Come Back

What if I stared, really stared, willed you

and you opened up your eyes and said:

Hey don’t you cry its okay its okay,

I’m not dead, I’m just sleeping.

What if I held onto you, held you tight

and begged you please to come back

and you breathed again, took hold of me,

gently loved me and kissed me, saying:

Hey, don’t worry; my heart is yours for the forever of keeping.

What if I said I’m sorry, I never ever meant to hurt you. 

What if I said my words were cruel idle threats

and that I would never ever leave you? 

Would you come back?

What if I said I can’t live without you,

would you doubt me?   Please don’t doubt me. 

You’re all I am or ever was and I need you, need you back. 

I can’t imagine living this life without you.

What if I stared, really stared

and you opened up your eyes and said:

Hey don’t you cry its okay its okay,

I’m not dead, I’m just sleeping.

Please please open your eyes,

please come back to me for

I can’t imagine my life without you...
Please please please just open your eyes.

Anna :o]

For Susan’s 'What If' prompt at Poets United – cheers for the inspiration Susan.

Image:  Courtesy of  Wikimedia Commons

Author:  Adam Jones

Idyllic

Buck yourself up you say granddad, the worlds a wonderful place if you just look for it.  I’d love to be as delusional as you are granddad, still as innocent as the day you were born, aren’t ya. 

Okay, okay, yes where we are right now, this very spot, takes my breath away, fills me up, it is truly beautiful, I love being here.  (And I do love you.)

This meadow where we sit, look at it look at it, look how beautiful it is.  The flowers!  The flowers! Oh so beautifully lovely! But what you don’t see granddad is the battle beneath, the never ending battle between predator and prey.  Little tiny life forms forever at war.  Insect eats insect.  Bird eats insect, small mammals eat insect.  Birds of prey eat small birds and small mammals, big mammals eat little mammals; it just goes on and on.

Look over there granddad, the lambs – well sheep really – nibbling at the grass on yonder hill, how idyllic a scene.  But you must realise they are not there to make the world look pretty.  They will end up on your plate granddad, we are their predator, they are our prey.  Yes I know you’ve never killed one – we leave that to someone else, someone else in some distant abattoir.  The workers there must become immune to death or relish it, killing as cruelly as they can.  I wouldn’t like to be them.

You think I’m a pessimist granddad – well I guess I am, maybe a realist?  Do I think this world a wonderful place?  Overall, no.  But now and again wonderful things do happen here and I do love life.  There are some beautiful things here granddad, including you, beauty breathes from you, straight from that wonderful mind of yours.  So right now, this very minute, the world is indeed beautiful, a wonderful place to be. 

Thanks granddad.

Anna :o]

Sumana’s prompt today (at Poets United) is that of The World Is A Beautiful Place, this being the first line and title of a wonderful poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti.  

Above is my response to same, this written as prose.

Cheers Sumana!

Image:  Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Author:  Jonathan Billinger

Flag

There is no flag fluttering overhead, no patriotic symbol ‘neath which we, hand on heart, pledge allegiance.  We are just us. Nevertheless our flag marks out who we are, from whence we came or if new citizens, where we now reside.

Red white & blue the Union Flag (or Jack), a flag to signify the union of England and Scotland in 1606.  (Sadly, in this divided world of ours, ?some ?many in Scotland now wish independence.)  The Union flag bears many a stain of the blood of others, has fluttered over horrors I cannot even imagine.  I would suggest that the flags of many (most?) nations share similar shameful histories, these histories being written even now.

Am I proud to be British, English – I think I am.  If not quite proud, seeing the strife that scars the world today – I am glad I am.  I feel safe here, mostly safe, relatively safe, fearful sometimes perhaps. I think (perhaps viewing through rose-tinted glasses) that the silent majority of us Brits are okay as people.  Am I proud to be British, English – probably.  Am I proud to be human – definitely not.

Flags flutter madly,

earth signals in semaphore –

winter is coming

Anna :o]

Written for Susan’s prompt at Poets United  where she asks us to write of National Flag(s).  My response a bit of doom and gloom perhaps, but sadly, this is how I view this world of ours at present. 

Image:  Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Author:  Original flag by Acts of Union 1800 SVG recreation by User:Zscout370