I used to be nice
I composed this wish
Never noticed the clichés
I meant no vice:
may you go from strength to strength
may you soar over every sapping strain
may you float on the cushion of your dreams
until your sun sleeps and acorns reach maturity.
On 24th December 2005 – I self-published that bold stanza on my blog. Spot the phrase that doesn’t feel like a cliché to you …
Lost on Bastille Day
‘Let them eat heads
and suck sockets dry
before they answer “Why”‘.
I’ve lost my count of children
– the adults never counted –
lost to the flags of war.
It’s said that ten valuable ones
were crushed on Thursday night
promenading where the English played.
Others say Fallujah girls and boys
were incinerated over falafels
and their fathers cried for ever.
If there are any grandchildren awaiting birth
they’ll be primed like birds of prey
to strike without warning.
Will you count the loss for us?