As the weekend’s protest thread continues, this poem looks at what we count — and what we choose not to.
VJ’s article on holding to a deeper “why” nudged me toward this poem — a poignant protest shaped by questions of time, land, and what we risk by looking away. Her story is below—the spark behind this poem. >> Having a Why – One Woman’s Quest
Also, over at Weekly Prompts, the Weekend Challenge is the word Invasive. To visit their fabulous site, please click >> Here
Handless Watchbands, or Who’s Counting
How many grains of sand are left in the ancient hourglass? Why are the Holy grasslands a desert full of misguided missiles and handless watch bands?
How many missiles do the leaders in Versailles have to count before the amount is called genocide?
For what we cannot look away from, let the song bear witness.
Sometimes poems arrive in clusters, even when we don’t plan them. After posting A Fistful of Sand (CHW), another anti‑war piece surfaced, and Beyond the Debris continued that same uneasy thread … It seems I’ve unintentionally written a small trilogy — each poem looking at conflict from a different angle, each one carrying its own weight. Tonight’s piece steps further into the aftermath, where the smoke settles, and the world tries to breathe again.
Solar Isosceles and More Debris
From behind the bushes and trees, crows crash through the branches and leaves.
And flee toward our solar Isosceles, like blind bats that can now see beyond the world’s charred canopy –
a toxic cloud of wartime debris and the smouldering embers of expendable draftees.
There is a clown, with an apricot crown under his dressing gown, who’s swinging upside down on the outskirts of town
The false king is insane, with a selfish brain. He’s inhumane, and greed is his game.
Without shame his aim is to blame anyone whose name is not on his “gravy-train.”
And to close, here’s a song that carries the same simmering energy — a little theatrical, a little exasperated, and perfectly tuned to the mood of this piece.
Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in May 2023) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears as the opening poem in Chapter 8, War: A Waste of Time
“And I have carried on this war. Though no one wins an endless fight. I have claimed that God has guided me. And killed to prove I’m right.” Lyrics from Damien Rice’s song, “What if I’m wrong.”
Between Lines, Who Holds the Power
Do you see – a man walking on water? Did you see – his feet were bleeding? Do you read – the missing scriptures? Did you read – your own family tree? Do you hear, speechless angels, singing? Did you hear – the songbirds crying?
Do you feel – the erased wars calling? Did you feel – the hard rains falling? Do you know – the ones who are lying? Did you know, the refugees are dying?
“What If I’m Wrong”, Lyrics, by Damien Rice
I could wrestle with tomorrow Until tomorrow’s in the past Because I have torn apart what’s beautiful To prove that nothing lasts I have stayed locked behind these doors To show there’s no way out I got lost within the space between The question and the doubt I have built a wall between
What I believed and what is true I have sacrificed the love I had For power over you
I have convicted those who disagree And walked over the weak I have placed a gun within the mouth Of those who dared to speak
And on an ordinary day In an ordinary way I have crushed the minds of children With extraordinary shame
And I have carried on this war Though no one wins an endless fight I have claimed that God has guided me And killed to prove I’m right
What if I’m wrong What if I’m wrong What if I’m wrong What if I’m wrong
Is this soul worth saving at all? Cause if I lose my wings then surely I must fall And the gods prayed to the gods they made
We could wrestle with tomorrow until tomorrow’s in the past We could tear apart what’s beautiful To prove that nothing lasts
We could stay locked behind the doors To show there’s no way out We could get lost within the space between The question and the doubt
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 