The Poet

The Poet

Thursday, June 8, 2017

We hanged Our Harps On The Willows by Ronald S Porter ©2017

Broken hearts; broken windows;
Broken promises and broken dreams.
All together conspire, to inspire
The voices of the silent screams.

Empty stomachs; empty hallways;
Empty eyes cry in bitter streams.
They packed the jail, as families fail.
Our voices rise in silent screams.

Abandoned now, are hopes and houses
Poverty and ignorance, my ears assail.
Starving babies and, bereaved mothers
Fill the night with plaintive wails

Our captors bid us sing
Songs of our ravished homeland
On the shores of Babylon's streams.
In a strange land, all we can voice
Are the sounds of silent streams

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