Giselle Marks
The Price
When the sun sets on some far distant shore
And the sounds and sights of battle are heard no more,
Then the weeping of women is the price.
When at last the peace treaty has been signed
When the “t”s have been crossed and underlined,
The courage of our wounded is the price.
When the cries of victory echo brightly in our ears
Who comforts the losers through their fears?
Then justice for the weak is the price.
When mines and bombs have halted the advance
Of soldiers torn apart. Why take the chance?
That maiming of our children is the price.
Do warriors count the cost?
Of wars begun and battles lost.
Is the butcher’s list ever worth?
The bodies interred in earth.
Can all the tears we cried
Be wiped away by our pride.
However many wrongs we correct
Erase the suffering we neglect.
Who decides when lines are crossed
Whether war is worth the cost.
Thinking Time
Advance
Simplicity makes a hopeful beginning,
Added complexities entangle ideas with dross,
Requiring the unravelling of concepts and
Elucidation of intention without making
Progress.
Wonderful words inscribed on paper
Impart little meaning.
Sibilant sounds echo with supplication yet
The story remains
Untold.
Sensuality without love, without need.
Violence without motive, without anger.
Fudge and fur the boundaries between
Poignant essential truths remain
Hidden.
Slash and burn, reform and search
Out the treasures thrown among
The ordure of pretension permeates
The senses, acrid, fetid filth
Corrupts.
All traces of ostentation erase.
With humility restartTo gladly expound
The joy extant within your
Heart.
I need some divine assistance
Something to spark a fire and begin
A thought of some importance
And bring out what lurks within.
Nothing comes, nothing ignites
I rack my brains but nothing bites.
So I do some chores and read a book
Hoping that new ideas would linger
Wish thoughts would let me look
Or write mystically with a magic finger.
No revelations, No starting point,
Only humdrum notions that disappoint.
Don’t despair!
You know it will come
Work on something new
Don’t need a feast, a simple crumb
A pinch of this and that makes a witch’s brew.
Research and learn, but still no zing
No miracle, imagination offers nothing.
Refresh my soul, sleep and dream
Remember tales from long before
Filter sparks for the very cream
And it will flow and I will soar
High above the muddy earth
As my masterpiece gives birth.
Isolation
Solitary but not by preference
Children fledged and flown your nest
Returning to check upon the mother
And reassure their selves ofHer existence.
Smile and be happy they are grown
Independent, strong and content.
Do not complain of their neglect,
Do not expect them to miss
Your presence.
Rebuilding with scattered tools
Along with all the other fools,
Seeking justification for the sense of loss
And meaning from activities
Lacking value.
Yet others look on and admire
Your reconstruction blooming.
Seeing hope in your small successes
For their own missing point
For living.
More than a Word
Light filtering through a wintry sky
Coloured strange shades of grey
No sign if white or gold showing
And a slight breeze blowing.
Yet on this spring day there is hope
Leaves bud and flowers sprout
Grass glows green and fresh
Somewhere there is happiness.
Grateful that the rain has ceased
The thunder no longer rolls,
The day may yet turn out fine,
I may hang my washing on the line.
Smile and rejoice that winter is gone?
Or fear the lowering sky will blacken
And open its bulging store,
Of water to let it pour once more?
Should I set out and risk the wetting,
That might fall, or watch and wait
And in doing so miss a chance to walk
To meet friends and cheerfully talk?
A shaft of sun fought through the gloom
Just briefly to illuminate
The beauties of the earth below
To tease me with its glow?
Brush my hair and find
My shoes, put on that coat
And move, before the weather changed
Pray it holds fine and is not rearranged.
A little sunshine is all I crave
To add cheer to my existence
And dry the tears I cry,
Making me stop asking why?
But joy dwells within I am told
Happiness is much rarer than gold.
I must discover what will give me smiles
I know it’s not fashion’s latest styles,
Nor possessions that I do not need,
What makes me happy? What indeed?
What am I missing that will change my life?What will rescue pleasure from this strife?Someone to hold, someone to care for me?
Is it that simple? Will love set me free?From the chains of sorrow I have worn
And embraced by love no longer forlorn?