Coronation Day 2nd June 1953

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Thundering and lightning crackled without warning in clear blue skies

the silenced old gods and wise men left only indentations, remembrances

 

Of psalms and words in the places they’d once stood in so many guises.

In the tall aspen trees above the school yard Jackdaws turned into blackness

 

 

©RobCullen2017

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Sarajevo

 

 

Love song to Sarajevo.

A love song should be sung with joy not shame

Yes a love song should be sung with joy

But it is with shame that I write

A love song to Sarajevo.

 

I hear of the deaths and the blood spilled

And the killing goes on and on and on

And it is with shame that I write

A love song to Garasda.

 

I heard a Muslim child cry

Rescued but leaving her mother behind

And it is with shame that I write

A love song to Mostar.

 

I heard from the quietness of our radio

A man cry for his Serb sister, lost and unheard

And it is with shame that I write

A love song to Belgrade.

 

A Serb speaks of his anger that the world

Has simply turned away and no longer listens

And it is with shame that I write

A love song to Tuzla.

 

A doctor speaks of the death of the wounded

A hospital bombed and riddled by sniper fire

And it is with shame that I write

A love song to the people.

 

Love songs should be sung with joy

But my heart is filled with pain.

 

 

Thoughts on Rimbaud

Reading once again through my copy of A season in hell and The Drunken Boat first published New Directions 1961.

“In his delirium  Rimbaud thought always of Harar. Before he died on November 10, 1891 , he asked that a legacy of three thousand francs be sent his servant Djami in Harar.”

I bought Ethiopian coffee today, tasted and that aftertaste that could only be Ethiopia and remembered again Arthur. There is much  that I have forotten.