~ once upon a time ~    [Author's Home Page!]
  524716   Poems Read   


[Poetry PoetryPoem] [Poetry Search] [Contact Us] [FREE Site] [Home] [Poets] [Login]


Time Check

Last roads

, oh know, just that, nowhere, this one brings me back. Where do these last roads begin and end, in our minds. Are we forever traveling down last roads as we imagine only for them to have no beginning or

, oh know, just that, nowhere, this one brings me back. Where do these last roads begin and end, in our minds. Are we forever traveling down last roads as we imagine only for them to have no beginning or

Out there



Halfpenny moment

28-06-1914

3 foot ruler

ABANDONED

About Tomorrow

ABSURB

Acceptance

ACCESSORY

ACROSS THE LINE

ADVERSITY OF VANITY

AIMLESS

ALTERNATIVE BELFAST

AMERICAN DIPLOMACY

AND ALL THAT THERE

AND NOW....A WORD FROM BRIAN

ANGELS

ANGELS CARING

ANGELS FALLING

ANNOYING SUCKER

ANYONE

AN INOFFENSIVE MAN

ART OF LIFE

ASKING A QUESTION

ASSUMPTION

AS WE CHOOSE

ATOMIC NUMBER (6}

ATTEN--SHUN

More Poetry >>

BOMBAY STREET BELFAST1969


          Human kindness dissipates in the flames of hate.


As loyalist thugs run to fire Bombay Street

           
Screaming out their primeval war cry,



NO SURRENDER





The devil ran free that fateful day in 69



as he demonized worker against worker,



Similar future, similar past.







Working men listening to politicians' rhetoric.



Fat cats regurgitating lies against catholics/nationalists.



Claiming they only desire an all Ireland shore.



Sun went down on that old sore in 1922.



Protestant, Catholic, all of them workers united.



Wouldn't do to let them know they can have dignity.





Burning homes makes the loyalists believe



They are winning the fight against



one man, one vote.



Never!





Run the line of Bombay Street.



Burn, burn raze the catholics homes to the ground.



Put those shoreland armoured cars on city streets.



Open fire, light up the night sky with tracer rounds.





They don't care as young Patrick Rooney is shot dead in bed



Nine years of age and the first of many children to die.



Does not matter, they  believe they are winning the fight.



That demonized war cry, No Surrender resonates  from politicans.





Loyalist triumphalism declaring this is our land,



Our six counties of Ulster.



We walk the line in the blood of innocents



As myraid  families flee their homes.



And so the forty years of the troubles began.







Six counties of Ulster shall never lie in the arms of the angels!








Vote for this poem

BOMBAY STREET BELFAST1969


Comments

  -



©2000 - 2022 ------- Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors


   Tell someone about this Poem.    blank

[ Control Panel ]
Last 100 Poems

Search over
400,000 poems!