A Screaming Flower

Does courage have colour; bold colour to paint a life
in lands, where holding a flower
can start a war?

What memory! Flowers screaming; blood red
in regions, where eight-year-olds
write testaments?

A Flower

process note: I promise, I had planned to write a happy poem. A poem possibly about love, summer romance or a lovely scent of a flower. Then a day before yesterday, I watched a heart-wrenching documentary about one of the countries ravaged by war. The poem was inspired by the Midweek Motif at Poets United.

30 Comments

  1. Madness in the world today. Madness in the corridors of power makes things worse! Caught in the cross-fire the innocents now conveniently termed as collateral damage.A real pity!

    Hank

  2. In a very real way, my sweet Khaya, this is still a happy poem: it’s about terrible things happening in the world, but it reminds this same world that we are watching, and doing… and that the madness won’t be aloud… poets and moms and flower will scream for justice… for peace.

  3. Khaya, this is a heart-wrenching poem and obviously one that was crying out to be written – sometimes we cannot control the words within us. The starkness of the red is almost violent, as is the contrast of the words next to each other, ‘Flowers screaming.’ This is particularly poignant now, thinking of all the young lives lost, going to a concert, the young fans screaming in joy one moment, the next in terror. A poem that touches me to the core.

  4. Sometimes, we must write what is closest to our recent experience and thoughts. This poem is not about the beauty of flowers but it is about the truth of war. Poets must write about truth.

    1. I agree Myrna, we must write about truth, even though it’s is not always comfortable. Maybe with our small attempts, we can make a contribution towards a better tomorrow. Thank you for reading!

  5. how very profound, yes indeed if we listen intently we can hear the flowers screaming for the innocents of war

    Happy Wednesday

    much love…

  6. So difficult! Flowers stand with life, though, as well as death. But I want them to protect the children. Your poem is a flower screaming.

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