Popular Posts

My Blog List

  • LIFE OF A POET - PAUL SCRIBBLES - *Buckle up, kids, for this feature is going to leave you breathless. Paul Scribbles, who writes at his blog of the same name, is a new Toad at our sister s...
    20 hours ago
  • Testament - Richard Fleming - Forget the florid words and speak in language, commonplace, of what our brief connection made of us, our lives, how we were changed. As for myself, I am enh...
    2 days ago
  • Lost in Time - I smiled this morning as I watched Roy, my only son, lope down the drive, his grandfather's jaw, laughing dark eyes and hair receding already at thirty-six...
    2 days ago
  • Rainy September - I'll survive Rainy September in Japan A can of cold coffee Warming up in my pocket
    3 days ago
  • KIM'S GAME - *"Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold"* *W B Yeats* We live in alarming times. Not since the Cuban Missile crisis of 1962 have I been quite so aware...
    3 days ago
  • The Future is Imminent (acrostic) - The brass key turns tightening the spring How the second hand races, chasing dates Evenly stitching together the edges of time: Facing its face, no smile, n...
    6 days ago
  • Fifty Shots Of Whiskey - I'm pissed and i am pissed off But i ain't going down Many think that one more drink This man is gonna drown I'm tanked up like a fucking tank, ready for ...
    1 week ago
  • Transformed - *Transformed* *I hold on in my sleep* *clenched fists* *awakening with aching fingers* *empty hands...* *"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts," * *I think to ...
    1 week ago
  • Under the Weather - On the radio today, there was a discussion about conversation starters with strangers. The 'expert' said that people in the UK often talk about the weather...
    2 weeks ago
  • This Job, Not That Job - *What I'm reading: The Trouble with Goats and Sheep by Joanna Cannon* *What I'm listening to: Incomplete by James Bay* Isn't it fun to spend your birthday ...
    1 year ago
  • So Much Green - In the past, I have always visited Horizon in the South African winter, when the reserve is a tapestry of browns, interspersed with vivid splashes of gre...
    1 year ago
  • ... gloriously exciting! - There is something gloriously exciting about anticipating ones next Chad assignment, sitting in the back of the relative comfort of seat 34J, the the dron...
    3 years ago
  • Time-Out - Every now and again in life we come across a bump or hurdle. It can come in our relationships, our finances or as in my case, health. Right now I've been...
    3 years ago
  • thumbs up - it was a battle. looking back i don't think we ever had a chance, but you don't just give up on a young man in the prime of his life. we had to try. he ...
    3 years ago

Tuesday, 11 February 2014

Puška


I once stood in a market place surrounded by people, who had just fled a nearby village. They carried whatever they had been able to grab before they had been forced from burning homes, they were almost all women and children.

I was part of a small team and we were very much on our own. After a while things got quite unpleasant and we were forced to withdraw. The strange thing about that day is that the events which inspired the following poem where the most pleasant, yet harrowing, part of that day.

I hope you like the poem.

Puška*

They stand in front of me
wide hollow eyes search my soul.
Grubby faces, ragged clothes, empty eyes.
Itchy fingers point,
the word "puška" comes again.
In my hands it's a tool of the trade;
yet their young eyes have seen,
their young ears have heard
and their, so very young lives, have lost.
"Puška"
I reached into my pocket
pulled out marbles and squatted.
There in the dust we played.
That day I lost a few marbles,
learned the word "puška"
and the hollow eyes still haunt me.

John Carré Buchanan
10 February 2014

* Puška - Rifle

6 comments:

  1. Bosnia? when I did my teacher training, one of the schools I trained in was a downtown school in which there were a lot of refugees from Bosnia Herzogovinia. I remember one of these teenage girls saying to another girl, born and raised in Vancouver, she couldn't believe she had never seen someone killed in front of her or watched someone die. That was a horrible conflict and so pointless, as indeed most such things are. Lovely poem by the way. A touching reminder of what is lost in war, and who is most hurt by it. You should consider it for the contest this month!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Andy,Thank you. Yes, it was Bosnia. The children's fascination with our rifles was what hit me, perhaps it was that the SA80 looked so space age (or plasticky) when compared with the AK. Everywhere we went children wanted to look at it.
      As for the schools, I have lived in deserted school houses during a number of conflicts, education and innocence always seems to be amoung the first casualties of war.
      I'm glad you like the poem, as The judge I can't enter the Poem on a Photo Competition, perhaps we will have to have a guest judge some time.

      Delete
  2. Great poem John, really liked this one, very tense

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ian, thank you, I'm glad you liked it.

      Delete
  3. Well done John. As usual you tell the story so well.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Janet, your comment is very much appreciated.

      Delete

I really appreciate constructive feedback. If you are able to comment it would be most grateful.