Super Sonnets | Catastrophe Poems | The Sonnet Man Edition 5 | Short Sonnet Poems by the Sonnet Man | Poems and Sonnets on Catastrophe Sonnets
Edition 5 – Super Sonnets | Over 100+ Sonnet Poems Written by The Todmorden Sonnet Man. Short Sonnet Poems Featuring Themes From The Surrounding Area To Love, Nature, Death, Politics and much more. The Sonnet Man Todmorden, Edition 5.
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A vicious western-backed conspiracy,
led by Saudi Arabian tyrants,
killing people indiscriminately.
The suffering of the children immense.


For the UK it is savagery
it is sponsoring with its armaments
used mercilessly, …used murderously,
killing many thousands of innocents.


A proxy war against Shia Moslems
by Saudi Sunnis. The ‘target’ Iran.
A disaster already, and more looms.
Devastation upon neighbouring land.


Crimes which should be punished here, not heaven,
the Saudi Royals war on the Yemen.


Buildings as if whole chunks eaten, missing.
Meal-times of bricks and concrete, bombardments.
Cries of those who were within, dismissing.
As if the city itself caused offence.


Welcome to the shell that’s now Aleppo.
Bound to be something similar, Mosul.
End use, after brought from the arms depot.
Others’ fault, if hit hospital or school.


I suppose relief if it’s been ended;
if shelling, at last, has culminated.
But will not be so easily mended,
or the traumas caused soon dissipated.


The World must cry out “what is there to show
from those hungry for war in Aleppo?”


The sweeper. So much to be swept away.
Works his broom in the middle of the street.
Glass and stone. Debris not allowed to stay.
With his broom he will not admit defeat.


He is seen, as part of the aftermath.
Probably the start of recovery.
For human use again, clearing the path.
His sweep makes it as safe as it can be.


It follows the explosion at the site;
The bomb blast causing carnage and rubble.
After the horror; the initial fright;
His, the calm in the face of the trouble.


Easily buildings splinter and shatter.
His clear-up re-starts. Really does matter.


In a dark recess, cowering afraid
in a bombed-out building, family gone,
a child, in state of shock, deeply dismayed;
fearful of what’s coming before too long.


What a truly terrible childhood scene.
A direct education in horror.
Sudden explosion, from which much hurting.
Blown-down ceiling and walls; blown-off, the door.


The warmongers largely anonymous.
Politicians praise for military.
And their support, secure in others’ loss.
Say, enemy’s defeat necessary.


Response of these politicians. Agree
‘we can’t help this child, as a refugee’.


What if after death you’re a refugee?
And as try for home get told “go to hell”.
Not allowed to be where you want to be.
If left forgotten, it thought ‘just as well’.


If you are put into some prison camp,
resembling, I suppose, Purgatory.
Herded animal, awaiting a stamp.
But no one to answer an inquiry.


Not getting on with life. Wasting away.
The message that fear, ‘allowed here? No way!’
Your right as a human being, you say.
‘Not anymore. Sod off. You, go away.’


Could be like that, uncaring estrangement.
But what if we were to feel the extent?