Progress

Really?

Progress

Once ploughed fields

now filled with brick walls

and show home double-glazing.

 

Faded teak benches

in spring sunshine,

looking washed out and forlorn.

 

Old dreams wrung out

to dry in arid climes

like parched, cracked leather.

 

Lemons, twice sucked,

leave acidic,

vinegar flavours on the tongue.

 

As faded grass

fails to reignite

a once verdant summer pasture.

 

And empty, hollow hope

floats spectre like

above deep, damp graves.

 

As erstwhile lovers

perform a tug-of -war

over once shared tunes.

 

And in this warm, wet valley

now grows only

pungent fungus spores.

 

19/02/17

Reviews

[DIVYA]

Sometimes one sees things with such clarity and it all looks so ugly...Maybe its the ultimate reality...the fate of all things is to turn ugly.

And empty, hollow hope
floats spectre like
above deep, damp graves.

I am always numbed by the hopeless finality of graves. The highlighted verse takes my breath away.

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Thanks Divya. But I hope the finality of graves is seen as long into the future to be embraced.