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A LAMENT FOR CHILDHOOD

 

 

Small frightened faces,

Iron and Rust,

sharp smell of anger,

Gunflash and Dust.

Small frightened faces,

sharp smell of fear,

cries of the wounded

cries of the dying,

Iron and Rust

Iron and Rust.

Call for their loved ones

caught up in the rush,

small moonlit faces

who can they trust,

Gunflash and Dust

Gunflash and Dust.

Be still and be silent

NO! NO! mustn't cry

crawl under the rubble

drones in the sky.

Where is their childhood

Where is the love,

be still and be silent

bombers above.

Iron and Rust

Iron and Rust

who can they trust.

Cringe in the shadows,

peer through the cracks,

small frightened faces

caught up in gunflash.

Where is their childhood

where is the care,

Small frightened faces

there's snipers out there.

Gunflash and Dust.

Gunflsh and Dust,

 

they live out their childhood

 

                                          'neath Iron and Rust

 

                                                            Gunflash and Dust.

                   

◄ MEMORIES OF BOLTON

Comments

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Flyntland

Mon 24th Mar 2025 20:09

RBK, Tom D. Hugh, Stephen G., and Stephen A. Thank you for reading and liking, I find it very encouraging.

Aisha, Holden, Helene, and Manish thank you also for pressing the 'like' button it means a lot to me.

Rolph, Thank you for your thoughtful comment, This poem was written for a different war but all wars have the same effect on children.

I saw a news item on TV. some time ago that touched briefly on a small group of young children who were diving for safety into a small gap under a concrete slab, metal sheets, and twisted wire. Their faces registered distrust and fear and it was gut-wrenching. They will never be children again.

Rolph David

Sun 23rd Mar 2025 16:48

Dear Flyntland,
The lines of your poem are deeply moving and powerful. The way you capture the innocence of childhood shattered by war is both haunting and touching. The repeated imagery of "small frightened faces" alongside "Iron and Rust" creates a chilling sense of vulnerability that stays with the reader. I was especially struck by the sensory details—like the "sharp smell of anger" and "cries of the wounded"—which immerse you in the terror these children experience. The question, "Where is their childhood?" echoes throughout, a reminder of the innocence lost to violence. Your words truly convey the heartbreaking reality of children caught in the devastation of war, and I admire how you bring attention to their pain and loss with such raw emotion. Unfortunately, this is again part of everyday life for many children in this world. Stupid mankind!
Take care,
kind regards,
Rolph

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