Tag Archives: Sonja Benskin Mesher
.air. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
layered in air
we dance with glass
small souls with small lives
rise
to the challenges
she says you know we do not gets what we want
we gets what we get
really
ours has been much easier than so many others
*listen to the radio
they threw them all on the fire
there
.bom.2. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
bombs/
sounds rather current
except this guy got caught
before the damage
i have just been advised/
he had hoped to be interred at
coventry cathedral
except
he was not sure if it existed yet
then
it was decided to cut him up to kill him
put his head on a spike
up his neck/
that was bombed too
coventry cathedral/
bombs are nasty things/
seriously
.dead soldjer 4 – fusilier. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
.dead soldjer 3. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
.dead soldjer 2. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
.dead soldjer. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
.robinson crusoe. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
crescendo.
#robinsoncrusoe.
those books, that music.
rises. zadok was a priest.
#legend.
here again we have
absolom. aided.
#hebron
your brother killed him.
#crescendo.
some of us know why.
.stop sign. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
the lady with the blue umbrella
is merely a road sign, remember.
until we walk over and find there
is not one.
had difficulty sleeping, thinking.
of you all.
the hurricanes.
thinking of you all.
the genocide.
spelled carefully
you all
at war.
all who are ill,
unease.
i went on the bus, saw the mud
from the festival. talked to you
who got lost and fed the homeless.
read some road signs elsewhere.
.not for sale. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
critical. some things are not for sale.
you see.
it is
not about money
nor gain.
critical. heard things
you disliked. they
saved your life
didn’t they?
critical and difficult
on all sides. it is not
a competition, we shall
not paint it white. the
upper rooms.
.security. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
bless thee and paste the words.
literally.
oxblood does not offend me, unlike
your rantings, protestations.; words continue.
sweat
beads.
bless thee, pray your maggots
leave.
while we pick out the remains.
days continue with blessings
while the thoughts that this is not personal
are failing.
so i will continue to raise tickets on your befalf
&
bless thee.
.the visit. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
blessings on your house,
those who kill your sisters.
result. cathedral.
broken.
repaired.
it is not as you would think, sir. it is
factual.
blessings on your house, those that
reside there.
ignore reality.
ignore the fact.
#shelteredlives
.tidy. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
i use you.
blind you, hash tag
nagasaki.
you had a clean shirt
ready for after the bomb fell.
was pushed.
sbm.
.the war house. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
dug within for strength, without for vegetables.
tidy allotments for food. primroses came by post; my father.
war was declared before me.
they said that some hid in outside toilets to avoid the bombs. there were hits in bournemouth.
some dads dug deep for shelter in the garden. anderson, half buried. flower beds planted with veg.
peace times, families stored their potatoes , rather than waste. rationing continued.
i remember the implications, was told the facts later.
much later.
the war house & after.
now
we dig within for solidity, solidarity, power to continue. food is plenty.
in wales find they grew potatoes here. i have a photograph.
I still hide under tables.
.white feathers. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
i dream i dream of porcupines.
white feathers dipped in blood.
bloody mess wars,
bodies rotting there. there
are thoughts while stitching that
this could save the world.
a quiet thing. no injuries, the blood
comes small in useful drops.
drops down, meditative sound.
white feathers fall.
porcupines.
.grubby cars. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
i did not know when you started.
talking.
about the socks, how
they are not made to last.
about those you were wearing
for five years. i did not wish
to see your leg sir.
about the chamois leathers, how
we used to have more variety.
which brought him to talk
about hand car wash. by
foreigners. his words not
mine.
insisted that they deliberately
scratch the cars, then turn their guns,
these foreigners. his words not mine.
i left, i am not paid to listen to your racist
remarks sir.
i am paid to weave and serve another day.
he left without buying.
.diagnosis. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
look at the actor,acting that the arms hurts
to help with self diagnosis.
it will be ok if we have paper to write
on.
wait for news of those that are dying, have died
of fire.
we may still have paper.
to draw on.
read the news and watch the radio, we can keep
up to date through the publications
if they have paper to print on.
numbers rise,
high rise.
.pm. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
she said she has heard #stories. thrice.
i think you find, madam, it is #reality.
report that they shouted coward.
do not mention the word
murderer .
yet.
we heard it. all of us.
. turk’s head lilies . by Sonja Benskin Mesher
grow naturally here. it is a wild garden
not as big as yours. surrounds me.
i like the colour amongst the green, while
having no photo again.i say cut me quick
stab me clean.
there are no razors , only scissors.
here. -}
.bom. by Sonja Benskin Mesher
i cannot spell. i can think.
i can imagine a nuclear
bom.
going off.
read the books, seen the footage.
think.
people.
think
of it.
before you speak.
I am not a silent poet 