Two villages and an inexperienced charity.


Unwell

The well was dug
And the village saw celebration
Like no other:
The donation
From the somewherefar
Bought the skill
So that they could now,
Drink their fill.

The night sang,
But the morning after,
Saw them drowned in sorrow
With no laughter raft to
Rescue them
From the sight
Of the well destroyed,
And the return to the plight
Of miles to trek
To collect a head-held can
Of unfit
For any man.

The disaster
Had not been nature's doing;
The village next door's jealousy
Had been brewing
Ever since hearing the news
That good luck
Had, on their neighbours,
Struck.

That night,
Their overwhelm
Boarded their ship
And took the helm:
Steering destruction
And havoc towards
One of charity's
Dearest rewards.

Had they been told
That their village was to be next,
Perhaps they'd not have acted
So violently, so vexed.

Finished: 13:05, Mon. 26/02/2007.




Poetry by Mark J. Wood
Read 772 times
Written on 2007-02-26 at 14:16

Tags Communication 

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


shar
wonderful! i don't know y but i pictured an indian village for this poem. Felt like you really got their emotions, joy, jealousy, revenge, sorrow....great stuff Mark! :)
2007-02-27