No space for kindness?

I am continuing my thinking about poetic forms,The limerick is popular with most people even those who are afraid of poetry in general apart from it n,The Ancient Mariner etc
Now I do not pre-think a poem.I don’t know much about what will emerge.Sometimes a phrase like,The Museum of my heart,comes into my mind and I am stimulated to write around that.My first poem on my first blog was free verse.I had been outside in snow and the streetlights gave a strange orange glow on the whiteness..also the air smelled different as I looked at the dark sky and the snowflakes


Too old for cold,I stand, now ,against the hedge,
Watching the snowflakes in the glare of neon street lights.
Darkness has come early,and I think of country uplands and huddled sheep.
On Salisbury Plain,shepherds watched their flocks
Just as in Bethlehem two thousand years before,
And then,exactly when?
“Between the wars”,it stopped. Now we know there is no “Between the wars”.
And who decided
To cull the sheep and shepherds and the space for kindness ?
Now that same Plain still exists,but banned
And closed to human-kind,
For bombs ,not wombs
Nor for birth of lamb ,nor gypsy child ,nor Saviour
Where would He go today

I had no form in my mind when I was writing nor did I know it was going to be about whether in the world we have created there is any space for true creativity….
So I did not try to make into a sonnet or any other type of poem

Maybe it found its own form? It evokes for me the whole scene I saw

I welcome comments and criticism

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