Turning AwaySo delicately lovely is this morning, with its
Still-cool, cloudless sky, its gentle breeze,
The freshly rain-washed trees, it seems almost
A tragedy to glance away to read the news,
And be reminded that a sort of Midas
Of the chamber pot is hard at work in Washington,
His touch turning all things to shit. That children
Cry, alone, in jails, and men and women, nearly
Starving, look up, and are blown to bits.
The ocean's filled with plastic now. The planet
Cooks while those who profit from its warming
Say all's well. A million people throng the streets
To protest an injustice, to be met, not by those
They elected, but by truncheon-wielding thugs
And bullets. Will the day be ruined? No!
I close the screen which shows the horrors of those
Other worlds, and choose, instead, to celebrate
The beauty of my own.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 97 times
Written on 2019-06-12 at 19:21
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email