poem with no title

Having just posted a poem about dreams, I thought I would post one about something that has been haunting my dreams for many months now, the plight of refugees. I wrote it in response to the latest dVerse Poets’ challenge, which is to include a line from a song lyric. Mine is from the Sex Pistols: God Save the Queen (“we’re the flowers in the bin”).

from seed to bloom
our journey’s long
who will listen to our song
who will give us standing room
we’re the flowers in the bin
we’re the flowers in the bin
some day soon they tell us
we’ll be free
we’ll be free they tell us
some day soon
what’s our sin we ask them
what’s our sin
you’re the flowers in the bin they answer
you’re the flowers in the bin
babies mothers fathers twins
we will overflow their bins
what’s our sin we ask you
tell us please
our hopes discomfort you like fleas
we’re the flowers in the bin
we’re the flowers in the bin

dreams

This is a quadrille on the theme of dreams, which was the challenge set by whimzygizmo of dVerse Poets this week.

in dreams we are weightless
travellers with no baggage
holding tickets printed
with invisible ink
unfettered by expectation
it matters not when we arrive
nor where our winding journey began
our destination is unscheduled
in dreams we can be winners
not just also-rans

Moving on

Her legs were knobbly boles

jammed into shabby slippers

her swollen feet two massive moles

shuffling along on flappy flippers

she’d lost her lover long ago

he’d found a svelte and pretty thing

she wondered if this girl would know

she’d soon be tethered to his ring

soon she too would feel the rips

appearing in her self esteem

and when she offered him her lips

he’d vanish into someone else’s dream