Ode To Badhdad

Rubble lies in waste of war torn Iraq,

shattered faces filled the streets of Baghdad,

Children now play in the piles of rubble,

the sounds of war, broken their ‘peace bubble’.

Scurrying through bricks and mortar melted in tar,

for treasures that may take them both near and far,

Like the big red wagon with its busted wheels,

to a land of freedom their spirit yields.

At alas this is their homeland which for many holds pride,

hidden in the rubble for their mothers they cry,

This is the homeland which now holds their papas,

as the play in the rubble now lit by the stars.

Perhaps the wheels of the wagon can be amends,

and the works of their family toils to market they can send.

Debbie Chilton © Copyright 2013

Ode To Badhdad

Rubble lies in waste of war torn Iraq,

shattered faces filled the streets of Baghdad,

Children now play in the piles of rubble,

the sounds of war, broken their ‘peace bubble’.

Scurrying through bricks and mortar melted in tar,

for treasures that may take them both near and far,

Like the big red wagon with its busted wheels,

to a land of freedom their spirit yields.

At alas this is their homeland which for many holds pride,

hidden in the rubble for their mothers they cry,

This is the homeland which now holds their papas,

as the play in the rubble now lit by the stars.

Perhaps the wheels of the wagon can be amends,

and the works of their family toils to market they can send.

Debbie Chilton © Copyright 2013

Too much rain they cried!

Desperate for rain we held over breath,

Hopeful as dark clouds gathered in the skies,

As the grey clouds burst their tears,

Too much rain, too much rain we cried.

No! Surely not again!

No not so soon! Not so soon!

But they were on our TV screens again.

There been too much rain, they cried.

They tear flowed, we prayed,

We hoped and pray some more,

Until the river broke its banks again,

There been too much rain, they cried.

We stand and watch in disbelief,

As watch our river rise,

Now nervously we wait for it to peak,

There been too much rain, they cried.

We close our eyes and pray again,

Our city’s heart again in flood,

Two years, two years too soon,

There been too much rain, they cried.

Debbie Chilton (c) Copright 2013

Need for Balance

A room of balance

Centred

The room is centred,

Oh, ok for me then,

The room is centred,

Yes! The table is centred,

Round table in corner,

No! Room is off centred,

Please return table to centre.

Collections

Items form collections,

Like goes with like,

Items form collections,

Candles are grouped,

My candle collections,

Plants are group in size,

Like goes with like,

Items form collection,

Balance,

Placement of items creates balance,

Placement of colours important,

Placement of items creates balance,

Paintings hanging level,

Placement of items creates balance,

Items must be centred in position,

Placement of items creates balance,

Disturbance,

Movement of my things creates disturbance,

Tables in corners create disturbances,

Movement of my things creates disturbance,

Stacking chairs creates barriers,

Movement of my things creates disturbance,

Hiding paints creates temptation to danger,

Movement of my things creates disturbance,

My message is simple unless asked don’t move my things!

Debbie Chilton © Copyright 2013

Be Still

Evolving Room

The room is still.

Planted on firm foundation,

Centred!

Creating balance and space,

The room is still,

Its walls do not move,

But the flooring does,

In case the paint goes splat.

The room is still,

As is the door frame,

But the furniture evolves,

From coach to day bed and back,

The room is still,

Its walls don’t move,

But the art that hangs on it does,

The wind blows them down.

The room is still,

As is the door frame,

But items go in an out

Changing the room to suit my mood,

The room is still,

Its walls don’t move,

But the plants do,

So they can chase the rain to grow,

The room is still,

As is the door frame,

The nick-nacks come and go,

As the room evolves,

The room is still,

Its walls don’t move,

But the cushions fly,

As I work out how to sit,

The room is still,

As is the door frame,

But the table moves

Just in case I have company.

The room is still,

Its walls don’t move,

But just everything else does,

To evolve to suit daily my needs,

The room is still,

As is the door frame,

The candles, the tea pot, the mat, the paints and brushes,

They all move as the way the room was designed.

The room is still,

Its walls don’t move,

Things do,

Creating balance and space,

The room is still,

As is the door frame,

Enter, look and enjoy,

But leave things centred,

The room is still,

As is the door frame,

Its walls don’t move,

So contented I smile.

Debbie Chilton © Copyright 2013