Consciousness Saturday: Jour.

Linda G Hill said :Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “jour.” Find a word containing “jour” or use it as is. Bonus points if you start or end your post with that word. Enjoy!

image from Pixabay.

Jour means day in French. How much nicer it sounds in a language that is not our own. To me jour sounds exotic and special, unlike day which is ordinary every day, unlike Tous Les jours which sounds very sauve (another French word for smart or chic). Then there is sojourn , a French word a short stay.

Then there is journal, another French word for for, diary, paper, magazine. That leads to journalist, journalism, journalistic.

I could continue journey, to travel, journeyman, a workman/ tradesman. I could continue but I will not.

This is my post of the day Mon poste du jour.

Badge by Shelley Krupa

This is part of LindaGHill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday #SoCs

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