The love birds [War poetry]


Brinda Runghsawmee introduces her poem.

I am from the island of Mauritius, near the big island Madagascar in the Indian Ocean. Just would like peace between Israel and Palestine-Gaza and terrorism will die. What we see on the media is not really the truth. There are hearts that beat behind uniforms. Brainwashed militants or numbed soldiers in solitude do think about buried precious moments from their lives: mums, a dear dog or a fragile bird.

The love birds

One bird is on shrapnel

In Israel

The other one is outside

A blasted tunnel

In Gaza


There is fear

In the eyes

She has always

Been at his side

He has always

Been at her side


The soldier about to launch

A rocket towards Gaza

Has a thought

About his mum

A tear trickles down

His grimy face

When he sees the downcast bird

All white with that lost look

His heart melts


He leaves the rocket

Picks her up

She does not struggle

He puts her inside

His bullet-proof clothes

In a large inside pocket


The Hamas militant

Aims his foreign missile

Against Israel’s border town

Full of olive trees

Swinging music in the gun-fire sky

Which cannot hide the blueness of lofty joy

Where arms do not exist


He hears little sad sounds

He turns round

Sees the white bird

With the lost look

His heart melts

He thinks of his mum

Dead-torn by an Israeli missile


He leaves gun and missile

Goes to the struggling bird

Lowers him inside his soldier’s clothes

Not far from his heart


He turns his back to war

He wants to find his love

He runs, hides towards

The southern border

Where Gaza and Israel meet

To kill


He is a wanted man

In Gaza

A target man

for Israel


The Israeli soldier

Is disturbed by the gentle movements

Inside his pocket

He has not yet fired the rocket

He wants to reunite her

With her beloved


He leaves his post

Behind the safety of olive groves

Runs where she leads him

Towards the desert


It is night

The darkness is disturbed

By war

The animals have fled

Trees and flowers

Have failed to blossom


They almost collide in each other

By the light of war

They see each other’s face

A feeling of ancient hatred

Rises within the folds of their souls

But the stirring within blasts it


The hands of war gently set them free

The lovebirds are reunited

On this desert soil


Two enemies understand


As bombs

And shots continue

To mark the sky

With pain

And hearts

With grief

Brinda Runghsawmee

It kept the rain from Emile’s eyes

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When the weather turns out wet
Emile has to wear a hat
Mary bought it in a Sale
Making sure it was for males.

Yellow with two cotton ties
It keeps the rain from Emile’s eyes
Mary has her own hat too
Bought in Orford, it is blue

Emile as he is a cat
Up a tree does love to sit
But when he’s leaping tree to tree
With his rain hat , he can’t see.

Mary said, “well stay indoors
You can help me with the chores
I’ll make a harness with a cart
You can carry soap.dear heart.”

“Otherwise go visit Anne
Eat the curry in her pan
Scratch her doormat,sniff for mice
Eat her cake and churn her rice”

I think I saw Stan on the stairs
It’s that velvet coat he wears
I may go and have a rest
I can lean upon his chest

Shall we visit him tonight?
Emile,dear, you must not bite
If he is a spirit now
You may only give a bow

Annie came in looking flushed
By the milkman she was kissed
One more man and she will die
Mary says she needs meat pie

Then the ladies make some tea
Gossip till their minds are free
Mary wants to write a book
If dear Anne will learn to cook

Stan is hiding in the coats
He is checking what they write
Then an angel flies to him
God wants enemies within

So practise love and hope and faith
Even though you have no grace
Say God is dead but do not taunt
Jesus preaching on the Mount

Be you friend or be you foe
Through a needle’s eye we go
See, you’re full of love and grace
Now go home and wash your face

The tiniest bird

Pamianthe-peruviana_2020-1I wanted to flee to the mountains
His image would not  leave  me alone
I hid in a cave as  a tempest raved
The wind whistled into my bones

After the storm there was fire
The fire that burns into the soul
I stood as the  flames flickered over
The Cave was  fit only for ghouls

With  my candle I looked at the shadows
I wandered about  like a ghost
I abandoned my  thoughts and my writing
He  spoke to
 me in the  deep dark

Only when all  good’s been taken
When despair is too happy a word
The spirit flies over the water
On the wings of the tiniest bird


I wish I were in Woolworths,Colwyn bay

I wish i were in Woolworths Colwyn bay

A shilling in my pocket that will pay.

Mini wooden counters filled with sweets

House plants, needles children’s toys compete.

It’s pouring rain but we don’t mind alot

It’s summer but we wear our winter coats

I don’t miss the vultures in the zoo.

Chained to rocks they say for me and you.

I saw their fear and loathing in their eyes.

I cannot recollect their fearsome cries.

The North Wales mountain zoo a cruel disgrace.

Would you put a cockroach in this play?

I’d rather be in Woolworths in the rain

I can still recall the vultures’ pain

How to cope with anxiety about getting “back to normal” – Coronavirus – Every Mind Matters – NHS

Even positive change can lead to anxiety, and it can take time to readjust to things we have not done for a while.

Feelings of anxiety are likely to pass with time as we get used to the “new normal” but it’s important to do what we can to take care of our mental health.

An Interview With Adam Phillips

You see, I think it’s more important to find out what really matters to you than to be good at something.You see, I think it’s more important to find out what really matters to you than to be good at something.

You don’t do e-mail, you don’t have a cell phone, or anything related to the world of technology?

AP: Because I want less communication, not more. And because I feel like I don’t want to be in easy contact with lots of people I don’t know. I’m not boasting about this but I’m not excited by the World Wide Web, if you see what I mean. I don’t feel like I want many, many more contacts

Never leave me

Since ce you loved and imitated me

Two students sharing at the university

Without you I won’t feel like anyone

To whom shall I turn when you are gone?

When you’re the one who shared my infant bed

When you’re the one who treasured what I said

When you’re the one I soothed in the dark night

When you are gone there can be no more light

When the moment comes,I must believe

For trees shall weep their leaves as if bereaved

Then will my sister heart with pity heave.

Oh do not do not ,do not ,do not leave

Dave mends a chair


cat2 alone
cats and newspapers

Although Stan was 102, he still rode his bike locally  in the summer time.He was out in the garden pumping up the tires before  going off to the Library.Suddenly his neighbour Annie appeared at the gate, without him hearing her feet  tapping on the path of red brick;she was bedecked in finest Scottish tweed with a long pendant on a solid 22 carat gold chain swinging nonchalantly from her neck, with a matching ring attached mysteriously to her upper lip.

“Who’re you, the Lady Mayoress” he joked.
Where’s Mary?” she pointedly whispered.
”She’s  with her widowed sister Joan up  in Scotland ” Stan admitted nervously, unsure of her reactions.
”Joan, that’s not a very Scottish name!” Annie joked.” Anyway how about we sit down here on this bench for a moment”.She pulled him vigorously towards her.

Stan responded regretfully
“I’m afraid I can’t stop.I have all these books overdue and the library shuts in 15 minutes
.”Don’t worry, sweetheart”, she cried un-contemptuously.”I’ll pay all your fines.I’ve just come into loads  and loads of money.”
“Oh, how’s angel” Stan murmured. “I  shot Bert.If you help me to get rid of the evidence, I’ll share the loot with you.”

Dotty cats

At the funeral, Annie was dressed in a beautiful dark brown suit  with a black trim from Jaeger.She went around the room making sure everyone had enough food and drink.As she leaned over towards Stan her heavy gold locket, inside which was hidden the bullet that killed Bert, swung over and hit Stan a glancing blow on the temple.
Stan fell to the ground
.”Do you think we should ring 999?” someone asked sarcastically.Within minutes, paramedics arrived.
“So, is it that chair again?” they clamoured.
”Yes, this foolish old man fell over and the leg came off my  brand new antique chair.I’ve only had it a few days and it’s not insured.”

“Did anyone ever tell you, your eyes are like deep pools in the Saragossa Sea?”  Dave, the paramedic whispered into her right ear.
“Have you still not finished that Creative Writing Course?” Annie shouted.””I’m getting tired of you admiring my eyes.What about my nose?””

“Has anyone ever told you, your nose is the shortest they’ve ever seen?”

“That’s a bit boring” Annie retorted.
”Yeah, maybe I should change to Art,” he ruefully moaned.”I love the way your deep blue and turquoise eye shadow is melting around your eyes and running down the sides of your nose.”
“Hurry up and fix my chair, and while you’re about it, you may as well take Stan down to A and E for a head X-ray.”
Glancing furtively at Annie in her Jaeger suit with carefully contrasting deep coral blouse and opaque teal blue 80 denier tights with 6 inch stiletto heels to complete the outfit, not to mention her raspberry coloured bra which clashed violently with the coral blouse [which alas was more transparent than she realised], he picked up a hammer and began,excitedly,to mend the broken chair.
”This is what life is all about, my boy” he thought.One day I will  be just where I should be.Right here.With her,alone!

Little did he know the true tale, that Annie had murdered her husband merely because she felt very  bored.
Boredom is dangerous.If you are affected why not go out and look at some hats? Why not take up drawing. is now online

Microsoft Paint