Thursday, March 1, 2007

Iraq War Grief Daily Witness Day 31

Iraqi children look at wrecked cars at the site of a car bomb attack in Baghdad. Bombers slaughtered 18 Iraqi children playing football on Tuesday as a relentless bombing spree snuffed out dozens more lives and a US spy chief acknowledged that the crisis amounts to "civil war".
(AFP/Ahmad al-Rubaye)

Chansons Innocentes: I
by e. e. cummings

in Just-

spring when the world is mud-

luscious the little

lame balloonman

whistles far and wee

and eddieandbill come

running from marbles and

piracies and it's


when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer

old balloonman whistles

far and wee

and bettyandisbel come dancing

from hop-scotch and jump-rope and






balloonMan whistles





RubDMC said...

for peace

Maryscott OConnor said...

Light a candle AND curse the fucking darkness...

anniethena said...

For peace, I witness

olivia said...


musing graze said...


A Poem on the Underground Wall
by Paul Simon

The last train is nearly due,
The underground is closing soon,
And in the dark deserted station
Restless in anticipation,

A man waits in the shadows.

His restless eyes leap and scratch,
At all that they can touch or catch,
And hidden deep within his pocket,
Safe within his silent socket,

He holds a colored crayon.

Now from the tunnel's stony womb,
The carriage rides to meet the groom,
And opens wide and welcome doors,
But he hesitates, then withdraws

Deeper in the shadows.

And the train is gone suddenly
On wheels clicking silently
Like a gently tapping lita-ny,
And he holds his crayon rosary
Tighter in his hand.

Now from his pocket quick he flashes
The crayon on the wall he slashes,
Deep upon the advertising,
A single worded poem comprised
Of four letters.

And his heart is laughing, screaming, pounding,
The poem across the tracks rebounding
Shadowed by the exit light
His legs take their ascending flight

To seek the breast of darkness and be suckled by the night.

musing graze said...

Just noticed your new sidebar, RubDMC.

Suggestions for consideration:

Institute for War and Peace Reporting.

Committee to Protect Journalists

edsbrooklyn said...

For peace, and all our children.

Wasim said...

for peace and for what its worth, add my curse of the darkness to the rest

"But I Hear the Drops"

by Sharif S. Elmusa

My father had a resevoir
of tears.
They trickled down
But I heard the drops
from his voice
like drops
from a loosened tap
For thirty years
I heard them.

Wasim said...

that should be "But I Heard the Drops"