hope in dystopia

hope in dystopia …

fingers raw, bruised and sore,

masks stripped, truth tearing at the core,

feelings forgotten, discarded and rotten,

emptiness scratching at the bottom,

moments fungal, trapped in this desolate jungle,

scalding pride to ashes cold and humble,

dreams trashed, memories adrift, lashed,

wheels of lives callously slashed …

still, yet, always,

hope persists,

through life’s turns and twists,

hope never dies,

hope resists …

art from google

For Wendy Cope

For Wendy Cope.

(Inspired by her poems ‘Bloody Men’ and ‘Flowers’)

1.

I may not have brought you flowers.

I know I was always late.

You tolerated my moodiness,

and my ever-increasing weight.

2.

You said men were like buses,

and you had grown weary of waiting,

Of putting up with my quirks and my fusses,

though we barely knew we were dating.

3.

Ah, but we weathered the squalls;

Your patience has always been saintly.

And now that old age palls,our tiffs are recalled only faintly.

4.

We laugh at youth’s follies and know,

the beauty we had sought unaware;

It’s as wide as a calm river’s flow,and as timeless as our years of care.

___________

(Inspired by Wendy Cope’s poems ‘Bloody Men’ and ‘Flowers’)