'For Estela'

Here on this knife-edge 

I have waited for thirty eight years

those first days were darkness

those first dreams were crimson

stains from murderous hands 

I am the madwoman who

asks too many questions

unpicking a tapestry of lies

its holes shedding light on 

the faces of the disappeared 

like stars they illuminate 

the seas the rivers the streets

re-tracing the last days of our kin  

we sisters of Plaza de Mayo 

we circle we gather in prayer   

Now that I've found you 

I step back from the edge

I can sleep easier now  

I know in you she lives on.

Argentinian Grandmother reunites with grandson.

©Bryn Hyfrd.

Poetry Blog :Waveattheworld.blogspot.com)
Bryn writes poetry short stories and plays. Reads monthly at poetry open mic at 'Beyond Words ' Gypsy Hill Tavern ' .

Collision

I feel the frisson

of a collision

And dreamt it coming

And dreamt it coming

Between the hum of the humble-bee

and the blind yelp of the barcode bleep

Between the thumb and the palm oil plains

and the deforestation rains

Between the icecaps and the rising seas

and the fuel moguls mendacity

Between their war torn suppliers 

and the stench of the famine pyres

Between the stained sheets of media

cooperations and politicians

What can the poor do but fight one another

What will the rich do but run higher for cover

Can the young teach us a better way ?

Come the day which of us will have the final say ?

With the growl of the arching waves

With the scowl of the heavy skies

I dreamt it coming

I dreamt it coming

A collision

A collision.

©Bryn Hyfrd

Climate change is here now

I juggle poetry, children and work, attempting to keep most of the balls in the air most of the time.

http://waveattheworld.blogspot.co.uk/

Slaves at Christmas

Said the master to his servants

'You must feed her with a silver spoon

And she will sing at my command

And sang she did, 

a lonely nightingale

in a golden cage 

Who is master, who is slave 

Is it the master, the servants or the nightingale ?

A starving lioness kills and feeds her 

weakest cub to her other cubs

Is it the lioness, the cubs, or nature

Who is master, who is slave ?

She laces the babies milk with vodka

A docile baby makes begging easier

Is it the mother, baby, or the traffickers

Who is master, who is slave ?

340 times she applies, gets no replies

Can she sink any lower, when there's 

fewer jobs than people

Is it the woman, or economy

Who is master, who is slave ?

The old man's stays cold in December

His arrears, a mountain too high to climb

Is it the man, the utilities or free trade

Who is the master, who is the slave ?

His allies are cooperation's and banks

Not the voters who put him there without thanks

Is it the m.p., the banks, or the voters

Who is master, who is the slave ?

Taxation serves the rich at the expense of the poor

Polarities widening more and more

Santa cannot feed his reindeer 

Eats at the foodbank

Buys gifts at Poundland 

As we rape our planet of its finite resources

Are we now the slaves of our own master plan ?

©Bryn Hyfrd

Charities condemn Ian Duncan Smith for Foodbank Snub