The Poetry Of.
Deborah Rey.............................................
THE VIOLIN THAT ONCE
The violin that once through Tara's hall
The soul of peace did shed,
Now sees a child roam Tara's halls,
In search of what once she had.
So cries the pain of former days,
So bleeds the heart each day
For those that gave their tend'rest love
But died; far, far away.
No longer music will be played
The violin no more swells,
The chord of tears that breaks the night
A tale of horror tells.
And peace the child but seldom knows,
The only song she gives,
Is one that tells what once she knew,
To show that still she lives.
Reverse Ohboyohboyohboy
He, for a long time, hasn't kissed my neck and
doesn't whisper in my ears.
His brutal touch leaves blue marks on my wrists,
his shouted wake up, snored good night
colour my days and nights a solid grey.
His angry look replays to me that
saggy-boobed and wrinkly-faced,
unhappy, lonely all the time,
but above all that, too old -
he hates the sight of me.
Ohboyohboyohboy,
I suppose he only loves my loot.
Take Ten
A boot. Black leather. The door kicked in.
A gloved hand. Black leather. Wham! Broken glass.
The sound of angry voices makes her run, then turn and fall.
Hiding in the undergrowth she watches the red blaze.
Memories of her house will be in the ashes of tomorrow.
The shrill tone of a whistle tells her they will soon be gone;
guns, angry shouts, dogs, boots, black leather and all.
She's been lucky once again, because for some odd reason,
out of sheer luck perhaps, they have not taken note of her
