Under the greenwood tree,
There is nobody,
Except a pair of birds,
In P.B Shelley’s words,
“HAIL to thee, blithe Spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from Heaven, or near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.”
Ah who will sing? in spring,
All those merry notes,
When heart is filled with grief,
The world is full of smoke,
Of bombs and of grenades,
People dying all around,
Helpless innocent folk,
I am all alone,
Under the greenwood tree,
Is there nobody?
Help me!
Please help me!!
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Interesting. I loved the Archaic English that you fused into this work, along with your already very well articulated vocabulary, symbolism, and imagery, all coming together to form a beautifully written piece of literature.
ASM
AKA Raymond
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I am here Ahkam...i never left you. Thank you so much for the package. and this is an awesome write...i too sad with this smoke filled world....famine and disasters...i am lost Ahkam....i dunno if this what life supposed to mean. miss you.
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I am sorry for the happy little applauding faces...they do not reflect my heart from this...
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My God! Ahkam....you speak through your own blood here...I do not comment here today as one observing a poet merely writing...but as your friend...tell me how to help?...
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