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Array ( [sid] => 57255 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => My War [time] => 2004-07-23 00:31:00 [hometext] => [bodytext] => Of Turkish coffee and drinking cigarettes
I can never have my fill
They speak to me of a part of my life
I can conjure up at will.

Of balconies once heavy with laughter,
Only a dying cyclamen showing
As checkpoints and sandbags drew new lines
Keeping the seeds of peace from growing.

Of hoards of children combing my hair
And rummaging through my bags,
Of latent violence in every heart,
Of darkness swallowing the light.

Of women hiding from their men
No cause for any concern,
Of staying on just one more hour,
Of notoriously giving in.

Of always being on the wrong side
When curfew sounded its silent toll ,
Of being both too young and too old
For my own private story to unfold.

Of early risers entering rooms with brooms
To sweep up the broken glass
Of believing each day was a chapter of life
In a book they hoped to outlast.

Of wanting to be somewhere else
To drink from a different cup,
Of taking in rain as comic relief
While dreaming of life on the top.

Of waking up one day understanding
The nightmare had come to a halt
As politicians drew handsome conclusions:
None of this was anyone’s fault. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 203 [topic] => 57 [informant] => Elena [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => war )

My War

Contributed by Elena on Friday, 23rd July 2004 @ 12:31:00 AM in AEST
Topic: war

Of Turkish coffee and drinking cigarettes
I can never have my fill
They speak to me of a part of my life
I can conjure up at will.

Of balconies once heavy with laughter,
Only a dying cyclamen showing
As checkpoints and sandbags drew new lines
Keeping the seeds of peace from growing.

Of hoards of children combing my hair
And rummaging through my bags,
Of latent violence in every heart,
Of darkness swallowing the light.

Of women hiding from their men
No cause for any concern,
Of staying on just one more hour,
Of notoriously giving in.

Of always being on the wrong side
When curfew sounded its silent toll ,
Of being both too young and too old
For my own private story to unfold.

Of early risers entering rooms with brooms
To sweep up the broken glass
Of believing each day was a chapter of life
In a book they hoped to outlast.

Of wanting to be somewhere else
To drink from a different cup,
Of taking in rain as comic relief
While dreaming of life on the top.

Of waking up one day understanding
The nightmare had come to a halt
As politicians drew handsome conclusions:
None of this was anyone’s fault.

Copyright Â© Elena ... [ 2004-07-23 00:31:00]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: My War (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Friday, 23rd July 2004 @ 01:02:37 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

None of them want the blame and yet they are all guilty. Not a war of the people. Just the politicians.

Would you kindly explain to me how you drink a cigarette? Just PM me. That fascinated me. Thanks so much.

Rita

Re: My War (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Wednesday, 28th July 2004 @ 03:12:32 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

You have a good grasp of humanity - and I appreciate your ability to express. Nice job

Re: My War (User Rating: 1 )
by buccaneer on Thursday, 14th October 2004 @ 03:41:17 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

lovely write this is really good.

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