The silence of the lambs

The silence of the lambs

Poetry has gone into hiding
         poetry is nowhere to be seen
or it is masquerading
         under the guise of genteel verse
fit only for polite society
          : poetry has lost its cutting edge
has lost its nerve
         is anxious to please
and not to rock the boat
         or cause waves
or generate confusion
         or overtax the readers’ minds

Perhaps poetry is on vacation
         far away from the hue and cry
and the rage of savage war
         with its incessant barrel bombs
that kill clusters of innocents
         that send whole suburbs of hell
to kingdom come
         while poetry is rambling
through the hills admiring
         the lakes and the daffodils
recollecting
         at the end of an emotional day
with a cool pint in hand
         the tranquility of it all
the delicious peace and the quiet
         and the silence of the lambs

John Lyons

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