On the Homefront

When we think about poetry sometimes it really relates to our lives. Some poetry is made to imapct us on a personal level or give us a sense of understanding of the feelings of others. We never really think about how another person is feeling until we can see them in a different mood or if we genuinely care about them. But sometimes we dare to wonder, "What would it be like if that happened to me?"

Eve Condolences



At the darkest hour
When the craven moon
Gazes upon the
Tortured Earth.


Unsettled and
Apocalyptic
We have made
These fields.


Blade scratching
Against the dusty floor
As I pray to the stars
For my brothers.


Lantern in hand,
Rain splashing
Beneath my feet,
And I take this mockery.


The shadows give
Pessimistic grins
That diverts me
From my course.
And I cry.


Not for the sake
Of myself,
Not for the void
I can feel around me.
They are tears for her.


That I may destroy
Her world,
Sap her happiness
And leave her dry.
Nothing but longing and despair.


For none of us men,
And wives,
And parents,
And children,
Long to hear
The fated news.


That your loved one
Won’t be home for supper,
Or the Christmas of yet,
And the happiness of that morn’.


For the black cloud
Desolating the air
Speaks its words
Of sorrow.


And you will not see
Your husband,
Your father,
Your son,
On these nights.


The bedtime darkness
Played and meddled
Whilst they slept,
And the morning fire
Was nothing but ash.

-By Justin Beebe

He lives the poetry that he cannot write. The others write the poetry that they dare not realise. ~Oscar Wilde