Poets And Storytellers United has invited us to share poetry or prose which includes the following phrase: “the world is burning, but…”
My response to the prompt:
The baby with soiled cheeks
Crying amidst a heap of bloody corpses
Smoke billowing in the background
Rising up to a hazy, listless sky
A broken wall helplessly guarding
A roof-less house... bombed
It's doors and windows unhinged
A broken cage ... lies tilted on
A haphazard pile of stones
On barren, dusty grounds once a park
Where children played and romped
Mother's walked their babies happily
Men jogged and boys stole shy glances
With rosy cheeked girls joyfully young
The anchor cries hoarse ...
Over the 'mindless pillage and plunder..."
Oh! No!! Not again....
I pick up the remote and flick channels
A girl with a seductive smile and inviting eyes
Her anorexic waist gyrates to a raunchy song
Is the world really burning ?
Elsewhere....
As long as the sequins of her swirling skirt Glow....For me.....Perhaps no........
