ethnic cleansing is nothing new. the highlands of scotland witnessed this crime on humanity from 1750 onwards.


Clearing

I look into a breathless man's cold plumes of air
bellowing out from his flared crimson nostrils,
behind which burn tears of a fire
never, ever, to be extinguished
until the clear new light that mothers
each young morning remains forever
inside heavens' gate, immaculate.
Tortures fold his gruesome face
exclaiming another Redcoat slaughter,
in a dark Novembers' rhetoric
loss sets in for winter.
A family sleeps the sleep of a murdered slumber
to awaken in the ancestral springtime
of Alba's unforgotten.




Poetry by macpherson
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Written on 2005-09-29 at 15:22

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Teala
This poem flows well. I like it.
2005-10-12


chasingtheday The PoetBay support member heart!
this is a good piece - i can't say i know much on this subject really, other than the times of recent shown on the news. history has never really been a great interest of mine. i like the language you use here though, the poem flows well.


please take the time to visit others who post work here?
2005-09-29